SCENE III.

_The balcony of_ ISABELLA'S _house at Pavia_.

_Enter_ ISABELLA _raving,[275] and_ ANNA.

_Isa._ Out, screech-owl, messenger of my revenge's death! Thou dost belie Gniaca; 'tis not so.

_Ann._ Upon mine honesty, they are united.

_Isa._ Thy honesty?--thou vassal to my pleasure, Take that!

[_Strikes her._

Darest thou control me when I say no? Art not my footstool--did not I create thee, And made thee gentle, being born a beggar? Thou hast been my woman's pander for a crown, And dost thou stand upon thy honesty? 10

_Ann._ I am what you please, madam; yet 'tis so.

_Isa._ Slave, I will slit thy tongue, 'less thou say no!

_Ann._ No, no, no, madam.

_Isa._ I have my humour, though thy[276] _no_ be false. Faint-hearted coward, get thee from my sight! When,[277] villain? Haste, and come not near me.

_Ann._ Madam, I run;--her sight like death doth fear me.

[_Exit._

_Isa._ Perfidious cowards, stain of nobility! Venetians, and be reconciled with words! O that I had Gniaca once more here, 20 Within this prison made of flesh and bone, I'd not trust thunder with my fell revenge, But mine own hands should do the dire exploit, And fame should chronicle a woman's acts! My rage respects the persons, not the facts: Their place and worths hath power to defame me; Mean hate is stingless, and does only name me: I not regard it. 'Tis high blood that swells, Give me revenge, and damn me into hells!

_Enter_ DON SAGO, _a Coronel,_[278] _with a band of_ Soldiers _and a_ Lieutenant.

A gallant Spaniard, I will hear him speak; 30 Grief must be speechless, ere the heart can break!

_Sago._ Lieutenant, let good discipline be used In quart'ring of our troops within the city-- Not separated into many streets. That shows weak love, but not sound policy: Division in small numbers makes all weak; Forces united are the nerves of war. Mother and nurse of observation-- Whose rare ingenious sprite fills all the world, By looking on itself with piercing eyes-- 40 Will look through strangers' imbecilities. Therefore be careful.

_Lie._ All shall be order'd fitting your command, For these three gifts which makes a soldier rare, Is love and duty with a valiant care.

[_Exeunt_ Lieutenant _and_ Soldiers.

_Sago._ What rarity[279] of women feeds my sight, And leads my senses in a maze of wonder?

[_Sees_ ISABELLA.

Bellona, Thou wert my mistress till I saw that shape; But now my sword I'll consecrate to her, 50 Leave Mars and become Cupid's martialist. Beauty can turn the rugged face of War, And make him smile upon delightful Peace, Courting her smoothly like a femalist. I grow a slave unto my potent[280] love, Whose power change[281] hearts, make our fate remove.

_Isa._ Revenge, not pleasure, now o'er-rules my blood; Rage shall drown faint love in a crimson flood; And were he caught, I'd make him murder's hand!

_Sago._ Methinks 'twere joy to die at her command. 60 I'll speak to hear her speech, whose powerful breath Is able to infuse life into death.

_Isa._ He comes to speak: he's mine; by love he is mine!

_Sago._ Lady, think bold intrusion courtesy; 'Tis but imagination alters them; Then 'tis your thoughts, not I, that do offend.

_Isa._ Sir, your intrusion yet 's but courtesy, Unless your future humour alter it.

_Sago._ Why then, divinest woman, know my soul Is dedicated to thy shrine of beauty, 70 To pray for mercy, and repent the wrongs Done against love and female purity. Thou abstract, drawn from nature's empty storehouse, I am thy slave; command my sword, my heart; The soul is tried best by the body's smart.

_Isa._ You are a stranger to this land and me. What madness is't for me to trust you then? To cozen women is a trade 'mongst men; Smooth promises, faint passions, with a lie, Deceives our sex[282] of fame and chastity. 80 What danger durst you hazard for my love?

_Sago._ Perils that ever mortal durst approve. I'll double all the works of Hercules, Expose myself in combat against an host, Meet danger in a place of certain death, Yet never shrink, or give way to my fate; Bare-breasted meet the murderous Tartar's dart, Or any fatal engine made for death: Such power has love and beauty from your eye,[283] He that dies resolute does never die! 90 'Tis fear gives death his strength, which I resisted, Death is but empty air the fates have twisted.

_Isa._ Dare you revenge my quarrel 'gainst a foe?

_Sago._ Then ask me if I dare embrace you thus, Or kiss your hand, or gaze on your bright eye, Where Cupid dances on those globes of love! Fear is my vassal; when I frown he flies; A hundred times in life a coward dies![284]

_Isa._ I not suspect your valour, but your will. 99

_Sago._ To gain your love my father's blood I'll spill.

_Isa._ Many have sworn the like, yet broke their vow.

_Sago._ My whole endeavour to your wish shall bow; I am your plague to scourge your enemies.

_Isa._ Perform your promise, and enjoy your pleasure; Spend my love's dowry, that is women's treasure; But if thy resolution dread the trial, I'll tell the world a Spaniard was disloyal.

_Sago._ Relate your grief; I long to hear their names Whose bastard spirits thy true worth defames. I'll wash thy scandal off when their hearts bleeds; 110 Valour makes difference betwixt words and deeds. Tell thy fame's poison, blood shall wash thee white.

_Isa._ My spotless honour is a slave to spite. These are the monsters Venice doth bring forth, Whose empty souls are bankrupt of true worth: False Count Guido,[285] treacherous Gniaca, Counties[286] of Gazia, and of rich Massino. Then, if thou beest a knight, help the oppress'd; Through danger safety comes, through trouble rest. And so my love---- 120

_Sago._ Ignoble villains! their best blood shall prove, Revenge falls heavy that is raised by love!

_Isa._ Think what reproach is to a woman's name, Honour'd by birth, by marriage, and by beauty; Be god on earth, and revenge innocence. O, worthy Spaniard, on my knees I beg, Forget the persons, think on their offence!

_Sago._ By the white soul of honour, by heav'n's Jove, They die if their death can attain your love! 129

_Isa._ Thus will I clip thy waist--embrace thee thus; Thus dally with thy hair, and kiss thee thus: Our pleasures, Protean-like, in sundry shapes Shall with variety stir dalliance.

_Sago._ I am immortal. O, divinest creature, Thou dost excel the gods in wit and feature! False counts, you die, revenge now shakes his rods; Beauty condemns you--stronger than the gods.

_Isa._ Come, Mars of lovers, Vulcan is not here; Make vengeance, like my bed, quite void of fear.

_Sago._ My senses are entranced, and in this slumber I taste heav'n's joys, but cannot count the number. 141

[_Exeunt ambo._

[275] Ed. 1631 "running."

[276] Old eds. "they now be false."

[277] Exclamation of impatience.

[278] Old form of _colonel_.

[279] Old eds. "rarietie." (The form _rariety_--which would here be unmetrical--is sometimes found. Cf. Heywood's _Golden Age_, act iii.:-- "Then to our palace Pass on in state: let all _rarieties_ Shower down from heaven a largess.")

[280] For "my potent" the editor of 1820 reads "omnipotent."

[281] Not unfrequently we find a plural verb following a singular subject.

[282] Ed. 1631 "sect" (a common form of "sex").

[283] Old ed. "eyes."

[284] Cf. _Jul. Cæs._ ii. 2:-- "Cowards die many times before their deaths: The valiant never taste of death but once."

[285] See note 2, p. 154. [Transcriber's Note: Footnote [187]]

[286] _i.e._ Counts.--Old eds. "Countesse."