I conquer thee and shew thee mercy Never love more nor after I am marri'd Dare for thy Soul to speak of Bellamira Gand. I thank thee and accept the terms with Joy Which blood must ratifieâ— And here I swear If vanquish'd by thy Arm though Death I hope Will more than Oath confirm the fatal bargain For evâ—r to renounce all Claim and yield By my Eâ—ernal absence Bellamira Borg. Come on then And let Love and Glory steell Thy unflesh'd arm think on this moment hangs Thy whole life's Joy or worse than Death Despair I would noâ— win such Beauty without Blood But as the brave Gonsalvo being shot Mov'd not at all nor chang'd his mighty Look As if the Gallantry of such demeanour Could charm coy Victory to raise the Seige So would I with my blood distilling down Answering her tears lead Bellamira on And woo her at the Altar with my wounds Gand. No more Borg. Agreed The word is Bellamira Fight Gandia is wounded Hold hold Palante for thou bleedst Gand. A scratch Borg. My Father crys out save him on thy life Fight again Gand. Guard well thy life Borgia is wounded on the Arm but disarms Gandia Enter Machiavel Mach. What means this noise of Arms Why these Swords drawn what now my Lords Both wounded Borgia throws Gandia his Sword By Heav'n I swear you shall proceed no further Borg. 'T is now too late to tell thee how we quarrell'd Look to his wound soon as the Cure's perform'd I 'll serve the Duke of Gandia with my Fortune But far from Rome for he has agreed Never to see my Bellamira more For me I 'll to the Temple Mach. My Lord you bleed Borg. The Skin 's but rac'd Would it were deep in the most mortal part So Bellamira when the blood gush'd forth Would sink upon my breast and swear she lov'd me But that 's too much to hope what e're is doom'd I swear this night to grasp the conquer'd Prize Yes yes Palante hear and fly for ever All the white World of Bellamira's Beauty This Night I 'll travel o're to feast my Love The Little Glutton shall be gorg'd with Revels He shall be drunk with spirits of delight With all that amorous wishes can inspire And all the Liberties of loose desire Exit Gand. I 'll after him and at the Altar end him Waâ—'t not enough to wound and vanquish me But he must triumph too I rave and talk I know not what for he is generous And nobly merits what his valour won Yes happy Borgia I will keep my word And since thus lost to all that I held dear Abandon this loath'd World Mach. You must retire Gand. I will devote the sad remains of life To the blest Company of holy men Learn Contemplation and the dregs of life Purg'd off taste clearer and more sprightly joys Partake their transports in the brightest Visions See opening Heav'ns and the descending Gods Then as I view the dazling tracks of Angels Sigh to my heart and cry see there and there In full perfection thousand Bellamira's Mach. My Lord your wound bleeds fast Gand. O Machiavel When I am shut for ever from the World Thou tenderst hearted gentlest best of Friends Wilt visit me sometimes I know thou wilt Mach. Why do you droop thus lean upon my Arm All shall be well Yes I will find a way In spite of Fortune yet to heal your sorrows And pour the Balm of Bellamira's tears Upon your wound Gand. Could I but see her once Beâ—ore I die Mach. Once Twice a Hundred times Doubt not you shall but haste to your Apartment Ex. Gandia Methinks if mischief had but this to vaunt That like a God none knows her but her self It were enough to mount her o're the World I love my self and for my self I love Borgia my Prince Who does not love himself Self-love's the Universal Beam of Nature The Axle-tree that darts through all its Frame And he 's a Child in thought who fears the sting Of Conscience and will rather lose himself Than make his Fortune by another's ruine Conscience the Bug-bears roar the Nurses howl Our Infant lash and whip of Education Enter Adornaâ— My Genius my Love my little Angel Hast thou the Letters Adorn First my Lord If I have breath to utter let me tell you Never was Marriage solemniz'd like this Mach. Go on Adorn The Bride in Mourning Robes was led Or rather born like a pale Course along I saw her when she first approach'd the Temple How rushing from the arms of those that held her She threw her Body on the Marble steps When straâ—t the Bridegroom with a kindled Face Draw near and blushing stretcht his bloody Aâ—m Wrapt in a Scarf and gave it to the Bride Then bowing wish'd the Priest perform his Duty Mach. What follow'd Adorn Urg'd or rather brib'd before The Priest at Old Orsino's Intercession Soon joyn'd their Hands all from the Temple haste Oâ—sino and his Son in deep Discourse And Bellamira blind with weeping led This way Mach. I am glad on 't for I wait to speak with her Prithee produce the Letâ—ers Come I know Thou hast 'em nay 't is thy own interest Adorn See Bellamira enters stay some time And I 'll discover to your own desire Enter Bellamira Mach. Madam I would entreat a word in private Bell. Can misery like mine be worth discourse Mach. The dead are only happy and the dying The dead are still and lasting slumbers hold 'em He who is near his Death but turns about Shuffles a while to make his Pillow easie Then slips into his Shroud and rests for ever Bella. My Mind presages by the bloody hand That seiz'd me at the Altar Mach. In their Nonage A Sympathy unusual joyn'd their loves They pair'd like Turtles still together drank Together eat nor quarrell'd for the choice Like Twining-streams both from one Fountain fell And as they ran still mingled smiles and tears But oh when Time had swell'd their Currents high This boundless World this Ocean did divide 'em And now for ever they have lost each other Bella. For ever Oh the horrour that invades me Thou seem'st to imitate some horrid act I charge thee speak how fares the Duke of Gandia Not answer me why dost thou shake â—hy Head And cross thy arms and turn thy eyes away Has there been ought betwixt my Lord and him Mach. There has they fought Bella. The Cause the Cursed Cause Stands here before thy eyes she stands to blast thee I know 't is thus Borgia for me was wounded And oh my fears by his relentless handâ— Perhaps that poor despairing lost Palante Is miserably slain If it be so Spite of my Father I 'll renounce my Vows Forgo forswear all comforts in this life And fly the World Mach. Would I were out on 't Nothing but fraud and cruelties reign here He is not slain but as his Surgeons bode I fear him much Oh would you be so kind To see the Wounds he suffers
I owe the best of Fathers best of Friends This day this glorious day for ever blest And never to be lost in Times dark Legend Crowns me your Son Thus then I bend my kneesâ— Which are not us'd to kneel but at the Altar And O! permit me thus to kiss your Hand And pay the Eternal Vows of my Obedience Orsin O rise my Lord all Duâ—y is out done Wiâ—h but one single bare Acknowledgment Yâ—t for a satisfaction to this Company Say do you love my Daughter Bellamira Bâ—rg Ha! what says my Father do I live O Heaven Why do you wound me with the Question Does the poor suff'ring Fair One Vertue love Who drinks the Brook and eaâ—s what Nature yields Rather than feast in Courts wiâ—h loss of Honour Do those who on the Rack for Heav'n expire Love Angels and Eternal brightness there 'T is sure they do And oh 't is full as sure That Caesar Borgia dies for Bellamira Orsin No more you Honour her and me too muchâ— Therefore this day I give her to your Arms With all the pleasure of a proud old Father O'rejoy'd to see his Daughter match'd above him By Heav'n my eyes grow full here all our Discord For ever end all Jars betwixt the Orsins Vitelli and the Duke of Valentinois Be bury'd ever in this strict Imbrace Borg. Since you will havâ— it so forgive my Dutyâ— Let me grow bold and as a Friâ—nd imbrace you Orsin See here my Lord for scarce can I distinguish Through the bright joy that dazles my weak sight Oliverotto and the Duke Graviana When Vitellozzo come to grace your Nuptials All on their knees acknowledge you their Prince Borg. My Equals all Nor shall this Homage be I swear it shall not Rise my Lords your Arms Let me imbrace you round by all things sacred I swear that none of you have been too blame Were you Confederates against my Arms You were but Borgia'â— infinite Ambition Forc'd you against your wills to let him know His head-strong Youth like a young fiery Horse Unless you kindly stop him in hiâ— speed Would hurl him from some Precipice to ruine Oâ—sin See Vitellozzo how he takes our Crimes Upon himself Borg. Behold this Child my Sonâ— I know not any thing the World callâ— precious Which in the darkness of my heart can match him But Bellamira Take him Vitellozzo Take the dear blood that trickles from my heart The very strings that wind about my life And let him for my part be Surety As beautious Bellamira is for yours Orsin Farewell my Lord with these Attendance here I go to haste the Bride and let my life Be answer for the little Seraphino Ex. Orsin Vitelli. Ascan. He has her now that delicate bit of Beauty Which I reserv'd for my own Letchery He drills her from her old deluded Sire Hell and she melts she melts into hiâ— mouth But by my Holy-Dame I 'll be reveng'd On every part of him His little Bastard Because he doats on him shall streight be mangled I 'll do 't I say Yes by my Holy Dame I will revenge my loss of Letchery Ha! what a jerk was that it grates my bones Pray Heav'n it ben't a Spice a little Tang Of the Neapolitan Itch O my Holy-Dame Ex. with Cardinals Borg. Now Machiavel prepare to hear my Soul Hear to what softness and effeminate mourning All my dear Victories at last are melted For I will tell thee though thou'lt scarce believe Since first I saw the Charming Bâ—llamira The very Image of Charlotta's scorn I have not had one hour of Free repose Ev'n when at last I have resolv'd to joyn Our hands and trust her with my tender glory I 've started from my Bed at midnight rose And wandeâ—'d by the Moon Then laid me down Upon some dewy bank and slept till morn Mach. Therefore there must be some strange Circumstance That first induc'd those fears some dang'rouâ— hint For your suspitions Borg. Yes Machiavâ—l There is there is a cause for my suspitions Mach. Are you sure of it Borg. Most sure I am Sure aâ— reserv'dness does imply aversion Yet I as if my flames were fire in Frost The more she cools scorch rage and burns the more Mach. I guesâ— your meaning like Charlotta she Has pawn'd her heart but 't is confess'd you know him Borg. Ha! did I know the name of him I dread What God in Armâ— should save him from my Sword Here thou hast rouz'd the Lion in my heart Italian spite revenge and blasting fury Devouâ—s my Soul all mildness sleeps like Death I boil like Drunkards Veins Death Hell and Vengeance Mach. Suppress this Fury Câ—me come my Lord I find your are better skill'd In Camps then Courts and know not yet Loves World She is reserv'd you say when you approach her Why let her weep too was it ever known A subtle Pride laugh'd on her Wedding Day Or clasp'd her love in the eye o' th world I find you are unlearn'd Sir 't is their Trade The very Nature Soul and Life-blood of 'em To whineâ— and cry and turn their heads away When their hearts dote on what they seem to scorn Borg. If it were so Mach. Why it was always so Is so and will be so to the worlds end Give me your hand and take her on my word I have been bred in Courts sounded the humours Even of all Women-kind Therefore advise you Repair immediately to old Orsino Who with his Beauteous Daughter waits your Coming Borg. Could she be truly mine the wings of Winds Would be too slow to waft me to her arms Mach. Once more I say she is and shall be yours Truly religiously devoutly yours Why all this thought and groundless Jealousy Let manly Confidence and Roman-Vertue Master this Gothick Fury in your blood Borg. By Arms by all the glories I have won Thou hast awak'd my Love and Charm'd my fears Charlotta O the very figure of her But sure the Beauteous Lines are softer here And now I find 't is ruine to forgo her Mach. No more my Lord. 'T is I that thus embark youâ— And if some startinâ— Plank should flâ—w the Vessel To your destruction I am ruin'd too Since all I have or am or ever would be Is to be yours your sworn unbyass'd friend Borg. Thou best of men Thou art my Oracle my Heaven my Genius And as some God shalt guide me through the World Let 's go to Conquest tho through Death we go Marriage and Death both new Experiments Methinks I see the Taper in the Window The Busie Nurse unveils the weeping Maid And I must naked pass through Seas to reach her O fatal Marriage O thou dismal Gulph Which like the Hellespona do'st rore between Me and my Joys Is there no other way None none the Winds and the dash'd Rocks reply Why let 'm roar and let the Billows swell Till the rack't Orbs be wiâ—h the Deluge drown'd 'T is fixt I 'll plunge or perish or enjoy her Mach. Justly
resolv'd nor let a few false Tears Melt you again to an untimely mildness Charlotta thus deluded you in Franâ—e Which render'd all your Court ridiculous Remember that and lest the like disgrace Should happen now drag her if she refuses Borg. I will my Machiavel O Arms O Glory What an Eternal Rust would smear your Luster Did not this Spirit of Ambition fire me I 'll tell her that the lives of all her race Are now within my power Mach. Nay threaten her Borg. I will do more than threaten Think not the dreadful Caesar will be rows'dâ— To threaten only that 's a sleeping Borgia A loving dreaming Conscientious Borgia But when I wake there 's always Execution Mach. It has been so Borgia And shall I swear again No Machiavel she must be mine or dye Should she for refuge to the Temple flie I 'd after her there if she scorns my flame To the dumb Sainâ—â— I will my Vows proclaim And in their view resolve the glorious game Upon the Golden Shrines I 'll lay her head And ev'n the Altar make my Bridâ—l Bed Ex. Ambo ACT II. SCENE I. Enter Orsino and Bellamiâ—â— in Mourning Orsino WHERE didst thou get the daring thus to move me â— By thy dead Mothers shrowd not the first Night When in my Youâ—hful arms I grasp'd her to me Was I so hot with Love as now with rage Thou Young and Virgin Witch thou new-found Fury Bella. Ah Sir for Iâ—am afraid to call you Father Give me my Death give to these trembling breasts A thousand wounds or cut me Limb from Limb But do not look so dreadâ—ully upon me Nor blast me with such sounds Oh pity me There 's not one faâ—al sentence one dread VVord But runs like Iron through my freezing blood VVhat have I done Ah what is my offence And tell me how which way I shall aâ—one you Orsin O thou vile wretch what is thy offence Dost thou not know it Exquisite dissembler Thou leading Sorc'ress Hecat of thy Sex Subtlest of all thy kind that ever rowld Their false deluding eyes and in their Glasses Conjur'd for looks to cheat the simple world But to take all evasion from thy guilt Did I not charge thee as thou fear'st my curse This very Morning to adorn thy self As one whom the great Duke intends to honour By makiâ—g thee his Bride Bell. Alas you did And I am come Oh Heaven and all you Powers That pity womans weakness I am come My Lord as you commanded and have vow'd Tho Death atends my Nuptials to obey you Orsin Thou ly'st even in thy heart thou know'st thou ly'st Thou hast maliciously most grosly fail'd In this obedience Say declare haste â—nswer Thou most ungrateful wretch Ah how unlike Thy meek thy Perfect bright and blessed Mother Is this a habit for a glorious Bride Dost thou thus meet the generous Borgia I know thy awkard Heart thou meanst by this To tell the VVorld thou dost not like thy Husband And dash him at the Altar but by Heav'n Whither thou Murdress now art sending mâ— This shall not serve thy purpose In this dress That blasts my eyes and strikes my Soul with sadness I 'll see the Priest for ever make you one Bellam. Ah! how have I deseâ—v'd this cruel usagâ— Did ever Daughter yet obey like me Not she who in the Dungeon fed her Father With her own Milk and by her Piety Sav'd him from Death can match my rigorous Vertue For I have done much more torn off my Breasts My Breasts my very Heart and flung it from me To feed the Tyrant Duty with my blood Orsin Call'st thou the lawful Imposition of A careful Father that intends thee honour Tyrannical and bloody Rage resume me Here seest thou this O would the gallant Borgia Could fling thee from his Soul as I from mine For 't is respect to him that saves thy life Else by the Feaver that quite burns me up I 'd ponyard thee till all thy Robes were Crimson Yet since thou hast the Impudence to brave me And câ—ll thy Father Tyrant to his face I that have foster'd thee even from the Womb And bred thee in my Bosom hear and tremble For I will curse thee till thy frighted Soul Runs mad with horrour till thy Mother starts From her cold Monument to beg me cease Though all in vain Bâ—llam I cast me at your feet I 'm all Obedience See Sir see me here Grovelling upon the Earth Orsin Curs'd be the Night Ten thousand Curses on that fatal hour When my great Spirit trifled with thy Mother For the Production of so false a Joy Bellam. O horrid blasting breath Orsin When I am dead My troubled Ghost shall nightly haunt thy Dreamâ— Bellam. Ah hold I kiss your feet and hug your kneeâ— Orsin Though in thy Husbands Arms I 'll draw the Curtainsâ— And stare thee into Frenzy and thy Lord I 'll Charm so fast thy shrieks shall not awake him Bellam. Yet Sir forbear tread on me trample me Orsin And all the day when other Spirits sleep I 'll follow thee with groans and curse thee still Nay when thou seek'st for company to scape me I 'll make thee scream See there his Spirit stands Bellam. Hear him not Heav'n Orsin After thy first imbrace May thy Lord loath thee swear thou art no Virgin And cast thee off as a most leud Adulteress Bellam. If there be Saints or Angels Oh I charge you Orsin Or if thy Husband should by chance retain thee Heart-burnings Jealousies incite him still To plague thee with a Thousand Hells on Earth And after end thee in some horrid manner Bellam. Ponyard me as you promis'd Sir Oh stab me Orsin Eternal Barrenness shut up thy Womb If ought that 's humane chance to raise thy hopeâ— May it be monstrous at the curst Production An after birth or some abhorr'd Conception Enter Duke of Gandia in Mourning Bellam. Y'have said enough my heart my spirits fail me And I have now my wish without a Dagger Orsin What now another Mourner Hell and Furies They both have plotted to undo my Honour Well Duke of Gandia but I 'll call the Bridegroom Gand. Ha! how 's this the beauteous Bellamira Upon the Earth Help help my Lord she 's cold Your Daughter Swoons Orsin I care not let her perish And thou who hast seduc'd her perish with her Swoon with her sink with her Die both and both be damn'd Ex. Orsino Gand. Wake Bellamira from this sleep of Death Life of Palante's life give me a word See thou art safe clasp'd in thy Gandia's Arms Palantâ— holds thee Say what Murderer Offer'd this cruelty and I 'll revenge thee Bellam. Where am I ha loose loose me from your arms Stand off fly from me fly Palante fly For we must never never meet agen The Poles may sooner joyn O I am lost By an inexorable Father ruin'd Cursed blasted and for thee unhappy Prince Thou hast undone me though not by thy will For sure thou lov'st the wretched
make 'em blâ—ze Bella. I 've done my Lord Let me but dry my Eyâ—s and I will wait you To Death or to your Bed Borg. O ill compar'd Be constant Bellamira to thy Vows So shall we shine as in the in-most Heav'n The fixt and brightest Stars with silent glory Where never Storm nor Lightnings flash nor stroak Of Thunder comes but if you fail in ought Then shall we fall like the cast Angels down Never to rise again Therefore I warn thee Bell. Fear not my Lord. Borg. O! I must fear my temper But I will purge it off with resolutionâ— And with a confidence thou wilt be mineâ— For shouldst thou not Hence Gorgon Jealousie Cam'st thou uncall'd to set me on the Rack Be gone I say she 's chaste and I defie thee O plague me Heavenâ— plague me with all the woeâ— That man can suffer root up my possessions Shipwrack my far-sought Ballast in the Haven Fire all my Cities burn my Dukekoms down Let midnight Wolves howl in my Desart Chambers May the Earth yawn shatter the frame of Nature Let the rack'd Orbs in Whirlwinds round me move But save me from the rage of jealous Love Exeunt ACT IV. SCENE I. Soft Musick with an Epithalamium to Borgia and Bellamiraâ— 1 BLush noâ— redder than the Morning Though the Virgins gave you warning Sigh not at the chance befel ye Though they smile and dare not tell ye 2 Maids like Turâ—les love thâ— Cooing Bill and murmur in their Wooing Thus like you they start and tremble And their troubl'd joys dissemble 3 Grasp the pleasure while 't is coming Though your Beauties now are blooming Time at last your joys will sever And they 'l part they 'll part for ever Enter Machiavel and Adorna Mach. SAy'st thou so loving Adorn O! he has got ground Beyond all expectation Had you seen His graceful manner when the sighing Bride Was last night by your Arms given to his Bed When after she was laid quite drown'd in tears How aw'd with trembling he the Curtains drew And kneeling by hâ—r Bed side took her fair hand With which she strove to hide her Blushes from him And sighing swore upon 't if so she pleas'd If her cold heart refuâ—'d him utterly He would forgo his Joys though death ensu'd You muse my Lord. Mach. This day attend my Motion Soon as my purpose hits which you must watch I 'll train the Bridegroom near Palante's Lodgings Whence as you were before by me instructed You with this Letter which from all the Pacquets I chose and notably suits our design Shall issue forth an act as I inspir'd Adorn I fear this business Lest he should kill me in this height of fuâ—y Murder his Brother or his Innocent Lady Mach. I tell thee though a Whirlwind drove him on I 'll make him calm The consequence of this Iâ— thine He drives Palante from the Palace Who else may linger after Bellamira And then thou know'st Adorn I will about it streight If I get clear of this use me no more For I have sworn to cease Mach. Prithee be gone Use me no more For she has sworn to cease Ex. Adorna To dip her Lady â—inger in new mischief Yes thou shalt cease to live when I have us'd thee Poor useless thing But see the Bridegrooms here Enter Borgia My Lord I give you joy your motion gives it Your wondrous gallantry and sprightly action But hâ—s she wholly yielded to your wishes Without the least reserve Borg. Oh! I cannot tell thee ought but this I am happy Above expression blest beyond all hope And sure such perfect joy cannot last long Lest we be Gods O thou great Chymist Nature Who drawst one spirit so sublimely perfect Thou mak'st a Dreg of all the World beside Mach. Why this at first I told you but you fear'd And push'd the blessing from you with both hands I grant you that she lov'd your Brother first I know he 's young and handsom has a Wit Most suitable to Womans inclination A subtle Genius soft and voluble That winds with their discourse and hits the Vein 'T is true you are not of this subtle Mould But if you have enjoy'd her 't is all one My life she loves you so the Act 's resolv'd Leave them to manage O ye know 'em not Those subtle Creatures when necessity Forces compliance in a case like yours Will make the best on 't Borg. How Machiavel the best on 't Ha! how mean'st thou Mach. Why thus she may ev'n Bellamira may Spight of her Fathers will her Vows in Marriage And all her after-Oaths even in your Arms Bestow her self upon the Duke of Gandia Borg. Ha! Mach. I say not pardon me she does or will But to make good my former argument Affirm they may they can they will do thus As for example though your Bellamira Compell'd as all Rome knows to this late Marriage Admits you to her Bed you cannot think But her Palante had been much more welcome Borg. Heav'n Mach. 'T is likely too her Fancy workt that way I urg'd before she took you for Palante 'T is dark she sees you not you are his Brother Form'd in one Womb of the same flesh and blood Therefore she yields as to foreknown Embraces And as you gently draw with trembling arms Her nice Beauties to your heaving Breasts She shuts her eyes with languishing delight And whispers to her heart it is Palante Borg. Cease Machiavel hold as thou lov'st my life I charge thee hold O 't is most true I swear Thou know'st the very depth of Woman-kind They are what thy Imagination paints 'em Charmers and Sorceresses O I 'll tell thee When I the chastest as I thought her thenâ— I am â—ure the sweetest of the Earth imbrac'd 'T was with complainings Machiavel such tremblings I could have sworn her cold as Winter â—â—â—eams But oh the horrours thou hast conjur'd upâ— Soon as soft sleep had seal'd her melting eyes I heard her sigh for till the morn I wak'd Palante Oh what have we done Palante Mach. By Heav'n that was too much Borg. O much much more For stealing nearer me her glowing arm Cast o're my Câ—eek thrice prest me to her Breast Ev'n that coy arm so nicely strange before Familiâ—â— grew and circled in my Neck With all the freedom of acquainted Love And I too piâ—i'd her and thought that Nature Work'd her imperfectly but now I know I find I see it was her hearts design The black contrivance of her blotted Fancy Blood Blood and Death thus has she set me down Through the whole course of her polluted nights To be her Bawd her most industrious Groom The Drudge of her damn'd Lust Palante's stale Mach Are you incens'd indeed or do you Sir Put on this jealous Fit to make you sport For if so small a Spark thus makes you glow A little more will blow you into Flame Therefore be serious in your Answer Borg. Ha! Thou know'st before my Marriage how I fear'd How when my
ouâ—ragious Than Envy in her Cave or Mad-men in their Dens Borg. Excellent Machiavel more more to lull me Mach. My Tongue should stammer in my earnest wordâ— My eyes should spaâ—kle like the beaten Flint Borg. This hoary Hair should start and stand an end And all thy shaking joynts should seem to curse ' em Mach. Nay since you urge me Sir my heart will break Unless I curse ' em Poyson be their drink Borg. Gall and Wormwood Hemlock Hemlock quench ' em Mach. Their sweetest Shade a Dell of duâ—kish Adders Borg. Their fairest Prospect Fields of Basilisks Their softest touch as smart as Vipers Teeth Mach. Their Musick horrid as the hiss of Dragons All the foul terrors of dark-seated Hell Borg. No more thou art one piece with me my self And now I take a pride in my revenge Mach. You bid me ban and will you bid me cease Now by your wrongs that turn my heart to steel Well could I curse away a Winters night Though standing naked on a Mountains top And think it but a minute spent in sport Borg. Thou best of Friends come to my Arms my Brother But the time calls and Vengeâ—nce bids us part Henceforth be thou the Mistress of my Heart Ex. Mach. Now it grows ripe the Orsins and Vitelli Are buri'd by my Wit without a noâ—se O! 't is the safer course for threats are dang'rous But there 's no danger in the Execution For he thaâ—'s dead ne're thinks upon revenge Whaâ— hoa Alonzo Enter Alonzo Alonz. Here my Lord. Mach. Are the Gloves brought I sent to the Perfumers Alonz. They are Mach. Where is Adorna Alonz. She waits without Mach. As you see her enter Bring me the Gloves 'T were easie strangling her But this is quainter O my bright Adorna Enter Adorna With confidence I swear the Duke is thine Adorn May I believe it Mach. Be judge thy self whether I have been idle These were a Present from the King of Spain To the Pope's Niece of whom the fond young Duke Begg'd 'em for thee Adorn Is 't possible Mach. Stay Madam we must change One Present for another Lend me the Key To Bâ—llamira's Chamber Adorn For what Mach. Nay if we baâ—ter words Adorn Here here my Lord. Now give me the dear Present See see my Lord they are emboss'd with Jewels And cast so rich an Odour they o'recome me Help me my Lord O help me lend your Arm The Earth turns round with me O mercy Heaven Dyâ—sâ— Mach. Remove the Body Then haste and find the Duke of Gandia out E're he removes as he intends to night Having Commission from the Pope to lead Th' Italian Armies earnestly entreat him To honour me by making one last Visit Which equally imports him as his life Enter Borgia and Bellamira Borg. Upon the instant Fairest I must leave you The Lord of Firmo with the Duke your Unclâ— Have taken Sinigallia by surprize What else but meeting thy Victorious Kinsmen Should draw me from thy Arms yet thus divided But for a day or two methinks I part As Souls are sever'd from their warmer Mansions To wander in the bleak and desart Air. O Bellamira Bell. Why do you sigh my Lord If 't is your pleasure let 'em wait you here Or if my Presence can dispel these Clouds That make you say I will attend you â—hither For while life lasts I will be all obedience Borg. Could'st thou hold there how might we laugh at Fate So kindled both by Love and by Ambition How would I sweep like Tempests with a waste Over all Italy and Crown the Empress Here in the Heart of Rome my bright Angusta But 't is impossible Bell. Then you conclude my Lord I am not true Borg. Why art thou Is there such a thing in Nature As a true Wife No Bellamira no Thou would'st be monstrous then ev'n to derision For the whole Flock of common Wives would whoot thee And drive thee like a Bird without one Feather Of thy own kind Bell. Once more upon my knees In view of all the Hierarchy of Heav'n I here attend my spotless Innocence Borg. Still Machiavel still let us keep to death Our Principle that we are dust when dead For were there any Hell or any Devil But hot enough to make an Exhortation Would he not fetch her now would he not dam her I do believe thee guiltless Therefore rise But since thou art so confidently clear Swear Bellamira if I prove thee false What e're I threat nay though I put in act Those Menaces thou wilt not call me Tyrant Bell. I swear by Heav'n I will submit my life To the severest stroke of your revenge Borg. If then I prove thee false O Bellamira Not that Celestial Copy ev'n thy Face Shall scape but I will race the Draught as if It ne're had been the pattern of the Gods Bell. Act what you please but speak no more my Lord For every word 's a bolt and strikes me dead Borg. If thou art false and if I prove thee so That skin of thine that matchless West of Heav'n Which some more curious Angel cast about thee Will I tear off though cleaving to the Shrine Bell. Speak to him Machiavel O fatal Marriage Borg. If thou dost play me false think not of mercy Thy Father shall be burnt before thy eyes Bell. O horrid thought Borg. Thy Uncles Brothers Sisters All that have any relish of thy blood I 'll rack to death and throw their Limbs before thee Therefore look to 't beware if thou art false I 'll take thee unprepar'd and sink thy Soul Therefore I say again beware I 've warn'd thee Body and Soul ev'n everlasting ruine For so may Heav'n have mercy upon mine At my last gasp as I 'll have none on thine Exit Bell. O 't is too plain I am lost undone for ever What but one Night ev'n the first Nuptial Night So sought so courted and so hardly won And the next day nay the succâ—eding Morâ— To be us'd thus Let me go let me go For I 'll proclaim him throuâ—h the streets of Rome The Tâ—aytor Moâ—ster O I could shake the world With thundring forth my wrongs Hollow his Name To the resounding Hills Borgia Traytor Borgia Methinks that word that spell that horrid sound That groan of Air could cleave the neighbouring Rocks And scare the babling Ecchoes from their Dens Mach. Perhaps some busie Slave has whisper'd him I know not what that chafes his melancholy Against your Honour Bell. That 's impossible And I deni'd to admit him to my Bed Some seeming cause some reason for distrust Might then be given but the bright Heav'ns know I had resolv'd to take him for my Lord And love him too or force my inclination So subtly had he wrought by deep dissembling Upon my plain and undiscerning weakness But now he 's gorg'd the Monster shews himself Appears all Beast and I must die he cries Ah Cruelty and all my wretched Race Mach. Madam you know how near a
Friendship grows Betwixt the Duke of Gandia and my self After this night you 'll never see him more Yet e're he goes as he to night is order'd Hew ill unfold if you permit him leave The only means to save your Father's life Nay and the lives of all your Family Bell. O Machiavel now where is thy advice Had I not reason for my dreadful fears My Father dies and by whose Hand but Borgia's What shall I do where shall I go and whither shall I run Ten thousand horrours O instruct me Machiavâ—l For I grow desperate Mach. Admit the Duke of Gandia This night for one last Conference your Husband Cannot return unless he ride the Wind In forty hourâ— Bell. Here I am lost again Should â—e return and find Palante with me Whom I have sworn never to see discourse Never to hear of scarce to think of more What Mountains then should hide me from his fury Yet I see him not my poor old Father With all his Children Brothers and Relationsâ— Top Root and Branches all must be cut down Hear Heav'n hearâ— I must kneel to thee foâ— succour O aid my Vertue and support my weakness Meâ—hinks I am inspir'd some Guardian-Spirit Whispers me save O save thy Father's life Bring him then Machiavel bring the Duke of Gandia Yet stay methinks I see the Tyrant there My bloody Husband with his Ponyard drawn Just at the Door Stop stop the Duke of Gandia He shall not come Why â—hen thy Father dies O horrid state weep eyes and bleed O heart Let Nature burst with these unheard of suff'rings Forbid him Machiavel or let him come All have their Fate and I 'll exâ—ect my Doom Ex. severally ACT V. SCENE I. Entâ—r Machiavel and Alonzo Aloâ—z MY Lord I have been diligent Mach. And always wer't my subtle Emissary My glance of Death and Lanthorn to my mischiefs Alonz. I met the Duke of Ganâ—ia at the Head Of his new Forceâ— and acquainted him As you directed and he 'll streight attend youâ— But as I whisper'd him Duke Valentinâ— With a vast Train came up to take his leave Being call'd as Fame reportâ— to Sinigâ—â—lia But had you seen the Embraces heard the Vows Which Borgia swore should be inviolable And ratifi'd 'em with a parting Kiss Mach. 'T is my own Borgia a very Limb of me And when he dies thou'lt see me halt Alonzo Enter Gandia My Lord most welcom Alonzo hence O Prince Ex. Alonz. Was ever Slave so careful for his Lord That watch'd his Nod as I have been for you Gand. I must with shame to Death acknowledge it But didst thou know or could'st thou guess how near The loss of Bellamira touches me Thou would'st forgive me Mach. I have excus'd you Sir And for a witness of my faster Friendship This Night have sent the Duke to Sinigallia That you might take your last farewel of Love And Bellamira Gand. And has the Cruel Fair consented to it Mach. She has consented rather by constraint Than her own will I was forc'd to tell her How you had signifi'd to me her Father Was in great hazard but if she vouchsaf'd A Visit you would satisfie her better Enter Alonzo Gand. Ha! what 's this a sudden fall of Spiritâ— Alonz. My Lord he 's in 's Litter muffled up In a dark Avenue behind the Palace And bid me fly to tell you Tarquin's Poppies Are bound up all together in one Sheaf Mach. Haste thee and make my Answer thus The Time Calls for their Heads This Key my Lord admits you Gand. 'T is now no time for thanks but if I live Exit Mach. Why this is true Italian turning thus A Key with Machiavellian slight of hand Two Families of the best Southâ—rn Blood With the first Prince in Rome are quite extinct What foggy Northern Brain would dream of this Borgia muffled in a Cloak Borg. My Machiavel Mach. My Prince my God like Borgia Borg. Tell me my Bosâ—m-sin am I awake Alive and may I credit this thy Summons Mach. No sooner were you gone but your Chaste Wife Whom I imagin'd dead with what you utter'd I say this Wife this heavenly Wife of yoursâ— Reâ—ring her Head and wiping her dry Eyes Dropping her Chin to make hâ—r smile more scornful Cry'd out Lord Machiavel you see you see What Things these Husbands are and left the Room Borg. Racks racks and fire Caldrons of molten Lead How shall I torture her Mach. Sreight by her walking Pacquet She signifi'd her pleasure to the Duke Who soon approach'd and with a matchless boldness Desir'd my friendship in this private business I smil'd and promis'd that I would not see Though I beheld Adorna let him in Whom since I poyson'd lest she should betray The secret of your coming Borg. By Death and Vengeance I could turn Cannibal and with my teeth Tear her alive But let us talk no more Enter D. Michael What Hoa Don Michael when I stamp my foot Against the ground bring forth the Prisoners And execute as I shall order Ex. Michael Mach. Pass the back way my Lordâ— this Door is lock'dâ— If that be shut too force it open while I set a Guard on this Millions to one But when she hears your voice she 'll hide the Duke And then deny him boldly to your Face 'T is like those subtle Creatures Borg. Dam 'em Serpents What needs this aggravation Revenge away Exit Mach. Now like a Grey-bound barking in the slips Death struggles for a loose I mâ—st be gone And lurk in Shadows till the Murder 's done Hark 't is doing the Doors are thunder'd down O! for an Earth-quake now to swallow all All that oppose my Tyrant to the Center Scene draws Borgia Bellamira Duke of Gandia disarm'd D. Michael c. Borg. Slave run you down and bar the Palace Gates Let not a Souldier stir on pain of death Till I appoint What 's he you have disarm'd Haste drag him forth and put the Tapers near him Lightning and Thunder Ha! the Duke of Gandia Rage burn me up it is not possible Woman O Woman Bella O Heav'ns O all ye Powers Is there not one one Door for Mercy left Borg. Pull off his Robes and bind him to a Chair Ply him with Fire and Wounds Yes Bellamira There is a Flood-gate but it is of Blood A Gate for Mercy wide as thou hast shown For Honour Chastity and Bridal Vertue See here the Sluce I draw through doors of wounds Thy Vows this sulphurous stench thy Kisses Bella. Hold hold Tormentors Borg. Seize the Furies Arms And execute my Orders Gand. O unmerciful O Borgia when when shall my Torments end Bella. Ha! is it doing Wretches Villains Dogs Miscreants Sons of Hell and Broods of Darkness Gand. Humanity can bear no more My heart strike there Beâ—â—a 'T is done O the dark deed is done O lâ—â— me gather all the rage of Woman And tell this Tyrant to his Teeth he is a Villain Gand. Mercy gentle Borgia mercy Bella. He gentle then
the Devils themselves have mercy O Monster rocky Villain Tyger Hell-hound Seize him you Fiends and Furies dam him dam him May Hell have infinite stories and this Devil Be damn'd beneath the boâ—tomless Foundation Borg. By Heav'n she weeps here dip her Handkerchief Dip'd in his blood and bid her dry her eyes Bella. O thou Eternal Mover of the Heav'ns Where are thy Bolts Gand. I go O Bellamira Thinkâ—st â—hou alas that we shall know each other In the bright World I fear we shall not Oh! Borgia farewel Thy Bride is Innocent Let Bellamira live and I forgive thee Dies Bella. He 's gone to Heav'n he 's gone as sure as thou Shalt sink to Hell thou Tyrant double damn'd Nay thou would'st have me rage and I will rage And weep and rage and show thee to the world Thou Priest Archbishop Cardinal and Duke Thou that hast run through all Religious Orders And with a form of Vertue cloak'd thy horrors Thou proper Son of that old cursed Serpent Who daubs the holy Chair with Blood and Murders But sure the Everlasting has a Chain To bind yours Charm and link you both together Hells Vicar and his first begotten Devil Hotter than Lucifer in all his Flames Enter Alonzo Borg. What hoa Alonzo strangâ—e the prisoners Orsino Vitellozo haste I say Without reply Bella. O spare him spare my Father And I 'll unsay forswear all that I have said O I have play'd the Woman now indeed A lying foolish vext outragious Woman To set your Wrath against the Innocent There was a seeming cause for the Dukes Death And mine But Oh! what has Orsino done Orsino loves you Oh thaâ— good old man Your Father For so a thousand times I 've heard you call him seen you kisâ— embrâ—ce him Therefore he must not cannot dye Borg. Alonzo Alonz. My Lord Borg. Slave I 'll strangle thee Strikeâ— him With my own handsâ— if thou delay'st my Vengeance Say Villain what not dead Alonz. My Lord they are And if I live you shall repent this blow Aside Borg. Go draw the Curtain glut her eyes with Death And strangle her my Veins are all on Firâ— And I could wade up to the eyes in blood Draw draw the Curtain Orsin Vitellez D. Graviana Oliverotto appear disguised Bella. Gorgon Medusa Horror Yet I will shoot through Daggers rush through flames To clasp him in my arms O wretched Paul O noble Orsin what quite cold pale dead And you dear Images will you not give One gasp of breath one groan one last farewel Horror Confusion and eternal shame Light on thee for this deed I tell thee Borgia I see thee on thy Death-Bed all on Fire As if some Hellish poison had inflam'd thee I see thee thrown ten Fathom in a Well Yet still come up like Aetna's belching Flames Borg. I hope thou wilt go mad and prophesie Bella. Yes Tyrant thus thus to thy face I brave thâ—e And tell thee in despite of Threats e're long Thou and thy holy Father shall be seiz'd And carry'd to the Everlasting Goal From whence not all your Spanish Cardinals Your Bailiffs in red Liverieâ— shall redeem you Borg. Dye in thy prophesie Alonzo end her Bella. Thus on my knees then And for terror to thee Hear my last prayer and mark my dying words If I in thought in word in private act Have yielded up this Body to the Arms Of ought that 's Mortal but inhuman Borgia Oh thou impartial and most awful Judge Shut shut thy gates of bliss against my Soul But if my tortur'd vertue merits glory Pardon my frailties see with what joy I leave this life and bring me to perfection She is strangled Borg. What at her Death she that believ'd a Hâ—â—v'n And fear'd a Hell yet to depart a Lyar But how know I that she believ'd a Heav'n Or why with hopes that in the pangs of Death I would reprieve her might she not deny Her Whoredom to the last but that 's unnatural What wouldst thou then I will no more of this It clouds my brain Hence Alonzo bear Bear the Duke of Gandia's Body to the Tibâ—r In some close Chair tye at his neck a Weight And plung him to the Bottom Alonz. my Lord 't is done Ex. Executioners with the Body Borg. I swear I have been cruel to my self For that I lov'd her is as true as she 〈◊〉 past the sense on 't she is cold alâ—eady Enter Machiavel Mach. Ha! this is stately Mischief what my four Foes Of Florence but they are dumb Ha! gazing there I like not that Borg. Her lips are lovelyst ill The Buds tho gather'd keep their Damask Colour Yes and there odour too haste Mâ—chiavâ—l Ruâ—h to my aid I grow in Love with death She shall not dye Run Slaves fetch heither Spirits I will recover her again Mach. Again to plague To meet again another Duke of Gandia Borg. Death on that thought no let her dye and rot The damn'd Adultress perish the thoughts of her Ha tell me come I will no more of her How shâ—ll the bodies be dispos'd I sent My Brother to the Tyber Mach. That 's a trouble I 'll find an easier way for these and her That sleeps within my Closet Go Don Michael Bury 'em all together in quick Lime In some few hours the flesh will be consum'd Then burn the bones and all is dust and ashes Draw here the Curtains on ' em Borg. I swear this body shall not be consum'd I 'll have 't embalm'd to stay a thousand years O Machiavel I swear I know not why But with a World of horror to my Souâ— With tremblings here Convulsions of the heart As if I had some God thus whisper to me Thou ought'st to grieve for Bâ—llamira's Death Mach. My Lord a very fond and foolish Fancy Borg. I say my Lord your policy is out Furies and Hell how should you judge of Love That never lov'd Thou hast no taste of Love No sense no rellish why did I trust thee then Had any softness dwelt in that lean bosomâ— My Bellâ—mira now had been alive Tho I had cause to kill her thou hadst none To set me on but honour jealous honour Oh the last night I tell thee Pollititian When I run o're the vast delight I curse thee And curse my self nay wish I had been found Dead in her Arms But take her bear her hence And thou lov'st me drive her from my Memory They remove her Tell me my Brothers Murder is discover'd That the four Ghosts are up again in arms Say any thing to make me mad and lose This Melancholly which will else destroy me Mach. I here the Pope has sent to Sinigallia To call you back Borg. By Heav'n I had forgot And thou most opportunely has remembred You know twelve Cardinals were then created That solemn Morn that I receiv'd the Rose And I will tell thee halfe those Fools are marrow That bought so high shall veil their Caps for ever Mach. He mends apace 't is
starting up he ask'd For you my Lord bow'd as his Custom is With deep humility to all desir'd 'em To sit and so went out but with a promise Of a most quick return Scene draws and discovers a Chair of state under a Canopy a large Table with a rich Banquet and many Candles on 't Enter Ascanio Adrian Enna Ange two Cardinals more Ascan. My Lord the Vatican Society Who were oblig'd to sacrifice this night As every looser Genius should inspire To Air and Wine and warmer Conversation Grow dull for want of you His Holiness Himselfs retir'd Therefore let us entreat you Borg. O my good Lord Ascanio I am born To be at your Command My Lords I wait you Sirrah remember him I charge thee fill Of the gilt Flask to him Butl. My Lord I shall This Wine is sure the richest of the World Bâ—cause he charges me so strictly of it That Cardinal 's a Friend and he must taste it Ascan. Lord Machiavel you have been charitable I thank your love Nâ—y with my life I thank you Mach. My Lord I wish you would explain your self Ascan. It needs not Sir for this the meanest know The Rabble base Mechanicks talk of murders I saw a sweating Weaver in his Shirt Ran puffing with his Shuttle in his hand To ask a Neighbour Butcher of the news Who with his Knife in 's mouâ—h abruptly tells Orsino's death yes and his Daughters too Then comes a Taylor with his hair tuck'd back Behind his ears on tiptoes in his Slippers And crys in haste the Duke of Gandia's murder'd Then spits upon his Iron cast up his eyes Thâ—eads through the company as 't were a Needle And vanishes no more my Lord I thank you Nay by my life but for the Company I 'd kiss the bottom of your Robe your Lordships ever Your Highness servant My Lord let 's drink a Health to His Holiness But in my heart I say the Devil take him Borg. Lord Machiavel you are my Guest to night Were â—he Society made up of Gods As sure it is of Saints Spirits above The common Elevation yet this man I say my Lords this Human Prodigy Would not be set to wait but fix'd among 'em To dazle with the brightest being here Wine there My Lord Ascanio Sforza Health to all here and to the general joy Drinks Ascan. Fine work my Lords fine work I say look to 't The Duke of Gandia's murder'd Adrian 'T is the common rumour Ennn. The Pope this morning in the Consistory When first he heard the News leap'd from his Throne Crossing his Breast and looking up to Heav'n He vow'd hereafter most severe amendment As from this time to fast for Forty hours And all his life wear next his humble flesh A Shirt of Hair Ascan. A Shirt of Hair bating Lucretian nights She 'll not endur 't look you her skin 's too tender A Shirt of Hair a very prickling Penance Now by my Holy-dame meer Letchery Don't I know him Slave more Wine I say Fill up my Glass Come come my Lords 't is time To look about us and reform the Church Drinks Prune it I say or else like Babylon Like Babel's Whore 't will run up all to seed Hark you Lord Ange. Ang. My Lord. Ascan. My Lord of Enna too we four are As one Soul This Pope's a very leud And wicked Head he 's never well but When he 's plotting Murders Why look you Sirs If a Man cannot speak his mind of State Affairs but he must streight be Dogg'd by Hell-hounds Blood-suckers Decoyers Rascals that watch to throttle him in some By-corner then quoit him like a Cat into The River 't is very fine Now by my Holy-dame It may be our turn next by the Mass it may I say my Lord it may The Indian Boys dance Ha my Lords how do you Like the motion Very pretty very fine O brave Columbus More Wine there a bigger Glass I 'll drink Columbus's health Now by my Holy-dame I am frolicksome and will be active Ha my Lords ha I learnt at Paris when I was A Stripling yet these are pretty Children very fine Boys Enter D. Michael D. Mich. My Lord I gâ—ieve to bring you Mortal News Which were I silent yet in some few Minutes Must wound your Ears your Father 's dead Borg. Hence Raven Thou Boder of the blackest deed of Death My Lords this Villain says the Pope's dead Went he not hence but now sound firm and healthful And promis'd to return D. Mich. My Lord he did But 't is most certain e're he went from hence As all our best Physitians give an Oath He was by some pernicious Traytor poyson'd Borg. O Machiavâ—l where is our forecast now My heart misgives me and my bosom 's hot Who ministred who gave my Father Wine D. Mich. Your Servant for when first your Father enter'd His own Provisions were not come Borg. O Confusion Answer me Villain ha fill'd you his Wine Butl. My Lord I did Borg. What from the gilded Flask why dost thou tremble Horrour consume thee gnaw thee burn thy Entrails Wilt thou not speak Butl. My Lord by your strict Charge That none should taste those Flasks but whom you order'd I judg'd the Wine most Excellent and gave Part of it to your Father Borg. O damn'd Dolt Curst sensless Dog Now Machiavel where are we Ha! by the Furies that invade my Breast And crumble all my Bowels into dust I am caught my self Speak tell me horrid Villain Or I will have thee dragg'd in Thousand Pieces Torn by mad Horses like the flesh of Dogs Thou gav'st me Wine too from the gilded Flasks ha Traytorâ— Come double damn thy self and swear thou did'st not Butl. My Lord I must confess I gave the same To you that was directed for your Friend My Lord Ascanio Borg. Take thy reward then which the Devil thou pour'st Into my Breast thus gives thee back again O Machiavâ—l O do not look upon me I am below thy scorn thus vile caught O basely basely sold by my own wild Ascan. Oh oh oh I have my share on 't too the Devil Thank you Fire fire fire oh my Guts brimstone And fire haste there fly for Antidotes Borg. None none on Earth I â—ell thee Priest can save thy rotten Carkass No Cardinal lye down lye down and roar Think on thy Scarlet sins and fear Damnation Ascan. Legions of Furies here Hell is broke loose And all the Devils are quarter'd in my Bowels Run Slave and for a last revenge produce His mangled Bastard â—hat's some pleasure yet Borg. O Machiavel thy hand I am all flames Yet thou shalt hear no noise sit down my Friend Upon the Earth for there 's my Mansion now Dust and no more and yet methinks 't was hard That this Elaborate Scheme of mighty Man This Parchment where the Lines of Roman greatness By thee so well were drawn should by the hand Of scribling Chance be blotted thus for ever Ascan. I burn I burn I toste I roste
and my Guts fry They blaze they snap they bounce like Squibs And Crackers I am all fire Mach. Is 't possible that you can bear the pangs Of violent poyson thus unmov'd Borg. 'T is little To one resolv'd No let the Coward Statesman Women and Priests whine at the thoughts of death For me whose mind was ever fierce and active Death is unwelcom only for this reason Because 't is an Eternal laziness Enter Alonzo leading in Seraphino with his Eyes out and Face cut Mach. I must confess my mind by what I saw This morning and by what has happen'd since Is deeply shockt even from her own Foundation Ascan. Bear the blind Bastard to his Father go And bid him laugh oh Mach. Horrour new horrour My Lord your Son by that most bloody Cardinal Mangled and blind Borg. Why dost thou wonder at it 'T is all the work of Chance and trick of Fortune Yet this methinks is horrible indeed Come hither Boy Serap Alas I hear your Voice And cannot find the way But am like one benighted in a Wood. Borg. A Wood indeed But oh the Brambles there have us'd thee vilely Serap O Father you are arm'd and have a Sword Will you not for your Seraphino's sake Cut down those Thorns that prick'd out both my eyes I know you will for you were always kind And tender of me oft-times have you held me Fast in your Arms and smil'd and plaid with me Though you 're a Prince a very busie Prince And call'd me little Eyes little indeed For now they 're out and all my Face is cut Nay they have starv'd me too Borg. Death and horrour Serap Why do you press me thus between your Arms As if you lov'd me still I am sure you cannot Pray let me hide my Face within your Bosom For if you look upon me I shall fright you O! I've a pain here just about my heart When you my Lord a long time after me Shall dye will you not lay my little Bones By yours Alas my pain encreases Oh Diâ—s Borg. Revenge thee Boy I ask but that from Fate And see 't is given me Through a thousand Wounds Thus horrid Priest purge out thy lustful blood Stabs Ascâ—â— And Vomit thy black Soul Ascan. Oh! Devil Devil Devil Diâ—sâ— Borg. No Machiavel 't is now fit time to rave For I am now enrag'd to that degree That I will live even in despight of Fortune Stars Fates and all the Juggles of a Heaven Hence bear me Slaves and plunge me into Tyber Deep as I sunk the Duke of Gandia down Till I have quench't this Hell within my bowels Then slâ—y me an Oxe-hide and swadle me Like Hercules in the Nemean-skin 'Till all my poison'd flesh like bark pillâ— off And my bare Trunck stands every brushing wind Enna Where are our Guards My Lords I judge it fit That Machiavel and Borgia should be seiz'd Borg. Seize me what sawcy Priâ—st durst start that motion Am I not Tyrant here The Lord of Rome Does not France dread my Frown and Spain adore me Who then dares talk of seizing me what he This wag tail Priest with the black picked Beard That scowrs the Country round for freckled Wenchesâ— Or was it yâ—u my Lord of Enna Ha! Death where 's my Majesty oâ— vail your Caps Or I will trample you beneath my Feet You Ange that câ—uld prostiâ—uâ—e your Sister To gain a Hat lye there Lord of St. Peter You Cardinal ad Vincula you pack of Hell-hounds That trace me by thâ— blood On on I say On to the brink of Hell Thence plunge together Where on his Throne behold the Master Devil With a great pair of glowing Horns red hot To gore you for your lives incontinence You Ravishers you Virgin pioners You Cuckold-makers of the forked World Ange. Where are your Guards Borg. Hark I hear 'em coming Or is it Dooms day Ha by Hell it is And see the Heav'ns and Earth and Air are all On fire the very Seas like Moulten-glass Rowl their bâ—ight Waves and from the smoky deep Cast up the glaring Dead The Trumpet sounds And the swift Angels skim about the Globe To summon all Mankind Rome Rome is call'd Work work for Hell Hoa Satan Belzebub Belial and Baal Whence this Thunderclap They 've blown us up with Wild-fire in the Air And look how the ball'd Fryâ—rs in Russet-gowns Croak like old Vultures how the flutt'ring Iesuits In blâ—ck and white chatter about the Heav'ns Capuchins Monks with the whole Tribe of Knaves Thâ—n let me burst my spleen Look how the Tassels Caps Hâ—ts and Cardinals Coats and Cowls and Hoods Are tost about the sport the sport of Winds Indulgences Dispences Pardâ—ns Bulls see yonder Priest they sly they 're whirld aloft They fly They fly or'e the backside o' th' world Into a Limbo large and broad since call'd the Paradise Of Fools Enna 'T is just we give him way this fit of rage Has wasted him to Death see he breaths short The Taper's spent and this is his last Blaze Borg. Ha! Breath I short Prelate thou ly'st my pulse Beats with a constant fire and spritely motion The strings of my tough Heart as strong as ever No I will live in spight of Fate I 'll live To be the scourge of Rome I 'll live to act New mischiefs and create new wicked Popes To ponyard Heretick Princes that refuse To lay their Nâ—cks beneath the holy Slipper Murder successively two Kings of France Britain attempt though her most watchful Angel Saves the Lov'd Monarch of that happy Isle And turns upon our selves the plotted Wound That sinks me to the Earth yet still we 'll on And hatch new dâ—eds of darkness O Hell and Furies Why should we not since the great Head himself Will back my Plots joyn me in blood and horror And after give me Bond for my Salvation I swear I will I 'll have it nay Sir you shall Or I will thunder to your Holiness But hark he whispers what a little Gold With all my heart thus Devils buy souls for trash I 'll fee your itching palm for Absolution Gold for my pardon hey 't is seal'd and given And for a Ducat thus I purchase Heav'n Dies Maeh The mighty soul there forc'd her furious passage And plunges now in deep Eternity I see my Lords you have resolv'd to guard me And I submit to strict Examination By you to be acquitted or condemned Yet this I must avow before you all Though you should cast me to the Inquisition Skill'd as I am in all Affairs of Earth Known both to Popes and Kings and often honour'd With Cabinet Councils of Imperial Heads I here resolve on this as my last Judgment No Power is safe nor no Religion good Whose Principles of growth are laid in Blood EPILOGUE WELL then be you his Iudges what pretence Made them roar out this Play would give offence Had he the Pope's Effigies meant to burn And kept for sport his Ashes in an Vrn To try if Reliques would perform at Home But haâ—f those Miracles they do at Rome More could not have been said nor more been done To damn this Play about the Court and Town Not if he had shown their Philters Charms and Rage Nay â—onjur'd up Pope Jone to please the Age And had her Breeches search'd upon the Stage First then he brings a scandal on the Gownâ— And makes a Priest both Leacher and Buffoon Why was no Fool yet ever made a Flamen But dulnâ—ss quite entail'd upon the Lay men Or was it ever heard in Rome before That any Priest was quâ—stâ—on'd for his Whore Yet more the horrid Chair the Mid night show He says 't was done two hundred Years ago He only points their ways of murdering then If you must damn spare the Historian's Pen And damn those Rogues that act 'em oâ—re again But Dominicks Franciscans Hermits Fryars Shall breed no more a Race of Zealous Lyars Villains who for Religion's Propagation Come here disguis'd in ev'ry mean Vocation And sit in Stalls to spy upon the Nation Old Emissarâ—es shall their Trade forbear Spread no more Savoy Reliques Bones and Hair Shall sell no more like Baubles in a Fair Monks under ground shall cease to earth like Moâ—es And Father Lewis leave his lurking-holes Get no more Thirty Pâ—unds for a blind Story Of ficeing a Welch Soul from Purgatory Iesuits in Rome shall quite forswear their Function And not for Gold give Whores the Exâ—reme Unction High English Whores that have all Vices past Shall cease to turn true Catholicks at last When Poets write tho by exactest Rules And are not judg'd by Knaves and damn'd by Fools FINIS