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
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
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
spread at their full length Enter Alonzo and Don Michael D. Mich. ARE these the Presents say'st thou of the late New Cardinal Ascanio Sforza Alonz. They are he offers thus to Machiavel And thinks that Gold may bribe him to betray The Duke Valentinois But Michael tell me What does the World report of this Creation Does it not rail and gâ—in and bite the Pope D. Mich. Has it not Reason For betwixt our selves Would any man in his high Dignity So vilely sell the Glories of the Church Twelve Cardinals at once created Ascanio first because he bids him most A fine effeminate Villain bred in Brothels Senseless illiterate the Jear of Rome A blot to the whole See! One fitter far For Hospitals that paints and patches up A wretched Carkass worried in the Stews But see the gaudy Pageant moves this way How spruce he looks and with a Pocked Glass Surveys the gloating Image Alonz. All Luxury I heard the night succeeding his Creation That he got drunk and kiss'd the Prelates round For joy But see he comes retire and leave me Ex. D. Mich. Enter Ascanio Sforza Ascan. Well Borgiâ— well if I am not reveng'd Was there none else in Rome but Bellamira Ah Bella Bella Bella Bella Bellamira I saw her first at Mass as I remember Cherubin and Seraphin were nothing to her Oh such a skin full of alluring flesh Ah such a ruddy moist and pouting Lip Such Dimples and such Eyes such melting Eyes Blacker than Sloes and yet they sparkl'd fire Then such a way she had to roul 'em round As thus and thus a thousand amorous ways And wink and gloat and turn 'em to the corners Alonz. My Noble Lord Ascan. My dear my dear Alonz Nay let me greet thee 't was the Father's Custom But tell me lovely dear Alonzo tell me Thou hast the softest fine Complexion for A Lover best take heed of walking late Tell me I say or I will pinch thy Cheek Moves he this way or does he teem alone With some state Birth if so I 'll wait agen Alonz. Whom does your Eminence intend Ascan. Thy Lord Whom should I mean intend or think of else Thy Lord and mine Well he 's an Oracle intend Why man I dream of nothing else Alonz. But Wenches Ascan. O Machiavel there there 's a word a sound An Air a blast a Thunder-clap of wit To rouse our Foggy thick-scull'd Cardinals I 'll say no more Would he were Popâ— Head of the Christian World and I his Engine His particular member to bring to cast To throw disperse convey the warmest Sprinklings of his benediction Alonz. My Lord I humbly offer'd your Address While with an eye swift as the Sun and piercing He ran your Letter o're and sure it stirr'd him For strait he turn'd and darting me he ask'd If the great Cardinal meaning you my Lord Which shews the deep respect he bears your Person Knew not that Borgia was his best of Friends Borgia he cry'd again to whom the Lords Of Florence sent me their Ambassadour With promis'd aid against the Rebel Orsins Ascan. Has he receiv'd stay I say has he here Open thy Fist now gripe me fast and tell me Alonz. I durst not name your Presents But bowing soon retir'd and plac'd em here That as he follows he may view at once All your Magnificence if ought of Earth His temper holds this lightning will dissolve it But see He comes be pleas'd Sir to retire And you shall hear the Zeal with which I serve you Enter Machiavel Mach. Thus have I drawn the platform of their Fates As oft I have beheld by Masters hands A Tale in painting admirably told Here a soft Dido stabb'd into the breast A Hero there thrown headlong from a Window To meet her Lover wrack'd upon the Shore So have I form'd in more than Brass or Marble The Deaths of those whom I intend to hush O Caesar Borgia such a Name and Nature That is my second self a Machiavel A Prince who by the vigor of this brain Shall rise to the old height of Roman Tyrants Alonz. He deeply thinks nor dare I interrupt him Till he comes forward Ascan. Peace and give him way Oh such a Head-pieceâ—â— Mach. In all my strict enquiries all the Humours Which I have drain'd with more than Chymists pains I have not found a temper so compleat To finish forth a greatness as my Caesar's First he 's a Bastard got in a fit of Nature She shook him from her Nerves in a Convulsion His Father stampt the Bullion in a heat And taking from the Mint the fiery ore His Image blest and cry'd it is my own Yet more a Priest begot him and 't is thought That Earth is more oblig'd to Priests for Bodies Than Heav'n for Souls nay and a young Priest too Perhaps in the Embraces of a Nun Who ventur'd life to clasp the lusty joy Ascan. Oh if a man could but hear him now Brain all brain Alas Alonzo we are stuff to him Meer Entrails but the Guts of Government Nothing to him hark he goes on Mach. Why what a start of Nature is this man Whom by Ambition not by Love I 'll raise Therefore Ascanio's new golden World I gravely take for ruine to the Bride To her old doting Father Broâ—hers Uncles And the whole Race of Orsin and Viâ—elli Is sixt by Fate and me No more the fleeâ—ing Air May catch the sounds and walls themselves have ears Alonz. My Lord the Cardinal Ascanio coming 〈◊〉 bowing Is planted to your order Mach. Let him hear us Urge me no more for â—is impossibleâ— Alonz. My Lord he thinks not so He says your Voice is as the mouth of Heav'n Stiles you a God and in the extravagance Of his unbounded admiration swears Nothing to you can be impossible Mach. Extravagance indeed Yet such extravagance expresses love And merits all my thâ—nks and had he mention'd Ought but the ruine of my best Friends I would with all the Wings of expedition Have shot through 1â—00 bars to do him service Alonz. My Lord he does not hint at Borgia's ruine Mach. Does he not wish that I should break the Nuptials 'T is sure the Marriage I at first dislik'd I pierc'd â—he Charmer with a narrow eye And found how Wit and Beauty threatn'd in her With all the subtlest graces that might â—ull Stubborn ambition to inglorious rest But love already had perform'd his part And laid the Warring Borgia at her Feet How then should I oppose his first Enjoyment Who was his Legate and sollicited The Parents of the beauteous Bellamira Alonz. At least Sir for the future lay some block That may disturb the progress of their loves And since you have alledg'd 't is for his glory This Marriage were undone since it is done Let it be hurtful in the consequence Mach. Thus I should prove indeed a Friend to Florence Who hate Orsino's Race Nay I should act The truest Part of Friendship to my Borgia Snatching this Soft'ner from
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
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
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
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
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