ACT II., SCENE 1.

_A table and chairs._

_Enter_ (_after a shout crying_ ANTONIO) _the_ GOVERNOR _and_ COUNT MACHIAVEL.

GOV. Hell take their spacious throats! we shall ere long Be pointed as a prodigy! Antonio is the man they load with praise, And we stand as a cypher to advance Him by a number higher.

MACH. Now, Mach'vel, plot his ruin.

[_Aside._

It is not to be borne; are not you our Master's substitute? then why should he Usurp a privilege without your leave To preach unto the people a doctrine They ought not hear? He incites 'em not to obey your charge, Unless it be to knit a friendly league With the opposing French, laying before 'em A troop of feigned dangers will ensue, If we do bid 'em battle.

GOV. Dares he do this?

MACH. 'Tis done already; Smother your anger, and you shall see here At the council-board he'll break into a Passion, which [_Aside_] I'll provoke him to.

_To them_ ANTONIO, ALERZO, FULGENTIO, _and_ PANDOLPHO: _they sit in council_.

GOV. Never more need, my worthy partners in The dangerous brunts of iron war, had we Of counsel: the hot-reined French, led by That haughty Moor, upon whose sword sits victory Enthroned, daily increase; And, like the army of another Xerxes, Make the o'erburthen'd earth groan at their weight. We cannot long hold out; nor have we hope Our royal master can raise up their siege, Ere we be forc'd to yield: My lord, your counsel; 'tis a desperate grief.

MACH. And must, my lord, find undelay'd release? Noble commanders, since that war's grim god, After our sacrifice of many lives, Neglects our offerings, and repays our service With loss; 'tis good to deal with policy. He's no true soldier, that deals heedless blows With the endangering of his life; and may Walk in a shade of safety, yet o'erthrow His towering enemy. Great Alexander made the then known world Slave to his powerful will more by the help Of politic wit Than by the rough compulsion of the sword. Troy, that endur'd the Grecians ten years' siege, By policy was fir'd, and became like to A lofty beacon all on flame.

GOV. Hum, hum!

MACH. Suppose the French be mark'd for conquerors? Stars have been cross'd, when at a natural birth They dart prodigious beams; their influence, Like to the flame of a new-lighted taper, Has with the breath of policy been blown Out,--even to nothing.

FUL. Hum, hum!

ALER. This has been studied.

[_Aside._]

PAN. He's almost out.

[_Aside._]

GOV. Good. But to the matter. You counsel?

MACH. 'Tis this, my lord, That straight, before the French have pitched their tents, Or rais'd a work before our city walls-- As yet their ships have not o'erspread the sea-- We send a regiment, that may with speed Land on the marshes, and begirt their backs, Whilst we open our gates, and with a strong assault Force 'em retreat into the arms of death: So the revengeful earth shall be their tomb, That did erewhile trample her teeming womb.

GOV. Machiavel speaks oracle; what says Antonio?

ANT. Nothing.

GOV. How?

ANT. Nothing.

MACH. It takes; revenge, I hug thee; young lord, thou art lost.

[_Aside._

GOV. Speak, Antonio, your counsel.

ANT. Nothing.

GOV. How?

ANT. So; And could my wish obtain a sudden grant From yon tribunal, I would crave my senses Might be all steeped in Lethe, to forget What Machiavel has spoken.

MACH. Ha! it takes unto my wish.

[_Aside._

Why, Antonio?

ANT. Because you speak Not like a man, that were possess'd with a Mere soldier's heart, much less a soul guarded With subtle sinews. O madness! can there be In nature such a prodigy, so senseless, So much to be wondered at, As can applaud or lend a willing ear To that my blushes do betray? I've been Tardy to hear your childish policy.

GOV. Antonio, you're too bold; this usurp'd liberty To abuse a man of so much merit is not Seemly in you: nay, I'll term it sauciness.

ANT. Nay, then, my lord, I claim the privilege Of a councillor, and will object. This my prophetic fear whisper'd my heart: When from a watchtow'r I beheld the French Erect their spears which, like a mighty grove, Denied my eyes any other object: The tops show'd by a stolen reflection from The sun like diamonds, or as the glorious Gilder of the day should deign a lower visit. Then my warm blood, that used to play like Summer, felt a change; grey-bearded winter Froze my very soul, till I became, Like the Pyrenian hills, wrapp'd in a robe of ice: My arctic[18] fears froze me into a statue.

ALER. Cowardly Antonio!

FUL. I have lost my faith, And can behold him now without a wonder.

GOV. Antonio, y' are too long, and rack our patience; Your counsel?

ANT. I fear'd--but what? not our proud enemies: No, did they burthen all our Spanish world, And I, poor I, only surviv'd to threat defiance In the mounseers'[19] teeth, and stand defendant For my country's cause, naked, unarm'd, I'd through their bragging host, and pay my life A sacrifice to death for my loved country's safety.

ALER. Fulgentio, thou hast not lost Thy faith?

[_Aside._]

FUL. No, I'm reform'd; he's valiant.

[_Aside._]

GOV. Antonio, your counsel?

MACH. Ay, your counsel?

ANT. Our foes increase to an unreckon'd number; We less than nothing, since we have no hope To arrive a number, that may cope with Half their army. 'Tis my counsel we strike a league: 'Tis wisdom to sue peace, where powerful fate Threatens a ruin: lest [we] repent too late.

FUL. 'Tis god-like counsel.

[_Aside._

ALER. And becomes the tongue of young Antonio.

[_Aside._

GOV. Antonio, let me tell you, you have lost Your valiant heart; I can with safety now Term you a coward.

ANT. Ha!

GOV. Nay, more, Since by your oratory you strive To rob your country of a glorious conquest, That may to after-times beget a fear, Even with the thought should awe the trembling World, you are a traitor.

ANT. Ha! my lord! coward and traitor! 'tis a damned lie, And in the heart of him dares say't again I'll write his error.

MACH. 'Tis as I would have't.

[_Aside._

FUL. Noble Antonio!

[_Aside._

ALER. Brave-spirited lord!

[_Aside._

FUL. The mirror of a soldier!

[_Aside._

GOV. O, are you mov'd, sir? has the deserved name Of traitor prick'd you?

ANT. Deserv'd?

GOV. Yes.

MACH. Yes.

ANT. Machiavel, thou liest; hadst thou a heart Of harden'd steel, my powerful arm Should pierce it.

[_They fight all in a confused manner_: ANTONIO _kills the_ GOVERNOR, MACHIAVEL _falls_.

ALER. The governor Slain by Antonio's hand?

FUL. No, by the hand of justice; fly, fly, my lord!

ALER. Send for a chirurgeon to dress Count Machiavel: He must be now our governor; the king Signed it in the dead governor's commission.

[_Exeunt._

ANT. Now I repent too late my rash contempt: The horror of a murtherer will still Follow my guilty thoughts, fly where I will.

[_Exit_ ANTONIO.

MACH. I'm wounded; else, coward Antonio, Thou shouldst not fly from my revengeful arm: But may my curses fall upon thy head, Heavy as thunder! may'st thou die Burthen'd with ulcerous sins, whose very weight May sink thee down to hell, Beneath the reach of smooth-fac'd mercy's arm!

[_A shout within, crying_ ANTONIO.

Confusion choke your rash officious throats! And may that breath that speaks his loathed name Beget a plague, whose hot infectious air May scald you up to blisters, which foretel A purge of life! Up, Machiavel, Thou hast thy will, howe'er cross fate Divert the people's hearts; they must perforce Sue to that shrine our liking shall erect. The governor is dead, Antonio's lost To anything but death; 'tis our glad fate To gripe the staff of what we look'd for--state. My blood's ambitious, and runs through my veins, Like nimble water through a leaden pipe Up to some barren mountain. I must have more; All wealth, in my thoughts, to a crown is poor.

_Enter_ GIOVANNO, EVADNE, _and_ NURSE.

GIO. 'Tis a neat gown, and fashionable, madam; is't not, love?

NUR. Upon my virginity, wonderful handsome: dear, when we are married, I'll have such a one; shall I not, chicken, ha?

GIO. What else, kind nurse?

NUR. Truly you tailors are the most sanctified members of a kingdom: how many crooked and untoward bodies have you set upright, that they go now so straight in their lives and conversation, as the proudest on them all?

GIO. That's certain, none prouder.

EVAD. How mean you, sir?

GIO. Faith, madam, your crooked movables in artificial bodies, that rectify the deformity of nature's overplus, as bunching backs: or scarcity, as scanty shoulders--are the proudest creatures; you shall have them jet it with an undaunted boldness; for the truth is, what they want in substance they have in air: they will scold the tailor out of his art, and impute the defect of nature to his want of skill, though his labour make her appearance pride-worthy.

NUR. Well said, my bird's-nye, stand for the credit of tailors whilst thou livest; wilt thou not, chuck? Ha, say'st thou, my dear?

GIO. I were ungrateful else.

EVAD. Nurse, pray leave us, your presence makes your sweetheart negligent of what he comes about; pray, be won to leave us here.

NUR. Madam, your will's obey'd: Yet I can hardly pass from thee, my love, At such a sudden warning.

GIO. Your eager love may be termed dotage; For shame! confine[20] yourself to less expressions, [And] leave my lady.

NUR. A kiss, and then I go; so, farewell, my duck.

[_Exit._

GIO. Death, she has left a scent to poison me; Love her, said she? is any man so mad to hug a disease, Or embrace a colder image than Pygmalion's, Or play with the bird of Frosty antiquity? not I: Her gums stink worse than a pest-house, And more danger of infecting.

[_Aside._

As I'm a mortal tailor, and your servant, madam, Her breath has tainted me: I dare not salute Your ladyship.

EVAD. Come, you are loth to part with't, 'tis so sweet.

GIO. Sweet, say you, madam? a muster of diseases Can't smell worse than her rotten teeth. Excuse my boldness, to defer your longing; Thus I am new-created with your breath.

[_Kisses._

My gaping pores will ne'er be satisfied. Again!--they still are hungry.

EVAD. My dear friend, let not thy lovely person March with the scolding peace-affrighting drum: War is too cruel: come, I'll chain You here--here in my arms; and stifle you With kisses; you sha' not go--by this, you sha' not go.

GIO. By this, I must.

[_He kisses her._

EVAD. I'll smother that harsh breath.

[_She kisses him._

GIO. Again I countercheck it.

[_Kiss._

_Enter_ ANTONIO, _as pursued; he sees them, and stands amazed_.

ANT. O sister! ha! What killing sight is this? cannot be she. Sister.

EVAD. O my dear friend, my brother! w' are undone.

ANT. Degenerate girl, lighter than wind or air! Canst thou forget thy birth? or, 'cause thou'rt fair, Art privileg'd, dost think, with such a zeal To grasp an under-shrub? dare you exchange Breath with your tailors without fear of vengeance From the disturbed ghosts of our dead parents, For their blood's injury? or are your favours Grown prostitute to all? my unkind fate Grieves me not half so much as thee forgetful.

GIO. Sir, if on me this language, I must tell you, You are too rash to censure. My unworthiness, That makes me[21] seem so ugly in your eyes, Perhaps hangs in these clothes, and's shifted off with them. I am as noble, but that I hate to make Comparisons, as any you can think worthy To be call'd her husband.

ANT. Shred of a slave, thou liest!

GIO. Sir, I am hasty too; yet, in the presence of My mistress [I] can use a temper.

ANT. [O] brave! your mistress!

_Enter_ MACHIAVEL _with Officers_.

MACH. Lay hold on him! Ere we presume to meet the enemy, We'll purge the city; lest the wrath of Heaven Fall heavy on us. Antonio, I arrest thee Of capital treason 'gainst the king and realm. To prison with him!

EVAD. O my lost brother!

GIO. 'Tis but an error; treason, d'ye call it, to kill The governor in heat of blood, and not intended? For my Evadne's sake, something I'll do Shall save his life.

[_Exit._

MACH. To prison with him!

ANT. Farewell, Evadne, as thou lovest the peace Of our dead ancestors, cease to love So loath'd a thing; a tailor! Why, 'tis the scorn of all; therefore be rul'd By thy departing brother, do not mix With so much baseness. Come, officers, bear me e'en where you please, My oppress'd conscience nowhere can have ease.

[_Exit with Officers._

MACH. Lady, we here enjoin you to Your chamber As a prisoner, to wait a further censure; Your brother's fault has pull'd a punishment Upon your head, which you must suffer.

EVAD. E'en what you please, your tyranny can't bear A shape so bad to make Evadne fear: Strong innocence shall guard my afflicted soul, Whose constancy shall tyranny control.

[_Exeunt. A noise within, crying Rescue, rescue! Enter_ ANTONIO _and Guard; to them_ GIOVANNO _and_ TAILORS, _and rescue him, and beat them off_.

_Enter an_ OFFICER, _meeting_ MACHIAVEL.

OFF. A troop of tailors by force have ta'en Antonio from us, and have borne him (spite Of the best resistance we could make) unto some Secret place; we cannot find him.

MACH. Screech-owl, dost know what thou hast said? Death! find him, or you die! O my cross stars! He must not live to torture our vex'd sense, But die; though he'd no fault but innocence.

[_Exit._

_Enter_ GIOVANNO, ANTONIO, _and the_ OLD TAILOR.

GIO. Can this kindness merit your love? Do I deserve your sister?

ANT. My sister! worthy tailor, 'tis a gift lies not in me to give: ask something else, 'tis thine, although it be gained with the quite extinguishing of this--this breath you gave me.

GIO. Have not I----

ANT. Speak no further; I confess you have been all unto me, life and being; I breathe but with your licence: will no price buy out your interest in me but her love? I tell thee, tailor, I have blood runs in me, Spain cannot match for greatness next her kings. Yet, to requite thy love, I'll call thee friend; be thou Antonio's friend--a favour nobles have thirsted for: will this requite thee?

GIO. Sir, this may, but----

ANT. My sister, thou wouldst say, most worthy tailor; she's not mine to give; honour spake in my dying father: 'tis a sentence that's registered here in Antonio's heart--I must not wed her but to one in blood calls honour father. Prythee, be my friend; forget I have a sister; in love I'll be more than a brother, though not to mingle blood.

GIO. May I not call her mistress?

ANT. As a servant, far from the thoughts of wedlock.

GIO. I'm yours, friend: I am proud on't; you shall find That, though a tailor, I've an honest mind. Pray, master, help my lord unto a suit; his life Lies at your mercy.

1ST TAI. I'll warrant you.

ANT. But for thy men.

1ST TAI. O, they are proud in that they rescu'd you, And my blood of honour; since you are pleas'd To grace the now declining trade of tailors By being shrouded in their homely clothes, And deck a shop-board with your noble person; The taunting scorns the foul-mouth'd world can throw Upon our needful calling shall be answered: They injure honour, since your honour is a Noble practitioner in our mystery.

GIO. Cheer up, Antonio, take him in. The rest will make him merry; I'd go try The temper of a sword upon some shield That guards a foe. Pray for my good success.

[_Exit._

1ST TAI. Come, come, my lord, leave melancholy To hired slaves, that murther at a price: Yours was----

ANT. No more: flatter not [so] my sin.

1ST TAI. You are too strict a convertite; let's in.

[_Exit._

_After a confused noise within, enter_ RAYMOND, LEONIS, GILBERTI, _hastily_.

RAY. What means this capering echo? Or whence did this so lively counterfeit Of thunder break out [in] to liberty?

GIL. 'Tis from the city.

RAY. It cannot be their voice should outroar Jove; Our army, like a basilisk, has struck Death through their eyes; our number, like a wind, Broke from the icy prison of the north, Has froze the portals to their shivering hearts; They scarce have breath enough to speak't They live.

[_A shout within._

GIL. 'Tis certainly from thence.

LEO. Y' are deceived, poor Spaniards! Fear Has chang'd their elevated gait to a dejection: They're planet-struck.

RAY. 'Tis from our jocund fleet, my genius prompts me; They have already plough'd th' unruly seas, And with their breasts, proof 'gainst the battering Waves, dash'd the big billows into angry froth, And, spite of the contentious foul-mouth'd gods Of sea and wind, have reach'd the city frontiers, And [have] begirt her navigable skirts. Again! 'tis so.

[_Again within._

GIL. My creed's another way; I have no faith but to the city.

_Alarum._ _Enter a_ SOLDIER _bloody_.

LEO. Here's one: Now we shall know. Ha! he appears Like one compos'd of horror.

RAY. What speaks thy troubled front?

LEO. Speak, crimson meteor.

RAY. Speak, prodigy, or on my sword thou fall'st.

SOL. The bold Spaniards, setting aside all cold acknowledgment of any odds, or notice of the number our army is made proud with, sends from their walls more lightning than great Jove affrights the trembling world with, when the air is turn'd to mutiny.

RAY. Villain, thou liest; 'twere madness to believe thee. Foolish Spain may, like those giants that heap hill on hill, mountain on mountain, to pluck Jove from heaven, who with a hand of vengeance flung 'em down beneath the centre, and those cloud-contemning mounts heav'd by the strength of their ambitious arms, became their monuments; so Spain's rash folly from this arm of mine shall find their graves amongst the rubbish of their ruin'd cities.

_Enter a second_ SOLDIER.

What, another! thy hasty news?

2D MESS. The daring enemies have through their gates made a victorious sally: all our troops have jointly, like the dust before the wind, made a dishonoured flight. Hark!

[_Alarum within._]

The conquering foe makes hitherward.

RAY. Run to my tent, fetch my Philippa, slave. Why movest thou not?

2D MESS. The enemy's upon us.

RAY. Shall I send thy coward soul down the vaults of horror? Fly, villain, or thou diest!

[_Strikes him._

_Alarum._ _Enter_ MACHIAVEL, ALERZO, FULGENTIO, PANDOLPHO, _with_ PHILIPPA _prisoner_, GIOVANNO _with_ TAILOR.

MACH. Let one post to my castle, and conduct My lady; tell her I have a prisoner would become Proud in her forc'd captivity, to wait Upon her beauty: fly, let not the tardy clouds outsail thee.

PHIL. Canst thou, proud man, think that Philippa's heart Is humbled with her fortunes? No, didst thou Bring all the rough tortures From the world's childhood to this hour invented, And on my resolute body, proof against pain, Practis'd Sicilian tyranny, my giant thoughts Should, like a cloud of wind-contemning smoke, Mingle with heaven: And not a look so base as to be pitied Shall give you cause of triumph.

ALER. 'Fore heaven, a fiery girl.

FUL. A masculine spirit.

PAN. An Amazon.

RAY. See, my Philippa, her rich colour's fled, and like that soul The furrow-fronted fates have made an anvil To forge diseases on, she's lost herself With her fled beauty; yet, pale as she stands, She adds more glory to our churlish foe, Than bashful Titan to the eastern world. Spaniards, she is a conquest; Rome, When her two-neck'd eagles aw'd the world, Would have swum through her[22] own blood to purchase: Nor must you enjoy that gem the superstitious gods Would quarrel for, but through my heart. Courage, brave friends, they're valiant that can fly I' th' mouth of danger; 'tis they win, though die.

GIO. This Moor speaks truth, Wrapp'd in a voice of thunder.

RAY. Speak, my Philippa, what untutor'd slave Durst lay a rugged hand upon thy softness?

PHIL. 'Twas the epitome of Hercules: No big Colossus, yet for strength far bigger: A little person, great with matchless valour.

RAY. What pains thou takest to praise Thine enemy!

PHIL. 'Twere sin to rob him that has wasted so his blood for praise: this noble soldier, he 'twas made me captive; nor can he boast 'twas in an easy combat; for my good sword, now ravish'd from mine arm, forc'd crimson drops that, like a gory sweat, buried his manly body in oblivion: those that were skill'd in his effigies, as drunk with Lethe, had forgot 'twas he; till by the drawing of the rueful curtain, they saw in him their error.

RAY. A common soldier, owner of a strength worthy Such praise? Dares he cope with the French general single?

PHIL. My lord, you must strike quick and sure.

RAY. Why pause you? my Philippa must not stay Captivity's infection.

MACH. We have the day.

RAY. Not till you conquer me: which if my arm Be not by witchcraft robb'd of his late strength, Shall spin your labour to an ample length.

MACH. Upon him, then.

GIO. Odds is dishonourable combat: my lads, Lets one to one; I am for the Moor.

ALER. Thee!

FUL. Tailor, you are too saucy.

GIO. Saucy?

ALER. Untutor'd groom, mechanic slave!

GIO. You have protection by the governor's presence, Else, my plum'd estridges,[23] 'tis not your feathers, More weighty than your beads, should stop My vengeance, but I'd text my wrong In bloody characters upon your pamper'd flesh.

FUL. You would?

GIO. By heaven, I would!

FUL. You'd be advis'd, and render up your life A sacrifice to patience.

GIO. Musk-cat, I'd make your civet worship stink First in your perfumed buff.

ALER. Phlegmatic slave!

GIO. Bloodless commanders.

FUL. } PAN. } How? ALER. }

GIO. So.

FUL. } PAN. } Let's reward his boldness. ALER. }

[_They fall upon_ GIOVANNO.

MACH. Whence this rashness?

RAY. Bless'd occasion! let's on 'em.

[_The French whisper. The French fly upon 'em: they turn to their Guard, and beat 'em off._