Part 25

_Ferd._ Good night, I have a friend has almost made me mad: I weep sometimes, and instantly can laugh: Nay, I do dance, and sing, and suddenly Roar like a storm. Strange tricks these, are they not? And wherefore all this? Shall I tell you? no, Thorow mine ears, my heart a plague hath caught, And I have vow'd to keep it close, not shew My grief to any; for it has no cure. On, wandring steps, to some remote place move: I'll keep my vow, though I have lost my Love. [_Exit._

_Ben._ 'Fore heaven, distracted for her! fare you well: I'll watch his steps; for I no joy shall find, Till I have found his cause, and calm'd his mind. [_Exit._

[_Rand._] He's overcome with joy.

_Ang[e]l._ 'Tis very strange.

_Rand._ Well, Sister, I must leave you; the time's busie. _Violanta_, chear you up; and I pray Heaven Restore each to their love, and health again. [_Exit._

_Viol._ Amen, Great Uncle. Mother, what a chance Unluckily is added to my woe, In this young Gentleman!

_Ang[e]l._ True, _Violanta_: It grieves me much. _Doll_, go you instantly, And find out _Gerrard_; tell him his friends hap, And let him use best means to comfort him; But as his life preserve this secret still.

_Viol._ Mother, I'ld not offend you: might not _Gerrard_ Steal in, and see me in the evening?

_Angel._ Well, Bid him do so.

_Viol._ Heavens blessing o' your heart. Do ye not call Child-bearing, Travel, Mother?

_Angel._ Yes.

_Viol._ It well may be, The bare-foot traveller That's born a Prince, and walks his pilgrimage, Whose tender feet kiss the remorseless stones Only, ne'er felt a travel like to it. Alas, dear Mother, you groan'd thus for me, And yet how disobedient have I been!

_Angel._ Peace, _Violanta_, thou hast always been Gentle and good.

_Viol. Gerrard_ is better, Mother: Oh if you knew the implicite innocency Dwells in his brest, you'ld love him like your Prayers. I see no reason but my Father might Be told the truth, being pleas'd for _Ferdinand_ To wooe himself: and _Gerard_ ever was His full comparative: my Uncle loves him, As he loves _Ferdinand_.

_Angel._ No, not for the world, Since his intent is cross'd: lov'd _Ferdinand_ Thus ruin'd, and a child got out of wedlock: His madness would pursue ye both to death.

_Viol._ As you please (mother:) I am now, methinks, Even in the land of ease; I'll sleep.

_Angel._ Draw in The bed nearer the fire: silken rest, Tie all thy cares up. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Ferdinand _and_ Benvoglio _privately after him_.

_Ferd._ Oh blessed solitude! here my grief[s] may speak; And sorrow, I will argue with thee now: Nothing will keep me company: the flowers Die at my moan; the gliding silver streams Hasten to flee my lamentations; The air rolls from 'em; and the Golden Sun Is smother'd pale as _Phœbe_ with my sighs: Only the earth is kind, that stays. Then earth, To thee will I complain. Why do the Heavens Impose upon me Love, what I can ne'er enjoy? Before fruition was impossible, I did not thirst it. _Gerrard_, she is thine, Seal'd and deliver'd; but 'twas ill to stain Her virgin state, e'r ye were married. Poor Infant, what's become of thee? thou know'st not The woe thy parents brought thee t[o]. Dear earth, Bury this close in thy sterility; Be barren to this seed, let it not grow; For if it do, 'twill bud no Violet Nor Gillyflower, but wild Brier, or rank Rue, Unsavory and hurtful.

_Ben. Ferdinand_, Thy steel hath digg'd the Earth, thy words my Heart.

_Ferd._ Oh! I have violated faith, betraid My friend and innocency.

_Ben._ Desperate youth, Violate not thy soul too: I have showers For thee, young man; but _Gerrard_ flames for thee. Was thy base pen made to dash out mine honor, And prostitute my Daughter? Bastard, whore, Come, turn thy femal tears into revenge, Which I will quench my thirst with, e'r I see Daughter, or Wife, or branded Family. By ---- both dye: and for amends, _Ferd'nando_ be my heir. I'll to my brother, First tell him all, then to the Duke for justice: This morning he's receiv'd. Mountains nor Seas Shall bar my flight to vengeance: the foul stain Printed on me, thy bloud shall rinse again. [_Exit._

_Ferd._ I have transgress'd all goodness, witlesly Rais'd mine own curs[es] from posterity: I'll follow, to redress in what I may; If not, your heir can dye as well as they. [_Exit._

Dumb Shew.

_Enter_ Duke Rinaldo _with Attendants, at one door; States_, Randulpho, _and_ Gerrard, _at another: they kneel to the Duke,_ _he accepts their obedience, and raises them up: they prefer_ Gerrard _to the Duke, who entertains him: they seat the Duke_ _in State. Enter_ Benvoglio _and_ Ferdinand: Benvoglio _kneels for justice_; Ferd. _seems to restrein him._ Benvog. _gives_ _the Duke a paper; Duke reads, frowns on_ Gerr. _shews the paper to the States, they seem sorry, consult, cause the_ _Guard to apprehend him; they go off with him. Then_ Rand. _and_ Benv. _seem to crave justice; Duke vows it, and_ exit _with his attendants._ Rand. Ben. _and_ Ferd. _confer. Enter to them_ Cornelia _with two servants; she seems to expostulate_, Rand. _in scorn, causeth her to be thrust out poorly._ Exit Rand. Benv. _beckons_ Ferd. _to him (with much seeming passion) swears him; then stamps with his foot. Enter_ Dorothea _with a Cup, weeping, she delivers it to_ Ferd. _who with discontent_ exit; _and_ exeunt Benvoglio _and_ Dorothea.

_Enter_ Violanta.

_Viol. Gerrard_ not come? nor _Dorothy_ return'd? What averse star rul'd my Nativity? The time to night has been as dilatory As languishing Consumptions. But till now I never durst say, my _Gerrard_ was unkind. Heaven grant all things go well; and nothing does, If he be ill, which I much fear: my dreams Have been portentous. I did think I saw My Love araid for battel with a beast, A hideous Monster, arm'd with teeth and claws, Grinning, and venemous, that sought to make Both us a prey: on's tail wa[s] lash'd in bloud _Law_: and his forehead I did plainly see Held Characters that spell'd _Authority_. This rent my slumbers; and my fearful soul Ran searching up and down my dismaid breast, To find a Port t'escape. Good faith, I am cold; But _Gerrard_'s love is colder: here I'll sit, And think my self away.

_Enter_ Ferdinand _with a Cup and a Letter_.

_Ferd._ The peace of Love Attend the sweet _Violanta_: Read, For the sad news I bring, I do not know; Only I am sworn to give you that, and this.

_Viol._ Is it from _G[e]rrard_? gentle _Ferdinand_, How glad am I to see you thus well restor'd! In troth he never wrong'd you in his life, Nor I, but always held fair thoughts of you, Knew not my Fathers meaning, till of late; Could never have known it soon enough: for Sir, _Gerrard_'s, and my affection began In infancy: My Uncle brought him oft In long coats hither; you were such another; The little boy would kiss me, being a child, And say, he lov'd me; give me all his toys, Bracelets, Rings, Sweet-meats, all his Rosie-smiles: I then would stand, and stare upon his eyes, Play with his locks, and swear I lov'd him too; For sure, methought, he was a little Love, He woo'd so prettily in innocence, That then he warm'd my fancy; for I felt A glimmering beam of Love kindle my bloud, Both which, time since hath made a flame and floud.

_Fer._ Oh gentle innocent! methinks it talks Like a child still, whose white simplicity Never arriv'd at sin. Forgive me, Lady, I have destroy'd _Gerrard_, and thee; rebell'd Against Heavens Ordinance; dis-pair'd two Doves, Made 'em sit mourning; slaughter'd Love, and cleft The heart of all integrity. This breast Was trusted with the secret of your vow By _Gerrard_, and reveal'd it to your Father.

_Viol._ Hah!

_Ferd._ Read, and curse me.

_Viol._ Neither: I will never Nor Write, nor Read again.

_Ferd._ My pennance be it. Reads. _Your Labyrinth is found, your Lust proclaim'd._

_Viol._ Lust? Humh: My Mother sure felt none, when I was got.

_Fer. I and the Law implacably offend[e]d._ Gerrard's _imprison'd, and to dye_.

_Viol._ Oh Heaven!

_Ferd. And you to suffe[r] with reproach and scoffs_ _A publick execution; I have sent you_ _An Antidote 'gainst shame, poison; by him_ _You have most wrong'd: give him your penitent tears._

_Viol._ Humh: 'tis not truth.

_Ferd. Drink, and farewel for ever:_ _And though thy whoredom blemish thy whol[e] line,_ _Prevent the Hangmans stroke, and die like mine._

_Viol._ Oh woe is me for _Gerrard_: I have brought Confusion on the noblest Gentleman That ever truly lov'd. But we shall meet Where our condemners shall not, and enjoy A more refin'd affection than here; No Law, nor Father hinders marriage there 'Twixt souls Divinely affi'd, as (sure) ours were: There we will multiply, and generate joyes Like fruitful Parents. Luckless _Ferdinand_, Where's the good old Gentlewoman, my Husbands Aunt?

_Ferd._ Thrust from you Uncle [t]o all poverty.

_Viol._ Alas the pi[t]y: reach me, Sir, the cup; I'll say my prayers, and take my Fathers Physick.

_Ferd._ Oh villain that I was, I had forgot To spill the rest, and am unable now To stir to hinder her.

_Viol._ What ail you, Sir?

_Ferd._ Your Father is a monster, I a villain, This tongue has kill'd you, pardon, _Violant[a]_, Oh pardon, _Gerrard_; and for sacrifice, Accept my life, to expiate my fault. I have drunk up the poison.

_Viol._ Thou art not so Uncharitable: a better fellow far, Thou'st left me halfe. Sure death is now a-dry, And calls for more bloud still to quench his thirst. I pledge thee _Ferdinand_, to _Gerrards_ health: Dear _Gerrard_, poor Aunt, and unfortunate friend, Ay me, that Love should breed true Lovers end.

_Fer._ Stay Madam, stay; help hoa, for Heavens sake help; Improvident man, that good I did intend For satisfaction, saving of her life, My equal cruel Stars made me forget.

_Enter_ Angelina _with two Servants_.

_Ang._ What spectacle of death assaults me? oh!

_Viol._ M[y] dearest Mother, I am dead, I leave Father, and friends, and life, to follow Love. Good Mother, love my Child, that did no ill. Fie, how men lie, that say, death is a pain: Or has he chang'd his nature? like soft sleep He seizes me. Your blessing. Last, I crave, That I may rest by _Gerrard_ in his grave.

_Ferd._ There lay me too: oh! noble Mistriss, I Have caus'd all this; and therefore justly dye. That key will open all.

_Ang._ Oh viperous Father! For Heavens sake, bear 'em in: run for Physitians, And Medicines quickly: Heaven, thou shalt not have her Yet; 'tis too soon: Alas, I have no more, And taking her away, thou rob'st the poor. [_Exeunt._ Flourish.

_Enter_ Duke, States, Randulpho, Benvoglio, Gerrard, Executioner, Guard.

_Duke._ The Law, as greedy as your red desire _Benvoglio_, hath cast this man: 'Tis pity So many excellent parts are swallow'd up In one foul wave. Is _Violanta_ sent for? Our Justice must not lop a branch, and let The body grow still.

_Ben._ Sir, she will be here Alive or dead, I am sure.

_[G]er._ How chearfully my countenance comments death! That which makes men seem horrid, I will wear Like to an Ornament. Oh _Violanta_! Might my life only satisfie the Law, How jocundly my soul would enter Heaven! Why shouldst thou dye? thou wither'st in thy bud, As I have seen a Rose, e'er it was blown. I do beseech your Grace, the Statute may (In this case made) be read: not that I hope T'extenuate my offence or penalty, But to see whether it lay hold on her. And since my death is more exemplary Than just, this publick Reading will advise Caution to others.

_Duke._ Read it.

_Ran._ Brother, does not Your soul groan under this severity?

Statute read.

_A Statute provided in case of unequal Matches, Marriages against Parents consent, stealing of Heirs, Rapes, Prostitutions, and such like: That if any person meanly descended, or ignorant of his own Parentage, which implies as much, shall with a foul intent, unlawfully sollicite the Daughter of any Peer of the Dukedom, he shall for the same offence forfeit his right hand: but if he further prostitute her to his Lust, he shall first have his right hand cut off, and then suffer death by the common Executioner. After whom, the Lady so offending, shall likewise the next day, in the same manner, dye for the Fact._

_Ger._ This Statute has more cruelty than sense: I see no ray of Mercy. Must the Lady Suffer death too? suppose she were inforc'd, By some confederates born away, and ravish'd; Is she not guiltless?

_Duke._ Yes, if it be prov'd.

_Ger._ This case is so: I ravish'd _Violanta_.

_State._ Who ever knew a Rape produce a child?

_Ben._ Pish, these are idle. Will your grace command The Executioner proceed?

_Duke._ Your Office.

_Ger._ Farewell to thy inticing vanity, Thou round gilt box, that dost deceive man's eye: The wise man knows, when open thou art broke, The treasure thou includ'st, is dust and smoke, Even thus, I cast thee by. My Lords, the Law Is but the great mans mule, he rides on it, And tramples poorer men under his feet; Yet when they come to knock at yon bright Gate, Ones Rags shall enter, 'fore the others State. Peace to ye all: here, sirrah, strike: this hand Hath _Violanta_ kiss'd a thousand times; It smells sweet ever since: this was the hand Plighted my faith to her: do not think thou canst Cut that in sunder with my hand. My Lord, As free from speck as this arm is, my heart Is of foul Lust, and every vein glides here As full of truth. Why does thy hand shake so? 'Tis mine must be cut off, and that is firm; For it was ever constant.

_Enter_ Cornelia.

_Cor._ Hold; your Sentence Unjustly is pronounced, my Lord: this blow Cuts your hand off; for his is none of yours: But _Violanta_'s given in Holy marriage Before she was delivered, consummated With the free Will of her Mother, by her Confessor, In Lord _Benvoglio_'s house.

_Ger._ Alas good Aunt, That helps us nothing; else I had reveal'd it.

_Duke._ What woman's this?

_Ben._ A base confederate In this proceeding, kept of alms long time By him; who now expos'd to misery, Talks thus distractedly. Attach her, Guard.

_Ran._ Your cruelty (brother) will have end.

_Cor._ You'd best Let them attach my tongue.

_Duke._ Good woman, peace: For were this truth, it doth not help thy Nephew; The Law's infring'd by their disparity, That forfeits both their lives.

_Cor._ Sir, with your pardon, Had your Grace ever children?

_Duke._ Thou hast put A question, whose sharp point toucheth my heart: I had two little Sons, twins, who were both (With my good Dutchess) slain, as I did hear; At that time when my Dukedom was surpriz'd.

_Cor._ I have heard many say (my gracious Lord) That I was wondrous like her.

_All._ Ha?

_Duke._ By all mans joy, it is _Cornelia_, My dearest wife.

_Cor._ To ratifie me her, Come down, _Alphonso_, one of those two twins, And take thy Fathers blessing: thou hast broke No Law, thy birth being above thy wives: _Ascanio_ is the other, nam'd _Fernando_, Who by remote means, to my Lord _Benvoglio_ I got preferr'd; and in poor habits clad, (You fled, and th' innovation laid again) I wrought my self into _Randulpho_'s service, With my eldest boy; yet never durst reveal What they and I were, no, not to themselves, Until the Tyrants death.

_Duke._ My joy has fill'd me Like a full-winded sail: I cannot speak.

_Ger._ Fetch _Violanta_ and my brother.

_Ben._ Run, Run like a spout, you rogue: a ---- o' poison, That little whore I trusted, will betray me. Stay, hangman, I have work for you; there's Gold; Cut off my head, or hang me presently.

_Soft Musick._

_Enter_ Angelina _with the bodies of_ Ferdinand _and_ Violanta _on a bier_; Dorothea _carrying the Cup and Letter, which she gives to the Duke: he reads, seems sorrowful; shews it to_ Cornelia _and_ Gerrard: _they lament over the bier_. Randulpho _and_ Benvoglio _seem fearful, and seem to report to_ Angelina _and_ Dorothea, _what hath passed before_.

_Ran._ This is your rashness, brother.

_Duke._ Oh joy, thou wert too great to last; This was a cruel turning to our hopes, Unnatural Father: poor _Ascanio_.

_Ger._ Oh mother! let me be _Gerrard_ again, And follow _Violanta_.

_Cor._ Oh my Son--

_Duke._ Your lives yet, bloudy men shall answer this.

_Dor._ I must not see 'em longer grieve. My Lord, Be comforted; let sadness generally Forsake each eye and bosom; they both live: For poison, I infus'd meer _Opium_; Holding compulsive perjury less sin Than such a loathed murther would have bin.

_All._ Oh blessed Ma[iden].

_Dor._ Musick, gently creep Into their ears, and fright hence lazy sleep. _Morpheus_, command thy servant sleep In leaden chains no longer keep This Prince and Lady: Rise, wake, rise, And round about convey your eyes: Rise Prince, go greet thy Father and thy Mother; Rise thou, t'imbrace thy Husband and thy Brother.

_Duke Cor._ Son, Daughter.

_Ferd._ Father, Mother, Brother.

_Ger._ Wife.

_Viol._ Are we not all in Heaven?

_Ger._ Faith, very near it.

_Ferd._ How can this be?

_Duke._ Hear it.

_Dor._ If I had serv'd you right, I should have seen Your old pate off, e'r I had reveald.

_Ben._ Oh wench! Oh honest wench! if my wife die, I'll marry thee: There's my reward.

_Ferd._ 'Tis true.

_Duke._ 'Tis very strange.

_Ger._ Why kneel you honest Master?

_Ferd._ My good Lord.

_Ger._ Dear Mother.

_Duke._ Rise, rise, all are friends: I owe ye for all their boards: And wench, take thou the man Whose life thou sav'dst; less cannot pay the merit. How shall I part my kiss? I cannot: Let One generally therefore joyn our cheeks. A pen of Iron, and a leaf of Brass, To keep this Story to Eternity: And a _Promethean Wit_. Oh sacred Love, Nor chance, nor death can thy firm truth remove. [_Exeunt._

_King._ Now _Isabella_. [_Flourish._

_Isab._ This can true Love do. I joy they all so happily are pleas'd: The Ladies and the Brothers must triumph.

_King._ They do: For _Cupid_ scorns but t' have his triumph too. [_Flourish._

_The_ TRIUMPH.

_Enter divers Musicians, then certain Singers bearing Bannerets_ _inscribed, Truth, Loyalty, Patience, Concord: Next_ Gerrard _and_ Ferdinand _with Garlands of Roses: Then_ Violanta, _Last, a Chariot drawn by two_ Cupids, _and a_ Cupid _sitting in it_. [Flourish.

_Enter_ PROLOGUE.

_Love, and the strength of fair affection_ _(Most royal Sir) what long seem'd lost, have won_ _Their perfect ends, and crown'd those constant hearts_ _With lasting Triumph, whose most virtuous parts,_ _Worthy desires, and love, shall never end._ _Now turn we round the Scæne, and (Great Sir) lend_ _A sad and serious eye to this of Death,_ _This black and dismal Triumph; where man's breath,_ _Desert, and guilty bloud ascend the Stage,_ _And view the Tyrant, ruind in his rage._ [Exit.

[Flourish.

_Enter_ L'avall, Gabriella _and_ Maria.

_Gab._ No, good my Lord, I am not now to find Your long neglect of me; All those affections You came first clad in to my love, like Summer, Lusty and full of life: all those desires That like the painted Spring bloom'd round about ye, Giving the happy promise of an Harvest, How have I seen drop off, and fall forgotten! With the least lustre of anothers beauty, How oft (forgetful Lord) have I been blast[e]d! Was I so eas'ly won? or did this body Yield to your false embraces with less labour Then if you had carried some strong Town?

_Lav._ Good _Gabriella_.

_Gab._ Could all your subtilties and sighs betray me. The vows ye shook me with, the tears ye drown'd me, Till I came fairly off with honor'd Marriage? Oh fie, my Lord.

_Lav._ Prethee good _Gabriella_.

_Gab._ Would I had never known ye, nor your honors, They are stuck too full of griefs: oh happy women, That plant your Love in equal honest bosoms, Whose sweet desires like Roses set together, Make one another happy in their blushes, Growing and dying without sense of greatness, To which I am a slave! [and] that blest Sacrament That daily makes millions of happy mothers, link'd me To this man's Lust alone, there left me. I dare not say I am his wife, 'tis dangerous: His Love, I cannot say: alas, how many?

_Lav._ You grow too warm; pray [ye be] content, you best know, The times necessity, and how our marriage Being so much unequal to mine honor, While the Duke lives, I standing high in favour; And whilst I keep that safe, next to the Dukedom, Must not be known, without my utter ruine. Have patience for a while, and do but dream wench, The glory of a Dutchess. How she tires me! How dull and leaden is my appetite To that stale beauty now! oh, I could curse And crucifie my self for childish doating Upon a face that feeds not with fresh Figures Every fresh hour: she is now a surfet to me.

_Enter_ Gentille.

Who's that? _Gentille?_ I charge ye, no acquaintance You nor your Maid with him, nor no discourse Till times are riper.

_Gent._ Fie, my Noble Lord, Can you be now a stranger to the Court, When your most virtuous Bride, the beauteous _Hellena_ Stands ready like a Star to gild your happiness, When _Hymens_ lusty fires are now a lighting, And all the Flower of _Anjou_?

_Lav._ Some few trifles, For matter of adornment, have a little Made me so slow, _Gentille_, which now in readiness, I am for Court immediately.

_Gent._ Take heed, Sir, This is no time for trifling, nor she no Lady To be now entertain'd with toys: 'twill cost ye--

_Lav._ Y'are an old Cock, _Gentille_.

_Gent._ By your Lordships favour.

_Lav._ Prethee away; 'twill lose time.

_Gent._ Oh my Lord, Pardon me that by all means.

_Lav._ We have business A-foot man, of more moment.

_Gent._ Then my manners? I know none, nor I seek none.

_Lav._ Take to morrow.

_Gent._ Even now, by your Lordships leave. Excellent Beauty. My service here I ever dedicate, In honor of my best friend, your dead Father, To you his living virtue, and wish heartily, That firm affection that made us two happy, May take as deep undying root, and flourish Betwixt my Daughter _Casta_, and your goodness, Who shall be still your servant.

_Gab._ I much thank ye.

_Lav._ ---- [o'] this dreaming puppy. Will ye go, Sir?

_Gent._ A little more, Good Lord.

_Lav._ Not now, by---- Come, I must use ye.

_Gent._ Goodness dwell still with you. [_Exeunt Gentill and Laval._