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
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
discourse you last You fell into Convulsions of Despair With mentioning the very name of Rival And thundâ—r'd out whole Volleys of revenge Borg. Tâ—ue Machiavel but could not think my Rival Shâ—uld prove my Brother Mach. Ha! Borg. Raise raise me Heav'n Some other Man that dares to take her from me To snatch the only Beauty I can love And at the Altar too from my imbraces If I not end him though he were Imperial Ev'n in the middle of his Guards Mach Your Brother And have you Confiâ—maâ—ion that she loves him Borg. Why dost thou wondeâ— I both saw and heard Heaâ—d all his Vows and her most passionate Answers She loves him Yes these cursed Remâ—mbrancers These eyes have seen it O! she dotes on him Feeds on his looks eyes him as pregnant Women Gaze at the precious thing their Souls are set on Mach. And you pâ—rhaps will bear it from a Brother With all the meekness of an Anchorite A man of quite another Worldâ— you 'd best Go to the Wars be shot and leave this Brother The Heir of all sole Darling of the Pope Borg. 'T is certain that I seem'd to all appearance Mild and relenting bâ—gg'd 'em leave me here That I might think Mach. Think by your Holy Father You have no blood no soul nor spirit left The Genius of your House must blush at this A Brother why so much the more a Villain Borg. O Machiavel Mach. O Conscientious Borgia By all that 's great it is in him flat Incest There 's â—or your Conscience if you will have Conscience She was betroth'd yours by her Father's Will Publish'd to the World and what else makes a Marriage And for a Brother thus to undermine you And carry it too Are you Italian born Begot by one O make it not a doubt I grieve I groan I am mad to see you thus What to be made the talk the jeer of Rome As once you were at Paris by Charlotta No I 'll revenge thee cold as thou art and dead And may this Steel be sheath'd in Machiavel If that the treacherous Duke of Gandia scape me Exiturns Borg. Come back I say for what is to be done I 'll act my self Where was I or where am I No Machiavel thou know'st 't is not my Conscience That lets the Villain live I think thou hast heard The fatal Jars w'have had about my Sister For I remember being in her Bath And by her Women told we were at words She ran in haste half naked to the Pope Who came to part the fray and swore in fury With horrid Imprecations who-e're sell By th'oâ—hers hand he never would have mercy On the Surviver This my Machiavel Is Borgia's Conscience For to do a murdâ—r And not be safe is Drunkards policy Mach. What then is your intent Borg. To follow Nature For so do Flames that burn and Seas that drown Yes Machiavel and care not what comes on 't So when security and black occasion Point me to death I will be rough as those And blood him till he changes to a Ghost Yet since my Fathers threats bar present murder I 'll find a way to rack him Mach. Ha! you mean To take again your beauteous Prize that is The lovely Bellamira still retains Some holds about your heart Borg. O 't is confess'd And howsoe're my Tongue has plaid the Braggart She Reigns more fully in my Soul than ever She Garrisons my Breast and Mans against me Even my own Rebel thoughts with thousand Graces Ten thousand Charms and new discover'd Beauties O! hadst thou seen her when she lately blest me What tears what looks and languishings she darted Love baâ—h'd himself in the distilling Balm And oh the subtle God has made his entrance Quiâ—e through my heart he shouts and triumphs too And all his Cry is Death or Bâ—llamira Mach. Why this is like the Spirit of your Father You bring his graceâ—ul vigour just before me Just just as first he wore the triple Crown Just so he walk'd just with that fiery Movement So sparkled too his eyes so glow'd his Cheeks Nor fear Palente when she 's in your Arms When she perceives the fervour of your passion Panting upon her naked Breasts for Mercy Borg. Sighing as if my very Soul would burst And gasping Machiavel as if Deaths pangs were on me Mach. Now stealing to her Lips dissolv'd in Tears And pressing close but softly to her side Whispering O why why gentle Bellamira Then with a sudden start let loose your love Grasp her as if you could no longer bear it Clasp her all Night and stifle her with Kisses O there are Thousand ways Borg. Ten Thousand Thousand Millions and infinite yet add to those I 'll try 'em all nor shall a drop of mercy Fall from my Eyes though I beheld Palante Dead at her Door O expectation burns me O Bellamira heart how she does inflame me Mach. Then there 's no need of warlike preparations Borg. Talk no more of War for now my Theme's all Love The War like Winter vanishes 't is gone And Bellamira with eternal Spring Drest in blew Heavens and breathing Vernal Sweets Drops like a Cherubin in smiles before me Mach. Oh that the World could but behold you thus That Bellamira saw you in this height Of dazling Passion and becoming Fury Borg. Thus to a glorious Coast through Tempests hurl'd We sail like him who sought the Indian World 'T is more 't is Paradise I go to prove And Bellamira is the Land of Love I have her in my view and hark she talks And see about like the first Maid she walks Fair as the Day when first the World began And I am doom'd to be the happy man Exeunt ACT III. SCENE I. Enter Ascanio and Alonzo Alonz. MY Lord this is an Act so newly horrid So ghastly a contrivance of Revenge That Fiends themselves would start at the Proposal I to do this I who have bred him up Oh Seraphino â— Nurs'd thee in my Bosom To gash thy Cheeks and tear out both thy Eyes Ascan. The sums of Gold are order'd to be paid Half on your bare consent on Execution The whole Alonzo thou hast no compassion When Interest comes in play Don't I know At the Command of Machiavel or Borgia Thou would'st not stick to poyson ev'n the Pope Come come dissemble not thy Occupation Murder 's thy Trade and Death thy Livelihood Therefore perform this act of spritely Vengeance And I 'll Create thee Noble Alonz. 'T is sure e're long when I have serv'd their turn They will end me too for fear of talking Therefore my Lord how-e're my Conscience stings me For 't is most true I love the Innocent Boy Send home the Gold Ascan. Thou shalt along with me I will not send but pay it thee in hand Full Twenty Thousand Crowns Why what a sum is that Full Twenty Thousand Crowns Why I will tell thee there are Roguâ—s in Ordeâ—s Monks Fryers Iesuites that would kill their Fathers Ravish their
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
Shall nurse this Brood of Hell to such perfection As shall e're long become the Devil's Manhood But hark the Noise approaches and the time Put 's me in mind of Bellamira's Letters Exiâ— Enter Borgia Belâ—amira Gandia Borg. Furies and Hell yet e're thou dy'st proud Villain Let me demand thee how thou dar'st abuse My Mercy thus Gand. I give thee back the Title And have a heart so well assur'd of Death That I disdain to answer Borg. Dye then Traytor Bella. Hold Borgia hold Hear Bellamira speak Borg. Confusion off and play not thus with Thunder Lest it should blast thee tooâ— Hence off I say Though thou deserv'st a Fate as sharp and sudden I will take leisure in thy death Be gone Bella. Behold I grasp the Dagger draw it through And gash my Veins and tear my Arteries I 'll fix my hand thus to the wounding Blade While life will let me hold and force thee hear me Borg. Say'st ha wilt thou darst thou brave me thus Thus guilty too once more forego my Ponyard Bella. No draw it Cruel let thy Bloody Deeds Be swifter than thy Threats I fear thee not But thus will wound my self or quite disarm thee Now you shall hear me Borg. Is this possible Ha! Borgia where where is thy Fury nowâ— Where thy Revenge O Woman in perfection Thou dazling Mixture of Ten Thousand Circâ—'s In one bright heap cast by some hudling God How dar'st thou venture thus how dar'st thou do this Yet heave thy Breasts pant breathe and think on mâ—rcy Bella. My Acts have shown the care indeed I take To save my life No Prince not for my own I would be heard but for your innocent Brother's Palante Borg. Haâ— Palante Yes I know thee There hangs thy Joy thy Pulse thy Breath and Motion Blood Life and Soul thy Darling-Blessing's here And more than all the joys of Heaven hereafter O World of Horror O Contagion on The Day when first I saw thee Bella. Would you but hear Boâ—g Come off I say tear thy scarf'd wound tear 't up With â—hese diâ—â—â—lling drops come glut thy Eyes Glut 'em with Blood for Borgia's Blood 's thy Joy For say When at the Altar I stood bleeding Speak Tygress barbarous Wretch thou she Palante Did'st thou once ask the occasion of my Wound No I râ—member â—hy uneasie Caâ—riage Hâ—w oâ—â—en thou look'st back with longing Eyes How ofâ— in sâ—cret thou didst curse the Priest The tedious length of whose slow Ceâ—â—monies Keâ—t thee â—rom flying to Palante's Aâ—ms Gand. Farewel my Lord think Bellamira guiltless Aâ—d you shall never see Palante more Borg. Stayâ— Sirâ— come back I know your Wound 's a trouble But the reward I mâ—â—n is worth your waiting Here take him Bellamira clasp him I gâ—ve him thee as our Physicians do Pâ—escribe lâ—st Remedies to save thy life I give him thee to save thy gasping Soul Which would be damn'd wiâ—hout him yet observe Theâ—e is a Deed that must that shall be done Before you laugh and kiss See here my bosom Strike and strike deep deep as Palante burns thee For in thy Heart hot in thy inmost Veins I know the cursâ—d the too lov'd Traytor lies Gand. I do râ—nounce thy name and to the Giver Râ—â—ort it with an equal Indignation Borg. Râ—tort it what Gand. The name of Traytor Borg. Ha! Pâ—ovoke me not lest as I am unarm'd I câ—ush tâ—ee wiâ—h my Handâ— and dash thee Dead Bella. Hold off and hear me noble Borgia hear me Hear me my Loâ—d my Husband hear me kneeling Tâ—ou whom the Heav'ns have destin'd to my Arms Tâ—e câ—nstant Partner of my nicest thoughts Doâ—m'd to my Bed whom I must learn to love Aâ—d wilâ— unless you turn my Heart to Stone Borg. Ha! O! sâ—ch sweet woâ—ds ne're fâ—ll â—rom that fair mouth Bâ—fâ—â—e nor can I trust 'em now Beâ—la If you call back Thâ— Vengeance which your impious Vows let slip I swâ—ar thus sinking on your Feet I swear Never from this sad hour never to see Nor speak no nor if possible to think Of poor Palante more Borg. Go on go on I swear the Wind is turn'd And all those furious and outragious passions Now bend another way Bella. I will hereafter With strictest duty serve you as my Lord And give you signs of such most faithful love That it shall seem as if we languish'd long As if we had been us'd to mingle sighs And from our Cradles interchang'd our Souls As if no breach had ever been betwixt us As if no cruel Father forc'd the Marriage I so resigning as if always yours And you so mild as if no other proof But my dishonour e're could make you angry Borg. O my heart's joy Rise Bellamira rise There 's nothing left nothing of rage to fright thee Thou hast new tun'd me and the trembling strings Of my touch'd heart dance to the Inspiration As if no harshness nor no jars had been Had these sweet sounds but met my entrance here My ghastly fears and cloven jealousies With all the Monsters that made sick my Brain Had fled so soft and artful are thy strains Like fallen Fiends before the Prophets Charms Bella. I came 't is true my Lord to see Palante But thought him on his Death-bed Borg. O no more I do intrest thee mention that no more All 's well and we have mutually forgiven I love thee Bellamira therefore pass This Errour by yes for thy self I love thee To gluâ— my fancy with thy endless Charms And sâ—â—â—ch the pleasures of all Woman-kind Thy fair Repentance and thy graceful Vows Have tuâ—â—'d the â—â—gerness of sworn revenge To furious Wishes for the promis'd Joy Enter Orsino Gand. O blasting sight O death to all my hopâ—â— Life thou art vile and I will wait no â—â—nger Orsin Ha! Traytor Prince why Borgia does he live Who has himself broke all the tyes of blood Where is the leud Adult'ress too my Daughter For I will stab 'em in each others Arms. Borg. Hold Orsino for revenge is now Nâ— more Thy Daughter is most innocent And melts into my Arms. O happy Night Not to the weary Pilgrim half so welcome When after many a weary bleeding step With joyful looks he spies his long'd fâ—r Home See see my Lord the effects of our Vexation Thus comes to the despairing Wretch the glad Repâ—ieve â—Tis Mercy Mercy at the Block Thus the toss'd Seaman after boisterous Storms Lands on his Country's Breast thus stands and gazes And runs it o're with mâ—ny a greedy look Then shouts for joy as I should do and makes The Ecchoing Hills and all the Shoars resound Orsin Now Blessings on thy Heart more Blessings on thee Than on thy Disobedience Curses Take him Girl And lay him to thy heart the warmest Gift That Naâ—uâ—e or thy Father can bestow Gand. Farewel thrice happy Lover never shall This Wretch again disturb youâ— Bellamira O Bellamira Exit Bella. O farewell for ever Borg. Why dost thou weep and pour into my wounds New Oyl to
Honour was ingag'd by Vows Like Flax my jealous temper caught the Flame And scarce could all her melting sorrows quench me Mach. I do remember well Borg. But now I have enjoy'd her mark me Machiavel If I was Flax before I am Powder now And will fly up in general Conflagration For I would chuse to scramble at a Door Make my loath'd Meals out of the common Basket With Dungeon Villains wallow in the Stews And get my Bread by poysoning my firm Limbs E'â—e pass an hour with her I have Espous'd If but in thought consenting with another Mach. I am glad to find the Genius of your Climate Inflames you thus my Lord give me your Hand Prepare your Soul gather your Nobler Spirits And bid ' â—m stand to Armâ— like Towns besieg'd That must receive no Quarter Borg. Let me go So deep thou threaten'st that I feâ—r ev'n thee And from this moment like the fearful Plant Shrink back my Arms from every Human touch But speak I charge thee slip the strugling Thunder And foil my Soul Mach. This Morning just before you enter'd here I saw in haste Adorna cross the Garden And as she ran a Note dropt from her Bosom Which I took up and in it read these words Mourn not my dear Palante for the time Draws on â—hen spite of this inhumane Borgia We will be happy Borg. Yes she shall she shall I 'll joyn 'em Breast to Bosom stab 'em through And clinch my Dagger on the other side Mach. This as I oft perus'd in great amazement I saw her who had miss'd the Note come back And briefly let her know that I had read it With Menaces unless she told me all Immediately to carry you the Letter Why should I rack you longer your Chaste Wife Has with the help of this her Kinswoman Concluded on the date of your first absence To admit your Brother Borg. 'T is impossible 'T is mountainous to Faith I 'll not believe it For Hell it self ne're teem'd with such a falshood Enter Adorna Mach. Ha as I live just from Palante now The private way from his Apartment see Their Emissary comes Borg. O thou vile Bawd Thou Midnight Hag thou most Contagious Blast Which Bellamira with a Strumpets breath Blows to Palante and he back to her Whence com'st thou speak what bear'st thou Ha produce it Or I will tear thee Limb from Limb. Adorn O Heav'ns I am betray'd undone for ever ruin'd and I shall lose my life Borg. Thou shalt be safe I swear thou shalt if thou confess the truth But if thou hide ought from me I will rack thee Till with thy horrid Groans thou wake the Dead Adorn O my Lord I do confess that Bellamira sent meâ— But sure no harâ— was in the Letter Borg. None None at all Hell knows her Innocence But speak Adorn I have my Lord confess'd already All that I know to my Lord Machiavel Borg. Thou ly'st damn'd Wretch look here and dare not urge me Show me the Answer to the Morning Message Or I will cut thee to Anatomy And sâ—arch through all thy Veins to find it out Adorn O save my life behold my Lord this Paper What it conâ—ains I know not Borg. 'T is his hand Mach. Be gone and on thy life no talk of this Ex. Adorna Borg. reads Palante waits upon your motion Death and Devils And when you call he comes or the long sleep Shall hush him ever Daggers Poyson Fire Tears the Letter Woe and ten thousand horrours on their Souls Mach. What now my Lord Borg. Off or I 'll stab thee through Stab I could mangle tear up my own Breast Drag forth my heart that holds her bleeding Image And dash it in her face Mach. Talk no more on 't but do Sir do Borg. Yes Machiavel I will I will do deedâ— Grain'd as my wrongs I will I will be bloody As Pyrrhus daub'd in Murder at the Altar As Tullia driving through her Fathers Bowelsâ— As Caesar Butchers in the Capitol As Nero bâ—thing in his Mothers Womb With all succeeding Tyrants down to ours Lords of the Inquisition black Contrivers Of Princes Deaths and Heads of Massacres Orsino Vitellozzo Duke Gravina Oliverotto too all all at once Even the whole Race a Hecatomb to Vengeance Mach. Hear me one word Borg. Bid the Sea listen when the weeping Merchant To gorge its ravenous Jaws hurls all his Wealth And stands himself upon the splitting Deck For the last plunge No more let 's rush together For Death rides Post. Mach. Though Death should meet me More horrid then you Name I 'd cross this fury This blind ungovern'd rage Sir you shall hear me Borg. Barr'st thou my Vengeance Mach. No I 'll further it You shall have proof so plain the World shall say The Pope himself dear as he loves your Brother Shall say the stroke was just This Night I 'll bring you Into her Chamber if with some pretence You seem t' absent your self my Lord I 'll bring you With a false Key into the Bridal Lodging Where you shall see even with those eyes behold And gaze upon their curst incestuous Loves Borg. Just reeking from my arms O thou Adulteress Whose Name to mention sure would rot my Lungs And blister up my Tongue Insatiate Scylla Bark'st thou for more then let the Furies seize thee Whose burning Lust damns to the lowest Hell Smoaks to the Heav'ns and sullies all â—he Stars Mach. Compose your looks smooth down that starting hair And dry your eyes with spiâ—e of this distraction I see are full brim full of gushing tears Borg. Had she not fall'n thus O ten thousand Worlds Could not have balanc'd her for Heav'n is in her And joys which I must never dream of more I weep 't is true But Machiavel I swear They 're Tears of Vengeance drops of liquid fire So Marble weeps when Flames surround the Quarry And the pil'd Oaks spout forth such scalding Bubbles Before the general blaze for that she dies Though clinging to the Altar Guâ—rdian Gods Though starting from their Shrines shall not redeem her Mach. Pretend to night nor is it bare pretence For as I hear the Sinigallian Victors Come on to wait you here Pretend to her To Bellamira you can scarce return In forty hours Borg. I will do what I may Mach. Away then Borg. Ha! methinks thou dost not share In my resentment Machiavel as thou ought'st If thou art my Friend and art indeed concern'd Relieve my weari'd fury beat my Vengeance Call up a friendly rage and curse e'm Machiavel Curse these Triumphers o're thy Borgia's ruine Mach. Diseases wait 'em Wherefore should I curse ' em If that my Breath were sulph'rous as the Lightning That murders wiâ—h a blast or like the Vapours The choaking stench which those that die of Plagues Sâ—nd with their parting groans then I would curse â—â—m Wiâ—h Accents â—hat should poyson frâ—m my Tongue Deliver'd strongly through my gnashing Teeth More haâ—sh more horrible â—â—d morâ—
will Ascan. She knows the Cruelties of Caesar Borgia â— Has heard his Rapes and Murders Mercy on meâ— How did he use the poor Veneâ—ian Lady He forc'd her in a Wood nay in a Ditch As I am credibly inform'd by those That heard her squeak in a Dry-Ditch deflowr'd her Add yet to this my Lords How when the French At sacking of a Town broke open Nunneâ—ieâ— He truss'd at least 40 the pretty'st Rogubs The tenderst quaking things never broke upâ— All spotless Maids like 〈◊〉 ne're blown upon Nor touch'd even with the tip of any Finger And kept 'em for â—is Letchery Orsin Methinks my Lord Ascanio my Lord of Millain Or my Lord Cardinal more moderation Would better fit a man of â—our profession I would not come to th◠〈◊〉 Aâ—gument For then we clash Bâ—â—gia is now my Son Therefore I pray â—â—ce more forbear to tax him The Theme is great and worthy that we mention Romania's Duke and Nephew to the Pope Ascan. Prithee old Paul Prithee now ben't so hot Good Reverend Gray-beard if you 'l name his Greatness Pronounce him right ev'n as his Holiness Has own'd him to the World without a blush His natural Son his Nephew or his By blow that is In short old Paul his down right Bastard Orsin Without a blush should I stand up the Champion Of absent Borgia and unravel thee I tell thee Priest thou scandal to the Altar Thy Front thy Eyes thy Lips each part of thee Would blush with Scarlet deeper than thy Robe Ascan. Peace Dotard peace I say old stuttering Paul thou 'lt ha' â—he worst on 't Therefore peace peace Dotard Orsin Ha! Vitel. Forbear my Lord Remember Orsin How dares he thus provoke me Who knows yet urges me knows in his heart How I have pierc'd into his deepest thoughts Have had intelligence of all his Vices Ev'n of his closest darkest Deeds of Lust And dar'st thou call me Dotard Saucy Churchmanâ— Thou that gav'st Whores Indulgences foâ— Sin So rank that he frequents the Common Stews For a new Face would give his Scarlet Coat To make the Strumpet fine Oliv. My Lord Consider where to whom of whom And what it is you utter Orsin Place me some Power Upon Saint Peter's Vane the very Ball And turn my Voice to Thunder that I may Lay open to the World the Hellish Acts Of this Contagious Prelate Ascan. Spit spit thy Venom nay nay let him out with 't Mark how he shakes now by my Holyâ—Dame I have nettled him Poor Paul I Pitty the old Fool Orsin Then Priest let me demand thee Is noâ— the Cupping-glass that burns thy Lust And draws thy rising Gall to such a Blister My Daughter's scorn and loathing of thy person Ha! is 't not that I think I 've stung you Cardinal Worse than the Neapolitan Pox you gave Our Roman Harlots Ascan. Why how now Paul what dost thou grow foul Mouth'd now by my Holy-Dame had I a Sword I 'd firk thee Orsin I 'd so whip thee Paul So flawg and scourge thee thou should'st eat thy words The Pox why how now ha the Pox i'faith The Pox to me let me come at him hah Orsin Ha! wilt thou fight So forward Priest by Heav'n I 'll shave your Crown Stand back and let me mow this Poppy off This rank red Weed that spoils the Churches Corn. Vitel. Did ever fury run to such a height Why my Lord Cardinal know you this place And how 't is priviledg'd Ascan. My Lord I am silenc'd An easie Man made up of patience I No Gall in me give me thy hand Old Paul Henceforth w' are Friends and as a Friend I 'll tell thee Ev'n from my Heart I 'll tell thee what I think Thou art bewitch't Old Paul besotted fool'd This Son-in-Law of thine has seal'd thine Eyes And shortly I shall see thee walk the Streets With a Dog and a Bell nay prithee be not angry For 't is in love I 'll tell thee of a Dotage And so your Servant noble Vitellazzo Anga and Enna yours Farewell my Lord And lastly thine whose Neck is in the Noose Old Woodcock Orsin Exit Cardinal D. Gravin I am not us'd to fear But yet methought Ascanio's last words Were dreadful to my Ears Orsin I have engag'dâ— My Daughter Life and Honour and all my Fortunes For the Duke's Faith and the securityâ— Of every person here why should we doubt him Have we not seen his Labour in this matter Four thousand Duckets given us down in hand With an assurance of our former pay Nay more he binds himself not to constrain Any one of us to appear in person Before him but who pleases of himself Therefore let me intreat you clear your Brains Meet all this day together at the Marriage And pay him as he merits faithful homage Vitel. There 's something here fore-bodes in spite of The Musick that he makes a harsh Conclusion Orsin For shame no more the very fears of Children Because he gives our Friends allowances And honours them with Charges Governments Beyond their Qualities we dread his Dealing And swear he means to draw our Faction from us Vitel. Henceforth say what you will do what you please Since to your Interests I am link'd by Fate I will no more oppose your specious Reasons But instantly go wait upon the Duke Trumpets Orsin This day to add new Honours to the Marriage Our Son-in-Law the Duke Valantinois Receives the Rose before the Consistory A Grace which seldom is vouchsafed to Kings Indeed the greatest which the Sacred Head Of the whole Christian World can give to Man The very highest Round of Humane Glory Scene draws and shews the Consistory Borgia come forward with the Rose carri'd before him in great Pomp. His Son Seraphino led by Alonzo Machiavel Attendants Ascanio and five Cardinals c. Brog O Machiavel was â—ver Pomp like this The Morning dawns with an unwonted Crimson The Flow'rs more od'rous seem the Garden Birds Sing louder and the laughing Sun ascends The gaudy Earth with an unusual brightness All Nature smiles and the whole world is pleas'd Even all the World but thy unhappy Borgia Mach. And why should he who every Man concludes The Darling of the Times whom bounteous Heav'n Has Crown'd with Glory in successful Wars Whom it now doubly Crowns with Beauty too The brightest of her Sex why should he thwart The whole Worlds Vogue and think himself unhappyâ— Borg. Yes Machiavel thou worthi'st of Mankind To thee I 'll strip my Heart that secret Bed With Vices Vertues every naked thought And shew thee all the mixture of a Man We are observ'd Think me not over-frail Because I love were Bellamira dearer Her Father bleeds and all the Rebel-Race I 'll first insnare the Fools then preach Fate to ' em Mach. And let 'em know just as the Cords are drawing None ought to offend his Prince and after trust him Borg. My Lord Orsino O forgive me Heav'n Who have thus grosly fail'd to pay the Reverence
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
Bellamira Yet by the consequence of this affection Thou hast destroy'd my peace of mind for ever Thou hast been ruinous and mortal to mâ— As Robbers Ravishers or Murderers Therefore be gone fly from my Eyes for ever And never let me see Palante more Gand. I go for ever from you aâ— you charge me And for that purpose I did hither come But little thought that you would drive me thus I hop'd at least that when I parted from you And bid you everlastingly farewel I hop'd but oh those flattering hopes were vain That gentle Bellamira should have sigh'd Or dropt a tear when I would take my leave And never see her more Bellam. O Cruelty You rend the Plaister from the bleeding wound Gand. An Elder Brother calâ—s you to his Bed And you perhaps will not be râ—vish'd â—hiâ—her O Bellamira I had once those Vows Which thy frail heaâ—t does now resign to Borgia But I have staid too long Faâ—ewel â—or ever When I am gone and thou for many yâ—ars Enjoy'st the Change thy Father forc'd thee to For sure I cannot think it all thy doing If happy Caesar Borgia chance to fold thee More closely in his arms then was his Custom Say to thy heart with a relenting thought Thus if your Fates had pleas'd the wretched Gandia Would thus have lov'd me But no more farewel You 're pleas'd to banish me and I 'll obey Exituâ—ns Bell. Come back come back you shall not leave me thus Let Fathers Curse and Jealous Husbands Rage Love has a force that can surmount the World Enter Borgia If then 't is destin'd that you must be gone And leave me to the Arms of Câ—uel Borgia Borg. Ha! but observe there may be more in this Bell. If we two Lovers whom â—or tenderness The World can never mâ—tch must part for ever Gand. O that for ever Borg. Iâ—'s Apparition all By Heav'n a Dream I swear a vâ—ry Dream Bell. Yet take O take this dying â—arewel with thee And whomsoe're thy Paâ—sion shall Espouse Remember O Remember thiâ— and lâ—ave me No Man was ever so by Woman lov'd As thou Palante art by Bellamira Gand. Stop theâ—e for to go on will give me Death O! thou hast utter'd Sounds oâ— such a strain As Nature cannot bear like utmost Musick Which while it charms the Sense makes chill the Blood No more for by my glimmering joys I fear Thou 'lt sing my soul to Everlasting Sleep Borg. Then let me wake you Bell. O Heav'ns we are undone Borg. Start not nor weep not beauteous Bellamira For there is nothing toward you but well Fortune her self now smiles on your design And Heav'n and Earth conspire to make you happy These Mourning Habits on your Wedding Day Had chance not guided me to hear your Loves Would have betray'd the secret Gand. O Brother what must I expect I know not Whether I ought to hope or fear Borg. Hope all For curst is he that parts whom Heav'n has joyn'd I stand convinc'd that Love has made you one And may those Chaster Fires that warm your hearts Vie with the Stars for Immortality Gand. Speak it again again confirm this goodness For one so Noble sure this World contains not O! 't is too little but to name him Noble For such a Soul aspires above the Clouds So great Ethereal and so God-like fram'd He must look down on Kings such vast compassion Such an unheard magnificence of Mercy As we must both adore Kneel Bellamira For 't is a God we talk with Borg. O you must not Methinks fair Bellamira who still answers With the accustom'd Language of her Tears Methinks you should have told me all this while Your Beauties were not doom'd for Caesar Borgia 'T is true I often fear'd by your reserv'dness Your Heart must be ingag'd Or thou Palente Had'st thou but told me when I woo'd her first How many sighs and sorrows hadst thou sav'd me I would not then have launch'd but yielded up The Noble Fraight this more than Indian Treasure And given thee all my interest in her Father Gand. Alas I fear'd Borg. I hold you Sir excus'd May you be happy as your Souls can wish But I must beg you from this place retire For your own interest Orsino here Entreated me to wait him and 't is now Upon this day allotted for my Marriage Unfit to break the business of your Loves Yet doubt not O most happy lovely Pair But Care and Time shall perfect all your Wishes Gand. Give me your Arms I had design'd this Morningâ— Made desperate with my griefs t' acquaint your Ear With all the progress of my ruin'd passion I thought that you would storm and use me ill And had design'd I know not what to forfeit My life rather than lose my Bellamira But you have so prevented me Borg. No more How fairest Bellamira not one word Am I ordain'd the Pâ—oxy of your Love Without the Breath of thanks Bell. The bounteous Heav'ns Rain on your head whole Deluges of mercies For this great goodness Hear me oh ye Powers Hear me upon my knees where-e're he goes Guard him with blessings give him his own wisheâ— If to the Wars he pass Renown attend him And growing Conquest dwell upon his Arms Let him attain by a long course of Valour And gallant acts to the old Roman Greatness And when at last in Triumph he returns May all the sighing Virgins strow his way And with new Garlands Crown his coming Glory Ex. with Gandia Enter Machiavel Mach. Something 's discover'd and I guess the business My Lord you 're wanted and the beauteous Bride Borg. I charge thee name her not upon thy life Here tear tear off these unbecoming Garments Get me my Horse and bid my Arms be ready Yes Machiavel with to morrows dawn Thou shalt behold me in another Dress Breathing Defiance to these softer Wars Mach. But why Sir why how comes this sudden change Why have you charg'd me that I should not speak Of Bellamira Borg. Cruel Machiavel Why dost thou bring the fatal Charmer back Whom I would drive for ever from my Soul Mach. This wâ—ndrous alteration of your humour Must sure arise from some as wondrous cause Have you discover'd ought Borg. All all 's discovâ—r'd And such â—n over sight in theeâ— but where Wheâ—e now is thy profound Sagacity Where aâ—l thy Dâ—posiâ—ions Promises Warâ—aâ—ts Ingâ—gâ—ments thâ—t shâ— should be mine Chastly religiously devâ—uâ—ly miâ—e Maâ—h And iâ— she not Borg. By Heav'n quiâ—e opposiâ—e Aâ—l that my boding heart presag'd to thee Bâ—fore haâ— hâ—ppen'd happen'd in such manner As quite out went my own Imagination Mach. Who e're he is that has supplanted you By your just rage he was a sâ—cret Villain The closest Traytor that e're plotted mischief And justly has deserv'd the sâ—ab you gave himâ— Borg. How Machiavel ha didst thou talk of stabbing Mach. I neither think nor know what 's youâ— intenâ—ion But that 's your Countries Custom in such cases Besides Sir when I did
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