ouâ—ragious Than Envy in her Cave or Mad-men in their Dens Borg. Excellent Machiavel more more to lull me Mach. My Tongue should stammer in my earnest wordâ— My eyes should spaâ—kle like the beaten Flint Borg. This hoary Hair should start and stand an end And all thy shaking joynts should seem to curse ' em Mach. Nay since you urge me Sir my heart will break Unless I curse ' em Poyson be their drink Borg. Gall and Wormwood Hemlock Hemlock quench ' em Mach. Their sweetest Shade a Dell of duâ—kish Adders Borg. Their fairest Prospect Fields of Basilisks Their softest touch as smart as Vipers Teeth Mach. Their Musick horrid as the hiss of Dragons All the foul terrors of dark-seated Hell Borg. No more thou art one piece with me my self And now I take a pride in my revenge Mach. You bid me ban and will you bid me cease Now by your wrongs that turn my heart to steel Well could I curse away a Winters night Though standing naked on a Mountains top And think it but a minute spent in sport Borg. Thou best of Friends come to my Arms my Brother But the time calls and Vengeâ—nce bids us part Henceforth be thou the Mistress of my Heart Ex. Mach. Now it grows ripe the Orsins and Vitelli Are buri'd by my Wit without a noâ—se O! 't is the safer course for threats are dang'rous But there 's no danger in the Execution For he thaâ—'s dead ne're thinks upon revenge Whaâ— hoa Alonzo Enter Alonzo Alonz. Here my Lord. Mach. Are the Gloves brought I sent to the Perfumers Alonz. They are Mach. Where is Adorna Alonz. She waits without Mach. As you see her enter Bring me the Gloves 'T were easie strangling her But this is quainter O my bright Adorna Enter Adorna With confidence I swear the Duke is thine Adorn May I believe it Mach. Be judge thy self whether I have been idle These were a Present from the King of Spain To the Pope's Niece of whom the fond young Duke Begg'd 'em for thee Adorn Is 't possible Mach. Stay Madam we must change One Present for another Lend me the Key To Bâ—llamira's Chamber Adorn For what Mach. Nay if we baâ—ter words Adorn Here here my Lord. Now give me the dear Present See see my Lord they are emboss'd with Jewels And cast so rich an Odour they o'recome me Help me my Lord O help me lend your Arm The Earth turns round with me O mercy Heaven Dyâ—sâ— Mach. Remove the Body Then haste and find the Duke of Gandia out E're he removes as he intends to night Having Commission from the Pope to lead Th' Italian Armies earnestly entreat him To honour me by making one last Visit Which equally imports him as his life Enter Borgia and Bellamira Borg. Upon the instant Fairest I must leave you The Lord of Firmo with the Duke your Unclâ— Have taken Sinigallia by surprize What else but meeting thy Victorious Kinsmen Should draw me from thy Arms yet thus divided But for a day or two methinks I part As Souls are sever'd from their warmer Mansions To wander in the bleak and desart Air. O Bellamira Bell. Why do you sigh my Lord If 't is your pleasure let 'em wait you here Or if my Presence can dispel these Clouds That make you say I will attend you â—hither For while life lasts I will be all obedience Borg. Could'st thou hold there how might we laugh at Fate So kindled both by Love and by Ambition How would I sweep like Tempests with a waste Over all Italy and Crown the Empress Here in the Heart of Rome my bright Angusta But 't is impossible Bell. Then you conclude my Lord I am not true Borg. Why art thou Is there such a thing in Nature As a true Wife No Bellamira no Thou would'st be monstrous then ev'n to derision For the whole Flock of common Wives would whoot thee And drive thee like a Bird without one Feather Of thy own kind Bell. Once more upon my knees In view of all the Hierarchy of Heav'n I here attend my spotless Innocence Borg. Still Machiavel still let us keep to death Our Principle that we are dust when dead For were there any Hell or any Devil But hot enough to make an Exhortation Would he not fetch her now would he not dam her I do believe thee guiltless Therefore rise But since thou art so confidently clear Swear Bellamira if I prove thee false What e're I threat nay though I put in act Those Menaces thou wilt not call me Tyrant Bell. I swear by Heav'n I will submit my life To the severest stroke of your revenge Borg. If then I prove thee false O Bellamira Not that Celestial Copy ev'n thy Face Shall scape but I will race the Draught as if It ne're had been the pattern of the Gods Bell. Act what you please but speak no more my Lord For every word 's a bolt and strikes me dead Borg. If thou art false and if I prove thee so That skin of thine that matchless West of Heav'n Which some more curious Angel cast about thee Will I tear off though cleaving to the Shrine Bell. Speak to him Machiavel O fatal Marriage Borg. If thou dost play me false think not of mercy Thy Father shall be burnt before thy eyes Bell. O horrid thought Borg. Thy Uncles Brothers Sisters All that have any relish of thy blood I 'll rack to death and throw their Limbs before thee Therefore look to 't beware if thou art false I 'll take thee unprepar'd and sink thy Soul Therefore I say again beware I 've warn'd thee Body and Soul ev'n everlasting ruine For so may Heav'n have mercy upon mine At my last gasp as I 'll have none on thine Exit Bell. O 't is too plain I am lost undone for ever What but one Night ev'n the first Nuptial Night So sought so courted and so hardly won And the next day nay the succâ—eding Morâ— To be us'd thus Let me go let me go For I 'll proclaim him throuâ—h the streets of Rome The Tâ—aytor Moâ—ster O I could shake the world With thundring forth my wrongs Hollow his Name To the resounding Hills Borgia Traytor Borgia Methinks that word that spell that horrid sound That groan of Air could cleave the neighbouring Rocks And scare the babling Ecchoes from their Dens Mach. Perhaps some busie Slave has whisper'd him I know not what that chafes his melancholy Against your Honour Bell. That 's impossible And I deni'd to admit him to my Bed Some seeming cause some reason for distrust Might then be given but the bright Heav'ns know I had resolv'd to take him for my Lord And love him too or force my inclination So subtly had he wrought by deep dissembling Upon my plain and undiscerning weakness But now he 's gorg'd the Monster shews himself Appears all Beast and I must die he cries Ah Cruelty and all my wretched Race Mach. Madam you know how near a
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
Shall nurse this Brood of Hell to such perfection As shall e're long become the Devil's Manhood But hark the Noise approaches and the time Put 's me in mind of Bellamira's Letters Exiâ— Enter Borgia Belâ—amira Gandia Borg. Furies and Hell yet e're thou dy'st proud Villain Let me demand thee how thou dar'st abuse My Mercy thus Gand. I give thee back the Title And have a heart so well assur'd of Death That I disdain to answer Borg. Dye then Traytor Bella. Hold Borgia hold Hear Bellamira speak Borg. Confusion off and play not thus with Thunder Lest it should blast thee tooâ— Hence off I say Though thou deserv'st a Fate as sharp and sudden I will take leisure in thy death Be gone Bella. Behold I grasp the Dagger draw it through And gash my Veins and tear my Arteries I 'll fix my hand thus to the wounding Blade While life will let me hold and force thee hear me Borg. Say'st ha wilt thou darst thou brave me thus Thus guilty too once more forego my Ponyard Bella. No draw it Cruel let thy Bloody Deeds Be swifter than thy Threats I fear thee not But thus will wound my self or quite disarm thee Now you shall hear me Borg. Is this possible Ha! Borgia where where is thy Fury nowâ— Where thy Revenge O Woman in perfection Thou dazling Mixture of Ten Thousand Circâ—'s In one bright heap cast by some hudling God How dar'st thou venture thus how dar'st thou do this Yet heave thy Breasts pant breathe and think on mâ—rcy Bella. My Acts have shown the care indeed I take To save my life No Prince not for my own I would be heard but for your innocent Brother's Palante Borg. Haâ— Palante Yes I know thee There hangs thy Joy thy Pulse thy Breath and Motion Blood Life and Soul thy Darling-Blessing's here And more than all the joys of Heaven hereafter O World of Horror O Contagion on The Day when first I saw thee Bella. Would you but hear Boâ—g Come off I say tear thy scarf'd wound tear 't up With â—hese diâ—â—â—lling drops come glut thy Eyes Glut 'em with Blood for Borgia's Blood 's thy Joy For say When at the Altar I stood bleeding Speak Tygress barbarous Wretch thou she Palante Did'st thou once ask the occasion of my Wound No I râ—member â—hy uneasie Caâ—riage Hâ—w oâ—â—en thou look'st back with longing Eyes How ofâ— in sâ—cret thou didst curse the Priest The tedious length of whose slow Ceâ—â—monies Keâ—t thee â—rom flying to Palante's Aâ—ms Gand. Farewel my Lord think Bellamira guiltless Aâ—d you shall never see Palante more Borg. Stayâ— Sirâ— come back I know your Wound 's a trouble But the reward I mâ—â—n is worth your waiting Here take him Bellamira clasp him I gâ—ve him thee as our Physicians do Pâ—escribe lâ—st Remedies to save thy life I give him thee to save thy gasping Soul Which would be damn'd wiâ—hout him yet observe Theâ—e is a Deed that must that shall be done Before you laugh and kiss See here my bosom Strike and strike deep deep as Palante burns thee For in thy Heart hot in thy inmost Veins I know the cursâ—d the too lov'd Traytor lies Gand. I do râ—nounce thy name and to the Giver Râ—â—ort it with an equal Indignation Borg. Râ—tort it what Gand. The name of Traytor Borg. Ha! Pâ—ovoke me not lest as I am unarm'd I câ—ush tâ—ee wiâ—h my Handâ— and dash thee Dead Bella. Hold off and hear me noble Borgia hear me Hear me my Loâ—d my Husband hear me kneeling Tâ—ou whom the Heav'ns have destin'd to my Arms Tâ—e câ—nstant Partner of my nicest thoughts Doâ—m'd to my Bed whom I must learn to love Aâ—d wilâ— unless you turn my Heart to Stone Borg. Ha! O! sâ—ch sweet woâ—ds ne're fâ—ll â—rom that fair mouth Bâ—fâ—â—e nor can I trust 'em now Beâ—la If you call back Thâ— Vengeance which your impious Vows let slip I swâ—ar thus sinking on your Feet I swear Never from this sad hour never to see Nor speak no nor if possible to think Of poor Palante more Borg. Go on go on I swear the Wind is turn'd And all those furious and outragious passions Now bend another way Bella. I will hereafter With strictest duty serve you as my Lord And give you signs of such most faithful love That it shall seem as if we languish'd long As if we had been us'd to mingle sighs And from our Cradles interchang'd our Souls As if no breach had ever been betwixt us As if no cruel Father forc'd the Marriage I so resigning as if always yours And you so mild as if no other proof But my dishonour e're could make you angry Borg. O my heart's joy Rise Bellamira rise There 's nothing left nothing of rage to fright thee Thou hast new tun'd me and the trembling strings Of my touch'd heart dance to the Inspiration As if no harshness nor no jars had been Had these sweet sounds but met my entrance here My ghastly fears and cloven jealousies With all the Monsters that made sick my Brain Had fled so soft and artful are thy strains Like fallen Fiends before the Prophets Charms Bella. I came 't is true my Lord to see Palante But thought him on his Death-bed Borg. O no more I do intrest thee mention that no more All 's well and we have mutually forgiven I love thee Bellamira therefore pass This Errour by yes for thy self I love thee To gluâ— my fancy with thy endless Charms And sâ—â—â—ch the pleasures of all Woman-kind Thy fair Repentance and thy graceful Vows Have tuâ—â—'d the â—â—gerness of sworn revenge To furious Wishes for the promis'd Joy Enter Orsino Gand. O blasting sight O death to all my hopâ—â— Life thou art vile and I will wait no â—â—nger Orsin Ha! Traytor Prince why Borgia does he live Who has himself broke all the tyes of blood Where is the leud Adult'ress too my Daughter For I will stab 'em in each others Arms. Borg. Hold Orsino for revenge is now Nâ— more Thy Daughter is most innocent And melts into my Arms. O happy Night Not to the weary Pilgrim half so welcome When after many a weary bleeding step With joyful looks he spies his long'd fâ—r Home See see my Lord the effects of our Vexation Thus comes to the despairing Wretch the glad Repâ—ieve â—Tis Mercy Mercy at the Block Thus the toss'd Seaman after boisterous Storms Lands on his Country's Breast thus stands and gazes And runs it o're with mâ—ny a greedy look Then shouts for joy as I should do and makes The Ecchoing Hills and all the Shoars resound Orsin Now Blessings on thy Heart more Blessings on thee Than on thy Disobedience Curses Take him Girl And lay him to thy heart the warmest Gift That Naâ—uâ—e or thy Father can bestow Gand. Farewel thrice happy Lover never shall This Wretch again disturb youâ— Bellamira O Bellamira Exit Bella. O farewell for ever Borg. Why dost thou weep and pour into my wounds New Oyl to
and my Guts fry They blaze they snap they bounce like Squibs And Crackers I am all fire Mach. Is 't possible that you can bear the pangs Of violent poyson thus unmov'd Borg. 'T is little To one resolv'd No let the Coward Statesman Women and Priests whine at the thoughts of death For me whose mind was ever fierce and active Death is unwelcom only for this reason Because 't is an Eternal laziness Enter Alonzo leading in Seraphino with his Eyes out and Face cut Mach. I must confess my mind by what I saw This morning and by what has happen'd since Is deeply shockt even from her own Foundation Ascan. Bear the blind Bastard to his Father go And bid him laugh oh Mach. Horrour new horrour My Lord your Son by that most bloody Cardinal Mangled and blind Borg. Why dost thou wonder at it 'T is all the work of Chance and trick of Fortune Yet this methinks is horrible indeed Come hither Boy Serap Alas I hear your Voice And cannot find the way But am like one benighted in a Wood. Borg. A Wood indeed But oh the Brambles there have us'd thee vilely Serap O Father you are arm'd and have a Sword Will you not for your Seraphino's sake Cut down those Thorns that prick'd out both my eyes I know you will for you were always kind And tender of me oft-times have you held me Fast in your Arms and smil'd and plaid with me Though you 're a Prince a very busie Prince And call'd me little Eyes little indeed For now they 're out and all my Face is cut Nay they have starv'd me too Borg. Death and horrour Serap Why do you press me thus between your Arms As if you lov'd me still I am sure you cannot Pray let me hide my Face within your Bosom For if you look upon me I shall fright you O! I've a pain here just about my heart When you my Lord a long time after me Shall dye will you not lay my little Bones By yours Alas my pain encreases Oh Diâ—s Borg. Revenge thee Boy I ask but that from Fate And see 't is given me Through a thousand Wounds Thus horrid Priest purge out thy lustful blood Stabs Ascâ—â— And Vomit thy black Soul Ascan. Oh! Devil Devil Devil Diâ—sâ— Borg. No Machiavel 't is now fit time to rave For I am now enrag'd to that degree That I will live even in despight of Fortune Stars Fates and all the Juggles of a Heaven Hence bear me Slaves and plunge me into Tyber Deep as I sunk the Duke of Gandia down Till I have quench't this Hell within my bowels Then slâ—y me an Oxe-hide and swadle me Like Hercules in the Nemean-skin 'Till all my poison'd flesh like bark pillâ— off And my bare Trunck stands every brushing wind Enna Where are our Guards My Lords I judge it fit That Machiavel and Borgia should be seiz'd Borg. Seize me what sawcy Priâ—st durst start that motion Am I not Tyrant here The Lord of Rome Does not France dread my Frown and Spain adore me Who then dares talk of seizing me what he This wag tail Priest with the black picked Beard That scowrs the Country round for freckled Wenchesâ— Or was it yâ—u my Lord of Enna Ha! Death where 's my Majesty oâ— vail your Caps Or I will trample you beneath my Feet You Ange that câ—uld prostiâ—uâ—e your Sister To gain a Hat lye there Lord of St. Peter You Cardinal ad Vincula you pack of Hell-hounds That trace me by thâ— blood On on I say On to the brink of Hell Thence plunge together Where on his Throne behold the Master Devil With a great pair of glowing Horns red hot To gore you for your lives incontinence You Ravishers you Virgin pioners You Cuckold-makers of the forked World Ange. Where are your Guards Borg. Hark I hear 'em coming Or is it Dooms day Ha by Hell it is And see the Heav'ns and Earth and Air are all On fire the very Seas like Moulten-glass Rowl their bâ—ight Waves and from the smoky deep Cast up the glaring Dead The Trumpet sounds And the swift Angels skim about the Globe To summon all Mankind Rome Rome is call'd Work work for Hell Hoa Satan Belzebub Belial and Baal Whence this Thunderclap They 've blown us up with Wild-fire in the Air And look how the ball'd Fryâ—rs in Russet-gowns Croak like old Vultures how the flutt'ring Iesuits In blâ—ck and white chatter about the Heav'ns Capuchins Monks with the whole Tribe of Knaves Thâ—n let me burst my spleen Look how the Tassels Caps Hâ—ts and Cardinals Coats and Cowls and Hoods Are tost about the sport the sport of Winds Indulgences Dispences Pardâ—ns Bulls see yonder Priest they sly they 're whirld aloft They fly They fly or'e the backside o' th' world Into a Limbo large and broad since call'd the Paradise Of Fools Enna 'T is just we give him way this fit of rage Has wasted him to Death see he breaths short The Taper's spent and this is his last Blaze Borg. Ha! Breath I short Prelate thou ly'st my pulse Beats with a constant fire and spritely motion The strings of my tough Heart as strong as ever No I will live in spight of Fate I 'll live To be the scourge of Rome I 'll live to act New mischiefs and create new wicked Popes To ponyard Heretick Princes that refuse To lay their Nâ—cks beneath the holy Slipper Murder successively two Kings of France Britain attempt though her most watchful Angel Saves the Lov'd Monarch of that happy Isle And turns upon our selves the plotted Wound That sinks me to the Earth yet still we 'll on And hatch new dâ—eds of darkness O Hell and Furies Why should we not since the great Head himself Will back my Plots joyn me in blood and horror And after give me Bond for my Salvation I swear I will I 'll have it nay Sir you shall Or I will thunder to your Holiness But hark he whispers what a little Gold With all my heart thus Devils buy souls for trash I 'll fee your itching palm for Absolution Gold for my pardon hey 't is seal'd and given And for a Ducat thus I purchase Heav'n Dies Maeh The mighty soul there forc'd her furious passage And plunges now in deep Eternity I see my Lords you have resolv'd to guard me And I submit to strict Examination By you to be acquitted or condemned Yet this I must avow before you all Though you should cast me to the Inquisition Skill'd as I am in all Affairs of Earth Known both to Popes and Kings and often honour'd With Cabinet Councils of Imperial Heads I here resolve on this as my last Judgment No Power is safe nor no Religion good Whose Principles of growth are laid in Blood EPILOGUE WELL then be you his Iudges what pretence Made them roar out this Play would give offence Had he the Pope's Effigies meant to burn And kept for sport his Ashes in an Vrn To try if Reliques would perform at Home But haâ—f those Miracles they do at Rome More could not have been said nor more been done To damn this Play about the Court and Town Not if he had shown their Philters Charms and Rage Nay â—onjur'd up Pope Jone to please the Age And had her Breeches search'd upon the Stage First then he brings a scandal on the Gownâ— And makes a Priest both Leacher and Buffoon Why was no Fool yet ever made a Flamen But dulnâ—ss quite entail'd upon the Lay men Or was it ever heard in Rome before That any Priest was quâ—stâ—on'd for his Whore Yet more the horrid Chair the Mid night show He says 't was done two hundred Years ago He only points their ways of murdering then If you must damn spare the Historian's Pen And damn those Rogues that act 'em oâ—re again But Dominicks Franciscans Hermits Fryars Shall breed no more a Race of Zealous Lyars Villains who for Religion's Propagation Come here disguis'd in ev'ry mean Vocation And sit in Stalls to spy upon the Nation Old Emissarâ—es shall their Trade forbear Spread no more Savoy Reliques Bones and Hair Shall sell no more like Baubles in a Fair Monks under ground shall cease to earth like Moâ—es And Father Lewis leave his lurking-holes Get no more Thirty Pâ—unds for a blind Story Of ficeing a Welch Soul from Purgatory Iesuits in Rome shall quite forswear their Function And not for Gold give Whores the Exâ—reme Unction High English Whores that have all Vices past Shall cease to turn true Catholicks at last When Poets write tho by exactest Rules And are not judg'd by Knaves and damn'd by Fools FINIS
resolv'd nor let a few false Tears Melt you again to an untimely mildness Charlotta thus deluded you in Franâ—e Which render'd all your Court ridiculous Remember that and lest the like disgrace Should happen now drag her if she refuses Borg. I will my Machiavel O Arms O Glory What an Eternal Rust would smear your Luster Did not this Spirit of Ambition fire me I 'll tell her that the lives of all her race Are now within my power Mach. Nay threaten her Borg. I will do more than threaten Think not the dreadful Caesar will be rows'dâ— To threaten only that 's a sleeping Borgia A loving dreaming Conscientious Borgia But when I wake there 's always Execution Mach. It has been so Borgia And shall I swear again No Machiavel she must be mine or dye Should she for refuge to the Temple flie I 'd after her there if she scorns my flame To the dumb Sainâ—â— I will my Vows proclaim And in their view resolve the glorious game Upon the Golden Shrines I 'll lay her head And ev'n the Altar make my Bridâ—l Bed Ex. Ambo ACT II. SCENE I. Enter Orsino and Bellamiâ—â— in Mourning Orsino WHERE didst thou get the daring thus to move me â— By thy dead Mothers shrowd not the first Night When in my Youâ—hful arms I grasp'd her to me Was I so hot with Love as now with rage Thou Young and Virgin Witch thou new-found Fury Bella. Ah Sir for Iâ—am afraid to call you Father Give me my Death give to these trembling breasts A thousand wounds or cut me Limb from Limb But do not look so dreadâ—ully upon me Nor blast me with such sounds Oh pity me There 's not one faâ—al sentence one dread VVord But runs like Iron through my freezing blood VVhat have I done Ah what is my offence And tell me how which way I shall aâ—one you Orsin O thou vile wretch what is thy offence Dost thou not know it Exquisite dissembler Thou leading Sorc'ress Hecat of thy Sex Subtlest of all thy kind that ever rowld Their false deluding eyes and in their Glasses Conjur'd for looks to cheat the simple world But to take all evasion from thy guilt Did I not charge thee as thou fear'st my curse This very Morning to adorn thy self As one whom the great Duke intends to honour By makiâ—g thee his Bride Bell. Alas you did And I am come Oh Heaven and all you Powers That pity womans weakness I am come My Lord as you commanded and have vow'd Tho Death atends my Nuptials to obey you Orsin Thou ly'st even in thy heart thou know'st thou ly'st Thou hast maliciously most grosly fail'd In this obedience Say declare haste â—nswer Thou most ungrateful wretch Ah how unlike Thy meek thy Perfect bright and blessed Mother Is this a habit for a glorious Bride Dost thou thus meet the generous Borgia I know thy awkard Heart thou meanst by this To tell the VVorld thou dost not like thy Husband And dash him at the Altar but by Heav'n Whither thou Murdress now art sending mâ— This shall not serve thy purpose In this dress That blasts my eyes and strikes my Soul with sadness I 'll see the Priest for ever make you one Bellam. Ah! how have I deseâ—v'd this cruel usagâ— Did ever Daughter yet obey like me Not she who in the Dungeon fed her Father With her own Milk and by her Piety Sav'd him from Death can match my rigorous Vertue For I have done much more torn off my Breasts My Breasts my very Heart and flung it from me To feed the Tyrant Duty with my blood Orsin Call'st thou the lawful Imposition of A careful Father that intends thee honour Tyrannical and bloody Rage resume me Here seest thou this O would the gallant Borgia Could fling thee from his Soul as I from mine For 't is respect to him that saves thy life Else by the Feaver that quite burns me up I 'd ponyard thee till all thy Robes were Crimson Yet since thou hast the Impudence to brave me And câ—ll thy Father Tyrant to his face I that have foster'd thee even from the Womb And bred thee in my Bosom hear and tremble For I will curse thee till thy frighted Soul Runs mad with horrour till thy Mother starts From her cold Monument to beg me cease Though all in vain Bâ—llam I cast me at your feet I 'm all Obedience See Sir see me here Grovelling upon the Earth Orsin Curs'd be the Night Ten thousand Curses on that fatal hour When my great Spirit trifled with thy Mother For the Production of so false a Joy Bellam. O horrid blasting breath Orsin When I am dead My troubled Ghost shall nightly haunt thy Dreamâ— Bellam. Ah hold I kiss your feet and hug your kneeâ— Orsin Though in thy Husbands Arms I 'll draw the Curtainsâ— And stare thee into Frenzy and thy Lord I 'll Charm so fast thy shrieks shall not awake him Bellam. Yet Sir forbear tread on me trample me Orsin And all the day when other Spirits sleep I 'll follow thee with groans and curse thee still Nay when thou seek'st for company to scape me I 'll make thee scream See there his Spirit stands Bellam. Hear him not Heav'n Orsin After thy first imbrace May thy Lord loath thee swear thou art no Virgin And cast thee off as a most leud Adulteress Bellam. If there be Saints or Angels Oh I charge you Orsin Or if thy Husband should by chance retain thee Heart-burnings Jealousies incite him still To plague thee with a Thousand Hells on Earth And after end thee in some horrid manner Bellam. Ponyard me as you promis'd Sir Oh stab me Orsin Eternal Barrenness shut up thy Womb If ought that 's humane chance to raise thy hopeâ— May it be monstrous at the curst Production An after birth or some abhorr'd Conception Enter Duke of Gandia in Mourning Bellam. Y'have said enough my heart my spirits fail me And I have now my wish without a Dagger Orsin What now another Mourner Hell and Furies They both have plotted to undo my Honour Well Duke of Gandia but I 'll call the Bridegroom Gand. Ha! how 's this the beauteous Bellamira Upon the Earth Help help my Lord she 's cold Your Daughter Swoons Orsin I care not let her perish And thou who hast seduc'd her perish with her Swoon with her sink with her Die both and both be damn'd Ex. Orsino Gand. Wake Bellamira from this sleep of Death Life of Palante's life give me a word See thou art safe clasp'd in thy Gandia's Arms Palantâ— holds thee Say what Murderer Offer'd this cruelty and I 'll revenge thee Bellam. Where am I ha loose loose me from your arms Stand off fly from me fly Palante fly For we must never never meet agen The Poles may sooner joyn O I am lost By an inexorable Father ruin'd Cursed blasted and for thee unhappy Prince Thou hast undone me though not by thy will For sure thou lov'st the wretched
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
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