[Exit Antonio.

Pier. Alberto, I am kind; Alberto, kind.    230
I 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 sticks
Unto 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 scourging Nemesis.[304]

[Exit Alberto.

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;    260
Florence, 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;    271
Lap him in rags, and let him feed on slime
That 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!    280
Let poets roar,
And all deplore;
For now I bid you good-night.

Exit Balurdo with Castilio.

Re-enter Maria.

Mar. O piteous end of love! O too, too rude hand
Of 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’d
With guiltless blots? O world, thou art too subtle
For honest natures to converse withal,    300
Therefore 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 sweet
I 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 invention
Unto 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,    320
Let’s all turn sighers. Come, despite of fate,
Sound loudest music, let’s pace out in state!

[The cornets sound.—Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter Antonio solus, in fool’s habit.

Ant. Ay, heaven, thou may’st, thou may’st, omnipotence.
What vermin bred of putrefacted slime
Shall dare to expostulate with thy decrees!
O heaven, thou may’st indeed: she was all thine,
All heavenly: I did but humbly beg
To borrow her of thee a little time.
Thou gavest her me, as some weak-breasted dame
Giveth 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,    10
I’ll not blaspheme. Look here! behold!

[Antonio puts 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 blood
With the dead palsy of like misery.    20
Then, 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.

Enter Pandulpho, Alberto, and a Page, carrying Feliche’s trunk in a winding sheet, and lay it thwart Antonio’s breast.

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;    30
He 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 her
Livest 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.    40
I 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 which may be stood,
Stands now without all may. 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 pay    50
Set 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 difficult
To find true friend in this apostate age
(That balks all right affiance ’twixt two hearts)
As ’tis to find a fixèd modest heart
Under a painted breast. Lost a true friend!    60
O 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,    70
Like 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.

[Antonio starts 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.    80
Who dare assume that but Antonio?

Death, exile, plaints, and woe,
Are but man’s lackeys, not his foe.
No mortal ’scapes from fortune’s war
Without a wound, at least a scar.    100
Many 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 stretch
His 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.

ACT V.

SCENE I.

The cornets sound for the Act.

The dumb show.

Enter at one door Castilio and Forobosco, with halberts; four Pages with torches; Lucio, bare; Piero, Maria, and Alberto, talking; Alberto draws out his dagger, Maria her knife, aiming to menace the Duke. Then Galeatzo, betwixt two Senators, reading a paper to them, at which they all make semblance of loathing Piero, and knit their fists at him; two Ladies and Nutriche. All these go softly over the stage, whilst at the other door enters the ghost of Andrugio, who passeth by them, tossing his torch about his head in triumph. All forsake the stage, saving Andrugio, who, speaking, begins the Act.

Ghost of And. Venit dies, tempusque, quo reddat suis
Animam 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 sins
Wheel to a head; now is his fate grown mellow,
Instant to fall into the rotten jaws
Of chap-fall’n death. Now down looks Providence,    10
T’attend the last act of my son’s revenge.
Be gracious, observation, to our scene,
For now the plot unites his scatter’d limbs
Close 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 hate
Against the Duke for his accursèd deeds
(Of which they are confirm’d by some odd letters
Found in dead Strotzo’s study, which had past    20
Betwixt Piero and the murd’ring slave)
That they can scarce retain from bursting forth
In plain revolt. O, now triumphs my ghost,
Exclaiming, Heaven’s just, for I shall see
The scourge of murder and impiety!

[Exit.

SCENE I.

Balurdo from 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.

Enter Antonio and Alberto at 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 strains
To feign a jocund eye. The Florentine——

Ant. Young Galeatzo!

Alb. Even he is mighty on our part. The states of Venice,—

Enter Pandulpho, running, in masking attire.

Pan. Like high-swoll’n floods drive down the muddy dams
Of pent allegiance. O, my lusty bloods,
Heaven sits clapping of our enterprise.    30
I have been labouring general favour firm,
And I do find the citizens grown sick
With swallowing the bloody crudities
Of black Piero’s acts; they fain would cast
And 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 strong
By suiting circumstance, that, as I walk’d,
Muffled, to eavesdrop speech, I might observe    40
The 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 brows    50
Appears 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.

SCENE II.

A Banqueting-hall.

Enter Castilio and Forobosco; two Pages, with torches; Lucio, bare; Piero and Maria, Galeatzo, two Senators, and Nutriche.

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 bed
With an unpleasing weight, being lifted hence,
Even I, Piero, live to warm his place.
I tell you, lady, had you view’d us both
With an unpartial eye, when first we wooed
Your 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 float    20
In 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 wine
Unto 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.—    30
Boy, sing aloud; make heaven’s vault to ring
With thy breath’s strength. I drink. Now loudly sing.

[A song. The song ended the cornets sound a senet.

Enter Antonio, Pandulpho, and Alberto, in maskery; Balurdo, and a Torchbearer.

Pier. Call Julio hither. Where’s the little soul?
I saw him not to-day. Here’s sport alone
For 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.

[To Antonio.

I have a troop to second your attempt.

[To Pandulpho.

The Venice states join hearts unto your hands.

[To Alberto.

Pier. By the delights in contemplation    40
Of coming joys, ’tis magnificent.
You grace my marriage eve with sumptuous pomp.
Sound still, loud music! O, your breath gives grace
To curious feet, that in proud measure pace.

Ant. [Aside to Maria.] Mother, is Julio’s body——

Mar. [Aside to Antonio.] 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’s ghost is placed betwixt the music-houses.[319]

Pier. Bring hither suckets, candied delicates.    50
We’ll taste some sweetmeats, gallants, ere we sleep.

Ant.—We’ll cook your sweetmeats, gallants, with tart sour sauce.

Ghost of And. Here will I sit, spectator of revenge,
And glad my ghost in anguish of my foe.

[The maskers whisper with Piero.

Pier. Marry and shall; i’faith I were too rude,
If I gainsaid so civil fashion.—
The maskers pray you to forbear the room
Till 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 but Piero and the maskers.

I’ll fill your consort. Here Piero sits;
Come on, unmask, let’s fall to.

[The conspirators bind Piero, 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 of And. 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 see
A 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 contains Lucio’s limbs.

Here’s flesh and blood, which I am sure thou lov’st.

[Piero seems 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.

Enter Maria.

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,    90
Be aliens to our thoughts; grim fire-ey’d rage
Possess us wholly.

Pan. Thy son? true; and which is my most joy,
I hope no bastard, but thy very blood,
Thy true-begotten, most legitimate
And 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,    101
The horrid torments of the damnèd ghosts,
Affright thy soul as it descendeth down
Into the entrails of the ugly deep.

Pan. Sa, sa; no, let him die, and die, and still be dying.

[They offer to run all at Piero, and on a sudden stop.

And yet not die till he hath died and died
Ten thousand deaths in agony of heart.

Ant. Now pellmell: thus the hand of Heaven chokes
The throat of murder. This for my father’s blood!

[He stabs Piero.

Pan. This for my son!    110

Alb. This for them all!
And this, and this, sink to the heart of hell!

[They run all at Piero with 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, exit Andrugio.

Enter Galeatzo, two Senators, Lucio, Forobosco, Castilio, and Ladies.

1st Sen. Whose hand presents this gory spectacle?

Ant. Mine.

Pan. No, mine.

Alb. No, mine.

Ant. I will not lose the glory of the deed,    120
Were all the tortures of the deepest hell
Fix’d to my limbs. I pierced the monster’s heart
With 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 live
Religiously held sacred, even for ever and ever.

Gal. (to Antonio). Thou art another Hercules to us,
In ridding huge pollution from our state.    130

1st Sen. Antonio, belief is fortified
With most invincible approvements[322] of much wrong
By this Piero to thee. We have found
Beadrolls of mischief, plots of villainy,
Laid ’twixt the Duke and Strotzo, which we found
Too firmly acted.

2d Sen. Alas, poor orphant!

Ant. Poor!
Standing triumphant over Belzebub!
Having large interest for blood, and yet deem’d poor?

1st Sen. What satisfaction outward pomp can yield,
Or chiefest fortunes of the Venice state,    140
Claim 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 constraint
Of holy bands forceth us keep this lodge
Of dirt’s corruption, till dread power calls
Our soul’s appearance, we will live enclosed    150
In holy verge of some religious order,
Most constant votaries.

[The curtains are drawn, Piero departeth.

Ant. First let’s cleanse our hands,
Purge hearts of hatred, and entomb my love,
Over whose hearse I’ll weep away my brain
In 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 contemplation
Of past calamities. If any ask
Where 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;    170
And when the subject of your passion’s spent,
Sing Mellida 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 faith
Dares once engage his pen to write her death,
Presenting it in some black tragedy,
May it prove gracious; may his style be deck’d
With freshest blooms of purest elegance;
May it have gentle presence, and the scenes suck’d up
By calm attention of choice audience;    181
And when the closing Epilogue appears,
Instead of claps, may it obtain but tears.

[A song.—Exeunt omnes.

Antonii vindictæ [sic].