spread at their full length Enter Alonzo and Don Michael D. Mich. ARE these the Presents say'st thou of the late New Cardinal Ascanio Sforza Alonz. They are he offers thus to Machiavel And thinks that Gold may bribe him to betray The Duke Valentinois But Michael tell me What does the World report of this Creation Does it not rail and gâ—in and bite the Pope D. Mich. Has it not Reason For betwixt our selves Would any man in his high Dignity So vilely sell the Glories of the Church Twelve Cardinals at once created Ascanio first because he bids him most A fine effeminate Villain bred in Brothels Senseless illiterate the Jear of Rome A blot to the whole See! One fitter far For Hospitals that paints and patches up A wretched Carkass worried in the Stews But see the gaudy Pageant moves this way How spruce he looks and with a Pocked Glass Surveys the gloating Image Alonz. All Luxury I heard the night succeeding his Creation That he got drunk and kiss'd the Prelates round For joy But see he comes retire and leave me Ex. D. Mich. Enter Ascanio Sforza Ascan. Well Borgiâ— well if I am not reveng'd Was there none else in Rome but Bellamira Ah Bella Bella Bella Bella Bellamira I saw her first at Mass as I remember Cherubin and Seraphin were nothing to her Oh such a skin full of alluring flesh Ah such a ruddy moist and pouting Lip Such Dimples and such Eyes such melting Eyes Blacker than Sloes and yet they sparkl'd fire Then such a way she had to roul 'em round As thus and thus a thousand amorous ways And wink and gloat and turn 'em to the corners Alonz. My Noble Lord Ascan. My dear my dear Alonz Nay let me greet thee 't was the Father's Custom But tell me lovely dear Alonzo tell me Thou hast the softest fine Complexion for A Lover best take heed of walking late Tell me I say or I will pinch thy Cheek Moves he this way or does he teem alone With some state Birth if so I 'll wait agen Alonz. Whom does your Eminence intend Ascan. Thy Lord Whom should I mean intend or think of else Thy Lord and mine Well he 's an Oracle intend Why man I dream of nothing else Alonz. But Wenches Ascan. O Machiavel there there 's a word a sound An Air a blast a Thunder-clap of wit To rouse our Foggy thick-scull'd Cardinals I 'll say no more Would he were Popâ— Head of the Christian World and I his Engine His particular member to bring to cast To throw disperse convey the warmest Sprinklings of his benediction Alonz. My Lord I humbly offer'd your Address While with an eye swift as the Sun and piercing He ran your Letter o're and sure it stirr'd him For strait he turn'd and darting me he ask'd If the great Cardinal meaning you my Lord Which shews the deep respect he bears your Person Knew not that Borgia was his best of Friends Borgia he cry'd again to whom the Lords Of Florence sent me their Ambassadour With promis'd aid against the Rebel Orsins Ascan. Has he receiv'd stay I say has he here Open thy Fist now gripe me fast and tell me Alonz. I durst not name your Presents But bowing soon retir'd and plac'd em here That as he follows he may view at once All your Magnificence if ought of Earth His temper holds this lightning will dissolve it But see He comes be pleas'd Sir to retire And you shall hear the Zeal with which I serve you Enter Machiavel Mach. Thus have I drawn the platform of their Fates As oft I have beheld by Masters hands A Tale in painting admirably told Here a soft Dido stabb'd into the breast A Hero there thrown headlong from a Window To meet her Lover wrack'd upon the Shore So have I form'd in more than Brass or Marble The Deaths of those whom I intend to hush O Caesar Borgia such a Name and Nature That is my second self a Machiavel A Prince who by the vigor of this brain Shall rise to the old height of Roman Tyrants Alonz. He deeply thinks nor dare I interrupt him Till he comes forward Ascan. Peace and give him way Oh such a Head-pieceâ—â— Mach. In all my strict enquiries all the Humours Which I have drain'd with more than Chymists pains I have not found a temper so compleat To finish forth a greatness as my Caesar's First he 's a Bastard got in a fit of Nature She shook him from her Nerves in a Convulsion His Father stampt the Bullion in a heat And taking from the Mint the fiery ore His Image blest and cry'd it is my own Yet more a Priest begot him and 't is thought That Earth is more oblig'd to Priests for Bodies Than Heav'n for Souls nay and a young Priest too Perhaps in the Embraces of a Nun Who ventur'd life to clasp the lusty joy Ascan. Oh if a man could but hear him now Brain all brain Alas Alonzo we are stuff to him Meer Entrails but the Guts of Government Nothing to him hark he goes on Mach. Why what a start of Nature is this man Whom by Ambition not by Love I 'll raise Therefore Ascanio's new golden World I gravely take for ruine to the Bride To her old doting Father Broâ—hers Uncles And the whole Race of Orsin and Viâ—elli Is sixt by Fate and me No more the fleeâ—ing Air May catch the sounds and walls themselves have ears Alonz. My Lord the Cardinal Ascanio coming 〈◊〉 bowing Is planted to your order Mach. Let him hear us Urge me no more for â—is impossibleâ— Alonz. My Lord he thinks not so He says your Voice is as the mouth of Heav'n Stiles you a God and in the extravagance Of his unbounded admiration swears Nothing to you can be impossible Mach. Extravagance indeed Yet such extravagance expresses love And merits all my thâ—nks and had he mention'd Ought but the ruine of my best Friends I would with all the Wings of expedition Have shot through 1â—00 bars to do him service Alonz. My Lord he does not hint at Borgia's ruine Mach. Does he not wish that I should break the Nuptials 'T is sure the Marriage I at first dislik'd I pierc'd â—he Charmer with a narrow eye And found how Wit and Beauty threatn'd in her With all the subtlest graces that might â—ull Stubborn ambition to inglorious rest But love already had perform'd his part And laid the Warring Borgia at her Feet How then should I oppose his first Enjoyment Who was his Legate and sollicited The Parents of the beauteous Bellamira Alonz. At least Sir for the future lay some block That may disturb the progress of their loves And since you have alledg'd 't is for his glory This Marriage were undone since it is done Let it be hurtful in the consequence Mach. Thus I should prove indeed a Friend to Florence Who hate Orsino's Race Nay I should act The truest Part of Friendship to my Borgia Snatching this Soft'ner from
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
for your sake And charm his pains but with one parting view Before your Lord return Bella. Alas I dare not Mach. He graspt me by the wrist and weeping vow'd 'T would be a Heav'n a Lightning in his Grave Where else he must for ever lye unpiti'd Now on my Soul you must you ought to see him Who ballancing the Scales of doubtful life Lies in your way a glance one grain of favour Turns him from Death Come come you must have mercy Madam I 'll wait and intercept your Lord. Bella. A Visit just upon our Marriage too But 't is the last that he shall e're receive Therefore I 'll go Nature Compassion Fate And Love far more tyrannical than those Forces me on I feel him here he throbs And beats a Mournful March Mach. Fear not away I 'll guard the passage look not back but haste Ex. Bellamira If I remember story well old Rome Was free from all this weakness of the mind For Women oh how slightly were they thought of When the great Cato gave his Friend his Wife To breed him his Heirs because she was a Teemer And after he was dead again receiv'd her This was before the Vandals made us Slaves Who mingling with our Wives begot a Race That nothing holds of the old Lyon Glory Enter Borgia But hush more work and now I am compos'd Borg. Welcom my best of Friends my Machiavel Let me unlade on thee my fraught of joy For Bellamira's mine her Vows are mine Her Father gave her and the Holy man Has liâ—k'd our Hands Fortune perhaps e're long May joyn our hearts However dearly bought I say she 's mine Mach. However dearly bought Borg. True Machiavel most dearly but alas He that would reach the Mine must burst the Quarry And labâ—ur to the Center Ha thou' rt cold Sâ—art from this Lethargy and tell me why Why dost thou shake my joys wiâ—h that stern look Speak for to me thy Face is as the Heav'ns And when thou smil'st I cannot fear a Storm But now thy gather'd brows prognosticate Ill weather Lightning sparkles from thy Eyes Speak too though thunder follow Mach. On what conditions had the Prince his life Borg. It was agreed betwixt us solemnly And bound by Oath that he was subdu'd Should never speak to Bellamira more Mach. I am satisfi'd Borg. O Machiavel is this friendly To hide the Cause of thy disorder from me Thou said'st I am satisfied but at that moment I saw two furies leap from thy red Eyeâ— That said thou' rt not thou art not satisfi'd This coldness of thy Carriage this dead stillness Makes me more apprehend than all the noise That mad-men raise Speak then but do not blast me Speak by degrees let the Truth break away In oblique sounds for if it come directly I fall at once split ruin'd dash'd for ever So little am I Master of my Passion Mach. Therefore I dare not tell you Borg. Therefore 't is horrid ah Monstrous 't is so therefore thou darst not tell me But speak though trembling thuâ— from head to foot I will be calm press down the rising sighs And stifle all the swellings in my heart I will be Master far as Nature can Mach. If that you knew such Fire was in your temper And thus would burn you up why would you marry Borg. Because resistless Love resistless Bâ—auty Hurry'd me on But speak thou staâ—'st me off If thou hast Sense of Honour tell me Machiavel Speâ—k I conjure thee as thou arâ— my Friend Mach. The fault 's not great and you may pardon it Yet 't was a fault I think where did you leave Your Bride Borg. Why dost thou ask I know not where This way they led her and as I perswaded` Orsino though unwilling judg'd it fit She should retire again to her Apartment That her full grieâ—s might have a time to waste Mach. She is retir'd my Lord. Borg. Ha! whither speak She is retir'd where she should not retire 'T is true most plain most undeniable I know it by the fashion of thy Wit Thy accent swears it mouth thy Tale no more But say distinctly whither she 's retir'd I charge thee pray thee and conjure thee speak For what with whom and on what new occasion Mach. you have a Brother Borg. O the prejur'd Traytor I have what then Mach. She 's with him now Borg. With whom Mach. Why with the Duke of Gandia with your Brother Palente Son or Nephew to the Pope Borg. What Bellamira with him Ponyards Daggers Mach. This way but now I saw her come in haste Whether she guss'd the matter by your Wound I know not but with faultring speech she ask'd How far'd Palante if he were in being Whereon I nothing muâ—'d but in plain terms With moderation told her what I knew But had you seen the starts and stops she made Borg. No doubt she did Ten Thousand Curses oh Go on for yet I am a fangless Lion Macâ— Hâ—d you but heard when first his Wound I mention'd How she â—hâ—â—ek'd ouâ— how oft she forced me swear And swear and swear again it was not mortal Bâ—rg Undone â—or ever O destruction seize her Mach But when I told your hurt she seem'd scarce griev'd And lâ—ssening sorrow yielded to attention I do not say she sâ—aâ—lâ— did rejoice But sure I am she smil'd and touch'd my Hand And begg'd me if you came this way to hold you In talk while to the sick she made a visit Borg. Thy Bosom be my Grave bear me a while Or I shall burst O Bellamira Oh! Mach. Raise raise your self Ha Prince is this the Fire We fâ—ar'd but now that most transporting fury Borg. No more 't is gone O Marriage now I find thee Thou costly Feast on which with fear we feed As if each Golden Dish we taste were poison'd Whâ—re by the fatal Tyranny of Custom Our Honour like a Sword just pointing o're us Hangs by a Hair Ha! but it comes 't is faln Like a forked Arrow stuck into my Skull No more I am deaf as Adders and as deadly Mercy no more thy Voice is quite uncharm'd All piâ—y thus be dry'd from my weak Eyes Here will I look my Mothers softness off And gaze till Souâ—hern Fury steels my Soul Till I am all my Father till his Form All bloody o're from Head to Foot with slaughter Skims o're my pollish'd Blade in frowns to haste me Mach. What mean you Sir Borg. I know not what my self Off from my Arms away I â—ve oftentimes heard At Princes Murders Monstrous Births forbode The Heavâ—ns themselves rain Blood Why let it rain If my Heart holds her purpose with this hand â—â—ll swell the Purple Deluge Vengeance Death and Vengeance Exit Mach. No my brave Warrior 't is not gone so far These starts are but the hasty Harbingers To the slow Murder that comes dragging on The Mischiâ—f's yet but young an Infant Fury 'T is the first brawl of new-born Jealousie But I have Mâ—chiavellian Magick here
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
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