make 'em blâ—ze Bella. I 've done my Lord Let me but dry my Eyâ—s and I will wait you To Death or to your Bed Borg. O ill compar'd Be constant Bellamira to thy Vows So shall we shine as in the in-most Heav'n The fixt and brightest Stars with silent glory Where never Storm nor Lightnings flash nor stroak Of Thunder comes but if you fail in ought Then shall we fall like the cast Angels down Never to rise again Therefore I warn thee Bell. Fear not my Lord. Borg. O! I must fear my temper But I will purge it off with resolutionâ— And with a confidence thou wilt be mineâ— For shouldst thou not Hence Gorgon Jealousie Cam'st thou uncall'd to set me on the Rack Be gone I say she 's chaste and I defie thee O plague me Heavenâ— plague me with all the woeâ— That man can suffer root up my possessions Shipwrack my far-sought Ballast in the Haven Fire all my Cities burn my Dukekoms down Let midnight Wolves howl in my Desart Chambers May the Earth yawn shatter the frame of Nature Let the rack'd Orbs in Whirlwinds round me move But save me from the rage of jealous Love Exeunt ACT IV. SCENE I. Soft Musick with an Epithalamium to Borgia and Bellamiraâ— 1 BLush noâ— redder than the Morning Though the Virgins gave you warning Sigh not at the chance befel ye Though they smile and dare not tell ye 2 Maids like Turâ—les love thâ— Cooing Bill and murmur in their Wooing Thus like you they start and tremble And their troubl'd joys dissemble 3 Grasp the pleasure while 't is coming Though your Beauties now are blooming Time at last your joys will sever And they 'l part they 'll part for ever Enter Machiavel and Adorna Mach. SAy'st thou so loving Adorn O! he has got ground Beyond all expectation Had you seen His graceful manner when the sighing Bride Was last night by your Arms given to his Bed When after she was laid quite drown'd in tears How aw'd with trembling he the Curtains drew And kneeling by hâ—r Bed side took her fair hand With which she strove to hide her Blushes from him And sighing swore upon 't if so she pleas'd If her cold heart refuâ—'d him utterly He would forgo his Joys though death ensu'd You muse my Lord. Mach. This day attend my Motion Soon as my purpose hits which you must watch I 'll train the Bridegroom near Palante's Lodgings Whence as you were before by me instructed You with this Letter which from all the Pacquets I chose and notably suits our design Shall issue forth an act as I inspir'd Adorn I fear this business Lest he should kill me in this height of fuâ—y Murder his Brother or his Innocent Lady Mach. I tell thee though a Whirlwind drove him on I 'll make him calm The consequence of this Iâ— thine He drives Palante from the Palace Who else may linger after Bellamira And then thou know'st Adorn I will about it streight If I get clear of this use me no more For I have sworn to cease Mach. Prithee be gone Use me no more For she has sworn to cease Ex. Adorna To dip her Lady â—inger in new mischief Yes thou shalt cease to live when I have us'd thee Poor useless thing But see the Bridegrooms here Enter Borgia My Lord I give you joy your motion gives it Your wondrous gallantry and sprightly action But hâ—s she wholly yielded to your wishes Without the least reserve Borg. Oh! I cannot tell thee ought but this I am happy Above expression blest beyond all hope And sure such perfect joy cannot last long Lest we be Gods O thou great Chymist Nature Who drawst one spirit so sublimely perfect Thou mak'st a Dreg of all the World beside Mach. Why this at first I told you but you fear'd And push'd the blessing from you with both hands I grant you that she lov'd your Brother first I know he 's young and handsom has a Wit Most suitable to Womans inclination A subtle Genius soft and voluble That winds with their discourse and hits the Vein 'T is true you are not of this subtle Mould But if you have enjoy'd her 't is all one My life she loves you so the Act 's resolv'd Leave them to manage O ye know 'em not Those subtle Creatures when necessity Forces compliance in a case like yours Will make the best on 't Borg. How Machiavel the best on 't Ha! how mean'st thou Mach. Why thus she may ev'n Bellamira may Spight of her Fathers will her Vows in Marriage And all her after-Oaths even in your Arms Bestow her self upon the Duke of Gandia Borg. Ha! Mach. I say not pardon me she does or will But to make good my former argument Affirm they may they can they will do thus As for example though your Bellamira Compell'd as all Rome knows to this late Marriage Admits you to her Bed you cannot think But her Palante had been much more welcome Borg. Heav'n Mach. 'T is likely too her Fancy workt that way I urg'd before she took you for Palante 'T is dark she sees you not you are his Brother Form'd in one Womb of the same flesh and blood Therefore she yields as to foreknown Embraces And as you gently draw with trembling arms Her nice Beauties to your heaving Breasts She shuts her eyes with languishing delight And whispers to her heart it is Palante Borg. Cease Machiavel hold as thou lov'st my life I charge thee hold O 't is most true I swear Thou know'st the very depth of Woman-kind They are what thy Imagination paints 'em Charmers and Sorceresses O I 'll tell thee When I the chastest as I thought her thenâ— I am â—ure the sweetest of the Earth imbrac'd 'T was with complainings Machiavel such tremblings I could have sworn her cold as Winter â—â—â—eams But oh the horrours thou hast conjur'd upâ— Soon as soft sleep had seal'd her melting eyes I heard her sigh for till the morn I wak'd Palante Oh what have we done Palante Mach. By Heav'n that was too much Borg. O much much more For stealing nearer me her glowing arm Cast o're my Câ—eek thrice prest me to her Breast Ev'n that coy arm so nicely strange before Familiâ—â— grew and circled in my Neck With all the freedom of acquainted Love And I too piâ—i'd her and thought that Nature Work'd her imperfectly but now I know I find I see it was her hearts design The black contrivance of her blotted Fancy Blood Blood and Death thus has she set me down Through the whole course of her polluted nights To be her Bawd her most industrious Groom The Drudge of her damn'd Lust Palante's stale Mach Are you incens'd indeed or do you Sir Put on this jealous Fit to make you sport For if so small a Spark thus makes you glow A little more will blow you into Flame Therefore be serious in your Answer Borg. Ha! Thou know'st before my Marriage how I fear'd How when my
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
Mothers eat their Brothers and Sisters For half the sum what twenty thousand Crowns Away away Come come pull out his eyes And make a Cupid of the little Bastard I swear thou shalt what twenty thousand Crowns Alonz. My Lord I am Charm'd Enter Machiavel and Adorna Ascan. My good Lord Machiavel Mach. My Noble Lord The humblest of your Servants Ex. Now my Adorna now the time is coming When thou shâ—lt Rival ev'n the Queen of Love For by my life a Bâ—idegroom like Palante Mighâ— match an Empreâ—s But he 's thine no more I 've sworn he 's thine This dâ—y that gives his Brother Thy beauâ—ious Cousin is the Blest Fore-rnnner Of my Adorna's certain happiness Ador. Heav'n only knows the issue of my Faâ—e But did not love and languishing desire Transport me from my self I should endeavour To help the poor desparing Bellamira Not many hours ago she ran upon me With Extasies even crying out â—or joy In spite of Fate Palante shall be mine Then told me all that you discouâ—st but now When on that minuâ—e cruel Borgia entr'd With old Orsino who commanded her I'â—h ' mid'st oâ— prayers and tears and shrinking sorrows Sâ—raâ—t to attend her Husband to the Temple Mach. Excellent And how bears Palante this Adorn So much the worse because quite unexpected And while I told it in most moving termâ— Hâ— struck his Breast and cast his eyes â—o Heav'n Enquir'd for you then â—alkâ— of blood and vanish'd Mach. I have been ever since I came to Rome A Confidâ—nt to both I like the Meâ—hod The Machine mâ—ves exactly to my mind Sails like a Ship well ballast through the Air And ploughs the rising mischiâ—â—s clear before me I 've heard thee often talk of pretty Letters That past between Palanâ—e and thy Cousin Ador. I have 'em all in keeping by her order Mach. Let me peruse ' em Adorn Will you be secret then Mach. Away and fear not they shall make thy Fortune Soon as the Marriage Rites are past we 'll meet Ex. Adorna But lo they come The Duke of Gandia frowns I fear my Caesar and must watch their clashing Scene draws and discovers the Progress of a stately Marriage Ascanio Adrian Enna Cardinals going before Orsino following Bellamira supported by two Virgins in White Borgia follow'd by Vitellozzo Alonzo c. Gand. Sir I must speak with you Borg. 'T is inconvenient Gand. 'T is not our first of Jars Remember Lucrece Our Sister Lucrece and be then parswaded Necessity requires yourea Boâ—g For what Gand. if you dare walk aside with me I 'll tell you Borg. After the Priest Gand. No Sir before the Priest Fate hovers near us you shall give me hearing Borg. What Boy how say'st thou shall Gand. Yes Sir you shall Borg. No more for fear we should be over-heard I 'll instantly return upon my Honour Let me but wait Orâ—â—no to the Gate And I 'll attend thee on my word I will The Priest shall wait till thou have satisfaction Ex. all but Mach. and Gand. Mach. What have you said my Loâ—d Gand. Forebear to know I think thou lov'st me yet a proof were well And since occasion now demands a tryal Refuse not what my Friendship shall enjoyn thee Mach. 'T is granted though the consequence be death Gand. Begon â—his moment leave me to my self Mach. I apprehend Let me imbrace you Why shall I leave you but my word 's ingag'd Call all those pow'rful provocaâ—ions upâ— Your wrongs your most ignoble injuâ—ies To steel your aâ—m and dye your Vicâ—ory In blood I go because you grow impatient No more but Conquâ—st Death or Bellamira Yet I must watch you hereabouts For Borgia Though skill'd and gallant yet may meet his Death And that I must prevent for I 'll allow no stroke To Chance though my undaunted Hero dares all That Man can dare Ex. Mach. Gand. Why comes he not I know he 's brave Renown'd in Foreign Wars And to his skill in Arms has such a Courage As makes a rash man run upon his ruine Yet in his height of fury I can dare him My blood defies him mortally to death Yes Machiavel I 'll take thy fatal counsel The word is Conquest Death or Bellamira Enter Borgia Borg. So Sir you see I have obey'd your Summons You must be satisfi'd though Beauty stays Though the Bride stays though Bellamira stays That is tho Heav'n with all its waiting glories Stops at your call and stands to give you hearing Gand. Y'have us'd me basely Borg. No. Gand. I say you have Without a provocation Borg. That were base Indeed when unprovok'd I do a wrong May I when justly urg'd want due revenge Gand. Y'have falsifi'd your word betray'd me basely Betray'd a Brother O my Stars a Brother That would have burst through all the bars of death And yeilded all things to you but his Love O foolish eyes but these are your last tears And I must mend your course with blood Borg. He weeps Was ever seen Hypocrisie like this Aside O thou young impudent and blooming lyar Who like our Curtezans are early practis'd And in their Nonage taught the Arts of Vice But I forgo my temper Is this all You know I am in haste and cannot brook A longer Conference Gand. I know you cannot But I shall force you yes thou Tyrant Brother Thou that art fallen from all the height of glory To the low practice of the worst of Slaves I will revenge the honour thou hast lost Nor shalt thou pass to Bellamira's Arms Till through my heart thou cutt'st thy horrid way Draw then Borg. I will not Gand. By Revenge and Fury Thou shalt not pass but on my Rapiers point Borg. Think not thou youâ—g Practitioner in Arms That all thy force thou levell'd at me naked Should stop me if I once resolv'd my way But I am calm and wish thee for thy safety To let me pass Thou talk'st awhile ago Of Lucrece but no more of that my Father O fear'd I not his Thunder which so oft Has menac'd me if e're I rose against thee Long long e're this had'st thou been dust even now For that abuse which late thou gav'st my ear For that abhorr'd Conception of my Sister For that damn'd mention by the lowest Hell And by the burning Friends thou should'st be Ashes Gand. Blush not nor purse thy threatning Brow but draw And dare not to despise the weakest arm That trickles with Justice Yes upon thy breast Elate and haughty as thou carriest it I doubt not but my Sword shall write thee Traytor Borg. No more O tâ—at I had Some one Renown'd and winter'd as my self T' encounter like an Oak the rooting Storm But thou art weak and to the Earth wilt bend With my least blast thy Head of Blossoms down If by thy hand I fall as who e're div'd So deep in Fate but sometimes was deceiv'd I do bequeath thee more than all my Dukedoms Far more indeed than Worlds my beauteous Bride But if
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
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
his War-like Bosom And turning him new bent for Arms and Gloryâ— Ha! What new Scene of Gallantry is thiâ— Whence and from whom comes this Magnificence And wherefore kneel these Offerers at my Feet Alonz. They are the Children of the new-found World The Forms of Zâ—mâ—s call'd the Indian Gods Mach. Away with 'em and bid 'em tell their Lord Machiavel's Virtue never shall be brib'd And for their service give 'em twenty Crowns But if thou darest to rob 'em of a Spangle You know my humour never see me more Alonz. Doubt not my Lord but I 'll observe your humour Come in my Lord I told you he would melt Sir the great Cardinal So now they cringe What and embrace too Oh thou damn'd damn'd World These will be heard and make your Statesman smile When Orphans Widows and the crippled Souldiers Are Elbow'd off and thrust away in frowns Exit with the Boysâ— Mach. My Lord you make me wonder Sure you 've been In love your self with old Orsino's Daughter Ascan. Lov'd her my Lord witness these falling tears Why do you thaw my Nature with your Questions Witness bright Stars witness you golden Planetsâ— And all ye Woods and all ye purling Streams And Birds and Flocks and Grots and Rocks and Flow'rs Nay Sir I tell you she was mine betroth'd If I could cast my Coat which had been done For nothing tickles the present Pope like Gold Dazâ—es him that he weeps Indulgences Forgives absolves all for Omnipotent Gold Dispenses Pardons sometimes in a fury He sends his Bulls abroad that roar like Thunder When strait a golden Calm Comes o're their backs and then they 're still as Lambs Why should I hold you long amongst the rest That saw her Borgia that unlucky Bastard Beheld and lov'd her I my Lord was ruin'd Mach. My Lord I wish the Marriage may not prosperâ— He 's bent to enjoy her and in that I sooth him For subtly offering once to bring him off I found pale anger in his Face like Death Whereon I feign'd compliance and have wrought The business to a head But let time work And rest assur'd that what so mean a man As Machiavel with honour can perform To pay you perfect Service shall be done Ascan. My Lord farewel when I protest and swear Ev'n by the Altar of fair Bellamira My life is yours Believe I am your Servant Not a step further by my Robe your Captive Your Eminence most humble Creature Servant Slave Ex. Ascanio Mach. I am ty'd for ever Walking No dull Buffoon thou walking lump of Lust Not to revenge thy ungor'd appetite Shall Borgia kill her But for his own Renown He is my Champion-prince Italian Tyrant Not form'd to languish in a Womans Arms. Oh 't is a fault were I so fram'd for greatness E're I would amble in a Female Court And cringe and skip and play the Ladies Cripple I would be Gibbetted i' th' Common-way For Crows and Daws to peck my Carrion Limbs But I must rouze him and I 'll do 't by Death Ev'n by the bloody Death of her he doats on Enter Adorna Here 's one Ingredient I must mix to make The potion Death The Wretch is deep in Love With Borgia's Brother the young Duke of Gandia That way I make her sure Ador. My Lord. Mach. My dear Adorna How goes the marriage forward and how treats The gallant Borgia great Valentinois Romania's Duke his fair and Virgin Bride Ador. The Rites are to be solemniz'd this morning Tho' Bellamira quite abhors the Marriage Who still when Borgia humbly sues for Love Answers him with her Tears and pays his Vows With Ominous weeping Mach. And how takes he that Ador. He walks and muses deeply speaks to no man But Paul Orsino whose most watchful wit I fear descries where she has lockt her heart With a bent brow he eyes the Duke of Gandia Salutes him not of late He came this morning Into her Chamber dreadful was his action Unworthy of my blood he thundred out But if the generous Borgia is refus'd Think not of Gandia but of blood and death Mach. What inauspicious Chance discovered to him A secreâ— which I thought concealâ—d from all But thee and me and those unhappy Lovers Ador. I cannot guess he paus'd a while then sigh'd And starting up in fury charg'd her rise Receive he cry'd receive him as a Husband Whom the selected vertues of thy Sex Can ne're deserve adorn thee like a Bride And meet him tho thy Treacherous heart is Mortgag'd Meet him at least with well dissembled Love Or by my hopes I 'll wreke my anger on thee With all the Torments that Italian Fury Could e're invent for an Adulterous Wretchâ— He cry'd I will and after make thee nothing Mach. Haste thee away charm with thy utmost skill The mourning Bellamira to obey him The knot once ty'd Gandia will soon despair Leave me to work him then Millions to one But I shall make him thine Ador. But did Duke of Gandia once protest Mach. Protest He did protest and swear and vow Go go and haste for the day grows upon us Ex. Adornaâ— His Brother too this Duke of Gandia bleeds For he is grown of late the Romans darling Warm'd in the very Bosom of the Pope And dearer than my Borgia to his Sister The famous Lucrece who can charm her Father In all the heat of Excommunications When he throws Bulls like Thunderbolts about him She like a Venus to his angry Iove Moves with incestuouâ— Fires folds her white arm About his chafing Neck strokes his black Beard And smooths his furrow'd Cheeks to dimpled smiles The Brothers too enjoy'd her O Heav'n and Earthâ— Not the first day after such infinite time That Motion had th' irregular matter rowl'd When all the wandring Atoms hit at last Into this beauteous form even when our Sires First mingled was there such a loose of Nature Such a triumvirate of Lawless Lovers Such Rivals as out-do even Lucian's Gods Ha! the Orsini here and the Vitâ—lli They move this way in murmuring Cabals Methinks Death darkenâ— every Visâ—ge there 'T is so They are no more Or this is true Or Machiavel knows nothing of Man-kind Ex. Mach. Enter Orsino Viâ—ellozzo Ascanio Adrian Enna Ange three Cardinals Oliverotto Gravina Vitel. I say agen I do not like the Marriage Were Bellamira mine I 'd sell her off For Gold I 'd merchandize her tender beauty With Infidels and send her to the Turk Like an Andromada to gorge the Monster Rather than to wed her to perfidious Borgia Orsin You are too violent Vital I think not so A drowning man will grasp at any thing Nay sink his Friend that leap'd among the Waves To give him life but yon tho in the gulph Ride on to ruine tho your Friends call out Ang. Nay though they point the Whirle-pool just before you That would devour us all Adrian Besides 't is Impious Against all Right of Nature Law of Reason To act the Tyrant o're a Daughters
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
but another shrug And then this Love this Ague Fit is lost Borg. I swear I 'll to the Wars and ne're return To Rome till I have brav'd this haughty French-man That menac'd so of late Mach. Why this is Borgia Come come you must not droop look up my Lord Methinks I see you Crown'd Rome's Emperour No doubt Sir but among your glorious Plunder You 'll find some Woman Borg. Ha! no more I charge thee I swear I was at ease and had forgot her Why did'st thou wake me then to turn me wild And rouze the slumbering Orders of my Soul To my charm'd Ears no more of Woman tell Name not a Woman and I shall be well Like a poor Lunatick that makes his moan And for a time beguiles the lookers on He reasons well his eyes their wildness lose And vows the Keepers his wrong'd sense abuse But if you hit the cause that hurt his Brain Then his teeth gnash he foams he shakes his Chain His Eye balls rowl and he is mad again Exeunt Enter one Executioner with a dark Lanthorn follow'd by another at a distance they part often look up and down and hem to the rest 1. Exec. The Coast is clear and all the Guards are gone 2. Exec. Hark hark what noise was that 1. Exec. The Clock struck three 2. Exec. See the Moon shines haste and call our Fellowsâ— Hem to 'em that 's the Sign 1. Exec. They come they come Enter Four Executioners more Two carry the Body of the Duke of Gandia in a Chair the others follow and scout behind 3. Exec. So set him down and let 'em beaâ— their part For I am weary 4. Exec. And so am I I sweat but 't is with fear 1. Exec. Make no more words on 't take him from the Chair 2. Exec. A ghastly sight The Weight about his Neck Has bent him almost double I 'll not touch him 3. Exec. Cowardly Villain Come my Princely Master The Fishes want their Break fast 4. Exec. Joyn all together And hurl him o're this Wall into the Tyber 2. Exec. Fly fly I hear a noise The Guards the Guards 3. Exec. He lies he lies the Coynage of his fears Once more I say joyn all your hands together Remember the Reward two thousand Crowns A Man but for that Milk-sop I suspect him Therefore let 's watch our time decoy him on And when this business is a little o're Strangle him in some Corner lest he prate Of what is done Now now 's the time away They joyn all together take him by the Legs and Arms and hurl him over the Wall into the Tyber A noise is heard as of a Body falling into the Water They look about once more then start take â—p the Chair and run out Scene shuts SCENE II. Enter Borgia and Machiavel Mach. Though Orsini the Vitelli and Colonni Are hush'd the Spaniard and the French no doubt Would buy your Friendship at the dearest rate Nay more I yield you Lord of Tuscany And Master of such Forces as might march Against the haughtiest Power of Christendom But Prince forgive me if I am too free Do you remember whence this glory comes And how this Golden Fortune is deriv'd The Pope from that rich scource these Currents rowl And when another Pope succeeds who knows But he may strip you bare of all those Honours Which this has given and turn you to the World Borg. No Machiavâ—l I am prepar'd for Fate Though Alexander should expire to night First who is left of all the Families I have defac'd if a new Pope were made To say I wrong'd 'em none that I remember 'T is not my way to lop for then the Tree May sprout again but root him and he lies Never to bluster But I will tell thee Quite to unhinge that hold no Pope shall e're Be fix'd in Rome while Borgia is alive But by this hand The Gentry are all mine For ever gain'd by Presents and Preferments The Spanish Cardinals are mine devoted With all that are conspicuous in the College What then can Fortune do I laugh at her Spurn all those Shrines and Altars which weak Wretches Hero's and Fools devoutly raise to gain her Mach. Yet hear me Boâ—gia hear the oddest story That ever Melancholly told the World This morning being early in the Vatican Far in the Library at the upper end Methought I saw two stately Humane Forms Lying at a distance wrapt in Linen Shrouds Approaching nearer with a stedfast gaze As now I look upon the Prince I honour I saw the Figure of the Pope your Father Stretcht on the Floor pale ghastly cold and dead And by his side with horrour upon horrour And double tremblings saw my Lord your self My very Caesar like a new-laid Ghost Swoln black and bloated while your inclos'd eyes All blood-shot fixt on mine their dreadful beams Borg. Fumes fumes my Machiavel the effects of phlegm Gross humors fumes which from thy thicker blood Stream up like Vapours from a foggy pool Mach. I am apt to think it but a leap of fancy A jading of the mind which quite tired out With thoughts eternal toil strikes from the road Yet as you prize your life let me conjure you Beware Ascanio his long red Coat Hides a most mortal and inveterate Foe Borg. I know him Machiavel and sooth him on As he would me But Borgia does assure thee That he that scarlet poisonous Luxury With his adherent Brothers shall this night Even in the midst of Kisses Oaths Embraces Buâ—st in the Vatican and shed their Venom Mach. Your Fathâ—r is a Master of his breast The occasion gives new life fresh vigour to him Even at the very verge of bottomless death He stands and smiles as careless and undaunted As wanton swimmers on a Rivers brink Laugh at the rapid stream Borg. Therefore my Friend Let us despise this Torrent of the World Fortune I mean and dam her up with Fences Banks Bulworks all the Fortresses which Vertue Resolv'd and man'd like ours can raise against her That if she does o're-flow she may at least Bâ—ing but half Ruine to our great designs Tâ—at being at last asham'd oâ— her own weakness Like a lowâ—bated flood she may retire To her own bounds and we with pride o're-look her Enter Don Michael and the Butler D. Mich. My Lord your Servant waits as you appointed Borg. Are my Provisions come Butl. They are my Lord. Borg. Do you râ—member what I gave in charge Butl. That none should touch the gilded flask of wine Borg. I charge thee none but such as I shall order Don Michael is my Father yet arriv'd D. Mich. He is my Lord and gone Borg. Sâ—y'st thou D. Mich. When first he enter'd quite o'â—ecome with heat Thirsting and faint with the hot seasons rage He call'd for wine and tho disswaded from it Drank largely mingled with the Cardinals And walk'd and laugh'd play'd with Columbus Boys Heaâ—d their rude Musick and beheld 'em dance When on a sudden
starting up he ask'd For you my Lord bow'd as his Custom is With deep humility to all desir'd 'em To sit and so went out but with a promise Of a most quick return Scene draws and discovers a Chair of state under a Canopy a large Table with a rich Banquet and many Candles on 't Enter Ascanio Adrian Enna Ange two Cardinals more Ascan. My Lord the Vatican Society Who were oblig'd to sacrifice this night As every looser Genius should inspire To Air and Wine and warmer Conversation Grow dull for want of you His Holiness Himselfs retir'd Therefore let us entreat you Borg. O my good Lord Ascanio I am born To be at your Command My Lords I wait you Sirrah remember him I charge thee fill Of the gilt Flask to him Butl. My Lord I shall This Wine is sure the richest of the World Bâ—cause he charges me so strictly of it That Cardinal 's a Friend and he must taste it Ascan. Lord Machiavel you have been charitable I thank your love Nâ—y with my life I thank you Mach. My Lord I wish you would explain your self Ascan. It needs not Sir for this the meanest know The Rabble base Mechanicks talk of murders I saw a sweating Weaver in his Shirt Ran puffing with his Shuttle in his hand To ask a Neighbour Butcher of the news Who with his Knife in 's mouâ—h abruptly tells Orsino's death yes and his Daughters too Then comes a Taylor with his hair tuck'd back Behind his ears on tiptoes in his Slippers And crys in haste the Duke of Gandia's murder'd Then spits upon his Iron cast up his eyes Thâ—eads through the company as 't were a Needle And vanishes no more my Lord I thank you Nay by my life but for the Company I 'd kiss the bottom of your Robe your Lordships ever Your Highness servant My Lord let 's drink a Health to His Holiness But in my heart I say the Devil take him Borg. Lord Machiavel you are my Guest to night Were â—he Society made up of Gods As sure it is of Saints Spirits above The common Elevation yet this man I say my Lords this Human Prodigy Would not be set to wait but fix'd among 'em To dazle with the brightest being here Wine there My Lord Ascanio Sforza Health to all here and to the general joy Drinks Ascan. Fine work my Lords fine work I say look to 't The Duke of Gandia's murder'd Adrian 'T is the common rumour Ennn. The Pope this morning in the Consistory When first he heard the News leap'd from his Throne Crossing his Breast and looking up to Heav'n He vow'd hereafter most severe amendment As from this time to fast for Forty hours And all his life wear next his humble flesh A Shirt of Hair Ascan. A Shirt of Hair bating Lucretian nights She 'll not endur 't look you her skin 's too tender A Shirt of Hair a very prickling Penance Now by my Holy-dame meer Letchery Don't I know him Slave more Wine I say Fill up my Glass Come come my Lords 't is time To look about us and reform the Church Drinks Prune it I say or else like Babylon Like Babel's Whore 't will run up all to seed Hark you Lord Ange. Ang. My Lord. Ascan. My Lord of Enna too we four are As one Soul This Pope's a very leud And wicked Head he 's never well but When he 's plotting Murders Why look you Sirs If a Man cannot speak his mind of State Affairs but he must streight be Dogg'd by Hell-hounds Blood-suckers Decoyers Rascals that watch to throttle him in some By-corner then quoit him like a Cat into The River 't is very fine Now by my Holy-dame It may be our turn next by the Mass it may I say my Lord it may The Indian Boys dance Ha my Lords how do you Like the motion Very pretty very fine O brave Columbus More Wine there a bigger Glass I 'll drink Columbus's health Now by my Holy-dame I am frolicksome and will be active Ha my Lords ha I learnt at Paris when I was A Stripling yet these are pretty Children very fine Boys Enter D. Michael D. Mich. My Lord I gâ—ieve to bring you Mortal News Which were I silent yet in some few Minutes Must wound your Ears your Father 's dead Borg. Hence Raven Thou Boder of the blackest deed of Death My Lords this Villain says the Pope's dead Went he not hence but now sound firm and healthful And promis'd to return D. Mich. My Lord he did But 't is most certain e're he went from hence As all our best Physitians give an Oath He was by some pernicious Traytor poyson'd Borg. O Machiavâ—l where is our forecast now My heart misgives me and my bosom 's hot Who ministred who gave my Father Wine D. Mich. Your Servant for when first your Father enter'd His own Provisions were not come Borg. O Confusion Answer me Villain ha fill'd you his Wine Butl. My Lord I did Borg. What from the gilded Flask why dost thou tremble Horrour consume thee gnaw thee burn thy Entrails Wilt thou not speak Butl. My Lord by your strict Charge That none should taste those Flasks but whom you order'd I judg'd the Wine most Excellent and gave Part of it to your Father Borg. O damn'd Dolt Curst sensless Dog Now Machiavel where are we Ha! by the Furies that invade my Breast And crumble all my Bowels into dust I am caught my self Speak tell me horrid Villain Or I will have thee dragg'd in Thousand Pieces Torn by mad Horses like the flesh of Dogs Thou gav'st me Wine too from the gilded Flasks ha Traytorâ— Come double damn thy self and swear thou did'st not Butl. My Lord I must confess I gave the same To you that was directed for your Friend My Lord Ascanio Borg. Take thy reward then which the Devil thou pour'st Into my Breast thus gives thee back again O Machiavâ—l O do not look upon me I am below thy scorn thus vile caught O basely basely sold by my own wild Ascan. Oh oh oh I have my share on 't too the Devil Thank you Fire fire fire oh my Guts brimstone And fire haste there fly for Antidotes Borg. None none on Earth I â—ell thee Priest can save thy rotten Carkass No Cardinal lye down lye down and roar Think on thy Scarlet sins and fear Damnation Ascan. Legions of Furies here Hell is broke loose And all the Devils are quarter'd in my Bowels Run Slave and for a last revenge produce His mangled Bastard â—hat's some pleasure yet Borg. O Machiavel thy hand I am all flames Yet thou shalt hear no noise sit down my Friend Upon the Earth for there 's my Mansion now Dust and no more and yet methinks 't was hard That this Elaborate Scheme of mighty Man This Parchment where the Lines of Roman greatness By thee so well were drawn should by the hand Of scribling Chance be blotted thus for ever Ascan. I burn I burn I toste I roste