Duke. [Comes forward.] Ha! did you? Fern. Yes; thou art Pavy's duke, Yet do not fear thee; though the coward doubt Duke. I am too angry in my rage, To scourge thee unprovided; [Enter PETRUCHIO and NIBRASSA with a guard] take him hence: Away with him. Fern. Unhand me! D'Av. You must go, sir. [They seize FERN. Fern. Duke, do not shame thy manhood to lay On that most innocent lady. Duke. Yet again! Confine him to his chamber. [hands [Exeunt D'Av. and the guard with FERN. Leave us all; Duke. Woman, stand forth before me ;-wretchWhat canst thou hope for? [ed whore, Bian. Death; I wish no less. You told me you had dreamt; and, gentle duke, Unless you be mistook, you are now awaked. Duke. Strumpet, I am; and in my hand hold up The edge that must uncut thy twist of life: Dost thou not shake? Bian. For what? to see a weak, Duke. What? shameless harlot ! Yet come, and if thou think'st thou canst deserve Bian. I'll tell you, if you needs would be reI held Fernando much the properer man. [solv'd; Duke. Shameless, intolerable whore ! Bian. What ails you? Can you imagine, sir, the name of duke A bloodless lip, or such an untrimm'd beard Duke. O my stars! You would fain tell me how exceeding much Fior. Take this, take all. Duke. Excellent, excellent! the pangs of death Are music to this. Forgive me, my good Genius, I had thought A devil, worser than the worst in hell. The fault was his, not your's; why, virtuous mis- Bian. Look, what I said, 'tis true; for, know it now: I must confess I miss'd no means, no time, He kept the laws of friendship, that my suit Of my affection, but as oft he urged The sacred vows of faith 'twixt friend and friend: Of cunning servile flatteries, entreaties, Duke. Such another As thou art, miserable creature, would Of the once spotless temple of thy mind? You know the best, and worst, and all. Thou tempt'st me to thy ruin. Come, black angel, As, were the sluices of thine eyes let up, sleep'st, His, that did prize thee more than all the trash Which hoarding worldlings make an idol of. When thou shalt find the catalogue enroll'd Bian. (opens her bosom.) I do and to the point Of thy sharp sword, with open breast, I'll run This daunts not me: but in the latter act Duke. Not this, I'll none of this; 'tis not so Why should I kill her? she may live and change, Or[Throws down his sword. Fior. (above.) Dost thou halt? faint coward, dost thou wish To blemish all thy glorious ancestors? Is this thy courage? Duke. Ha! say you so too? Give me thy hand, Bianca. SCENE II.-An Apartment in the Palace. Enter FERNANDO, NIBRASSA, and PETRUCHIO. Pet. May we give credit to your words, my lord? Speak, on your honour. Fern. Let me die accurst, If ever, through the progress of my life, I did as much as reap the benefit Of any favour from her save a kiss : A better woman never blest the earth. Nib. Beshrew my heart, young lord, but I believe thee alas, kind lady, 'tis a lordship to a dozen of points, but the jealous madman will in his fury offer her some violence. Pet. If it be thus, 'twere fit you rather kept Of his revenge; he is extremely moved. Nib. Passion of my body, my lord, if he come in his odd fits to you, in the case you are, he might cut your throat ere you could provide a weapon of defence: nay, rather than it shall be so, hold, take my sword in your hand; 'tis none of the sprucest, but 'tis a tough fox will not fail his master, come what will come. Take it; I'll answer't, I in the mean time, Petruchio and I will back to the duchess' lodging. [Gives FERN. his sword. Pet. Well thought on;-and in despite of all Rescue the virtuous lady. [his rage, Nib. Look to yourself, my lord! the duke comes. Enter the DUKE, a sword in one hand, and a bloody dagger in the other. Duke. Stand, and behold thy executioner, I see thou art arm'd; prepare, I crave no odds, Fern. Duke, I fear thee not: But first I charge thee, as thou art a prince, Dost think I'll hug my injuries? no, traitor! Fern. Stay; I yield my weapon up. Duke. Faint-hearted coward, Fern. Do but hear me first: Unfortunate Caraffa, thou hast butcher'd Duke. Pish, this is stale dissimulation; Fern. If ever I unshrined The altar of her purity, or tasted More of her love, than what, without controul I have too much abused thee; did exceed Duke. 'Tis false: as much, in death, for thee Fern. By yonder starry roof, 'tis true. O duke! Couldst thou rear up another world like this, Another like to that, and more, or more, Herein thou art most wretched; all the wealth Of all those worlds could not redeem the loss Of such a spotless wife. Glorious Bianca, Reign in the triumph of thy martyrdom, Earth was unworthy of thee! Nib. Pet. Now, on our lives, we both believe Thus long have I been clouded in this shape, Led on by love; and in that love, despair: Fior. Strange miracle! Roseilli, I must honour thee; thy truth, Duke. Chaste, chaste, and kill'd by me! to her Forgive me; if my heart can entertain I offer up this remnant of my-— [Offers to stab himself, and is stayed by FERN. Fern. Hold! Be gentler to thyself. Pet. Alas, my lord, Is this a wise man's carriage? Duke. Whither now Shall I run from the day, where never man, [Kneels, holds up his hands, and, after speaking to 'Tis done: come, friend, now for her love, Enter D'AVOLOS. D'Av. The lord Abbot of Monaco, sir, is in his return from Rome, lodged last night late in the city very privately; and hearing the report of your journey, only intends to visit your duchess to morrow. Duke. Slave, torture me no more! Note him, my If you would choose a devil in the shape [lords, Of man, an arch-arch-devil, there stands one.We'll meet our uncle.-Order straight, Petruchio, Our duchess may be coffin'd; 'tis our will She forthwith be interr'd with all the speed And privacy you may, i' th' college church, Amongst Caraffa's ancient monuments. Some three days hence we'll keep her funeral.— Damn'd villain! bloody villain!-Oh, Bianca ! No counsel from our cruel wills can win us, But ills once done, we bear our guilt within us. [Exeunt all but D'AVOLOS. D'Av. Good b'ye! Arch-arch-devil! why, I am paid. Here's bounty for good service! beshrew my heart, it is a right princely reward. Now must I say my prayers, that I have lived to so ripe an age to have my head stricken off. I cannot tell; it may be my lady Fiormonda will stand on my behalf to the duke: that's but a single hope; a disgraced courtier oftener finds enemies to sink him when he's falling, than friends to relieve him. I must resolve to stand to the bazard of all brunts now. Come what may, I will not die like a cow, and the world shall know it. [Exit. SCENE III.-Another Apartment in the same. Enter FIORMONDA, and ROSEILLI discovering himself. Ros. Wonder not, madam; here behold the man Whom your disdain hath metamorphosed. Another thought of love, it shall be thine. Enter D'AVOLOS. D'Av. Whom have we here? Roseilli, the supposed fool? 'tis he; nay, then help me a brazen face-My honourable lord. Ros. Bear off, blood-thirsty man! come not near me. D'Av. Madam, I trust the serviceFior. Fellow, learn to new live: the way to thrift, For thee, in grace, is a repentant shrift. Ros. Ill has thy life been, worse will be thy end: Men flesh'd in blood know seldom to amend. Enter Servant. Ser. His highness commends his love to you, and expects your presence; he is ready to pass to the church, only staying for my lord abbot to associate him. Withal, his pleasure is, that you, D'Avolos, forbear to rank in this solemnity in the place of secretary; else to be there as a private man. Pleaseth you to go? [Exeunt all but D'Av. D'Av. As a private man! what remedy? This way they must come, and here I will stand to fall amongst 'em in the rear. A solemn strain of soft Music. The Scene opens, and discovers the Church, with a Tomb in the back ground. Enter Attendants with Torches, after them Two Friars; then the DUKE in mourning manner; after him the Abbot, FIORMONDA, COLONA, JULIA, ROSEILLI, PETRU CHIO, NIBHASSA, and a Guard.-D'AVOLOS following. When the Procession approaches the Tomb they all kneel, The DIKE goes to the Tomb, and lays his hand on it. The Music ceases. Duke. Peace and sweet rest sleep here! Let not the touch Of this my impious hand profane the shrine Of bleeding tears, shed from a faithful spring; Enough: set ope the tomb, that I may take [The Tomb is opened, out of which rises FERNANDO in Fern. Forbear! what art thou that dost rudely Whats'ever thou intendest, know this place To boast thy famous murthers; let thy smooth, Duke. Fernando, man of darkness, Come out, or by the thunder of my rage, Fern. Of death? poor duke! Why that's the aim I shoot at; 'tis not threats (Maugre thy power, or the spight of hell) Shall rend that honour: let life-hugging slaves, Duke. Guard-lay hands, And drag him out. Fern. Yes, let 'em, here's my shield; Here's health to victory! Now do thy worst. [He drinks off a phial of poison. Whilst in the period, closing up their tale, They must conclude, how for Bianca's love, Caraffa, in revenge of wrongs to her, Thus on her altar sacrificed his life. [Stabs himself. Duke. Do, do; I was too willing to strike home Lastly, my lords, to all: and that the entrance Fair hopes of being worthy of our place, D'Av. My gracious lord. Ros. No, graceless villain! Farewell, duke, once I have outstripp'd thy plots; I am no lord of thine. Guard, take him hence, Not all the cunning antidotes of art Can warrant me twelve minutes of my life: Conclude my love,-and seal it in my bosom !— oh ! Abbot. Most desperate end! Duke. None stir; [Dies. Who steps a foot, steps to his utter ruin. Convey him to the prison's top; in chains Of bread to feed him, dies: speak not against it, I will be deaf to mercy.-Bear him hence! D'Av. Mercy, new duke! here's my comfort, I make but one in the number of the tragedy of princes. [He is led off.. Ros. Madam, a second charge is to perform Which no persuasion shall remove. Purge frailty with repentance. Fior. I embrace it. Happy too late, since lust hath made me foul, No age hath heard, no chronicle can say, [Exeunt. H PERKIN WARBECK. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE WILLIAM CAVENDISH, EARL OF NEWCASTLE, VISCOUNT MANSFIELD, LORD BOLSOVER AND OGLE. I MY LORD, Out of the darkness of a former age, (enlightened by a late both learned and an honourable pen, have endeavoured to personate a great attempt, and in it, a greater danger. In other labours you may read actions of antiquity discoursed; in this abridgment, find the actors themselves discoursing; in some kind practised as well what to speak, as speaking why to do. Your lordship is a most competent judge, in expressions of such credit; commissioned by your known ability in examining, and enabled by your knowledge in determining, the monuments of Time, Eminent titles may, indeed, inform who their owners are, not often what. To your's the addition of that information in both, cannot in any application be observed flattery; the authority being established by truth. I can only acknowledge the errors in writing, mine own; the worthiness of the subject written being a perfection in the story, and of it. The custom of your lordship's entertainments (even to strangers) is rather an example than a fashion: in which consideration I dare not profess a curiosity; but am only studious that your lordship will please, amongst such as best honour your goodness, to admit into your noble construction, JOHN FORD. STUDIES have, of this nature, been of late, A history of noble mention, known, Famous, and true; most noble, 'cause our own: |