'TIS PITY SHE'S A WHORE

John Ford

This page copyright © 2002 Blackmask Online.

http://www.blackmask.com

  • Dramatis Personae
  • Act 1.
  • Act 2
  • Act 3
  • Act 4
  • Act 5



  • Dramatis Personae





    BONAVENTURA      a friar.
    A CARDINAL         Nuncio to the Pope.
    SORANZO               a nobleman.
    FLORIO      }
    DONADO      }          citizens of Parma


    GRIMALDI            a Roman gentieman.
    GIOVANNI            son to FLORIO.
    BERGETTO            nephew to DONADO.
    RICBARDETTO         a supposed physician.
    VASQUES               servant to SORANZO.
    POGGIO               servant to BERGETTO.
    Banditti.


    ANNABELLA         daughter to FLORIO.
    HIPPOLITA            wife to RICUARDETTO.
    PHILOTIS               his niece.
    PUTANA               tutoress to ANNABELLA.


    Officers, Attendants, Servants etc.



    The Scene: Parma.





    Act 1.




    Scene 1.




    [Enter Friar and Giovanni.]


    Friar   Dispute no more in this; for know, young man,
    These are no school points; nice philosophy
    May tolerate unlikely arguments,
    But Heaven admits no jest: wits that presumed
    On wit too much, by striving how to prove
    There was no God, with foolish grounds of art,
    Discover'd first the nearest way to hell;
    And fill'd the world with devilish atheism.
    Such questions, youth, are fond: far better 'tis
    To bless the sun, than reason why it shines;
    Yet He thou talk'st of, is above the sun.—
    No more! I may not hear it.


    Gio.   Gentle father,
    To you I have unclasp'd my burden'd soul,
    Emptied the storehouse of my thoughts and heart,
    Made myself poor of secrets; have not left
    Another word untold, which hath not spoke
    All what I ever durst, or think, or know;
    And yet is here the comfort I shall have?
    Must I not do what all men else may,—love?


    Friar   Yes, you may love, fair son.


    Giovanni   Must I not praise
    That beauty, which, if fram'd anew, the gods
    Would make a god of, if they had it there;
    And kneel to it, as I do kneel to them?


    Friar   Why, foolish madman!—


    Giovanni   Shall a peevish sound,
    A customary form, from man to man,
    Of brother and of sister, be a bar
    'Twixt my perpetual happiness and me?
    Say that we had one father, say one womb
    (Curse to my joys!) gave both us life and birth;
    Are we not, therefore, each to other bound
    So much the more by nature? by the links
    Of blood, of reason? nay, if you will have it,
    Even of religion, to be ever one,
    One soul, one flesh, one love, one heart, one all?


    Friar   Have done, unhappy youth! for thou art lost.


    Giovanni   Shall, then, for that I am her brother born,
    My joys be ever banished from her bed?
    No, father; in your eyes I see the change
    Of pity and compassion; from your age,
    As from a sacred oracle, distils
    The life of counsel: tell me, holy man,
    What cure shall give me ease in these extremes?


    Friar   Repentance, son, and sorrow for this sin:
    For thou hast mov'd a Majesty above,
    With thy unranged (almost) blasphemy.


    Giovanni   Oh, do not speak of that, dear confessor.


    Friar   Art thou, my son, that miracle of wit,
    Who once, within these three months, wert esteem'd
    A wonder of thine age, throughout Bononia?
    How did the university applaud
    Thy government, behaviour, learning, speech,
    Sweetness, and all that could make up a man!
    I was proud of my tutelage, and chose
    Rather to leave my books, than part with thee;
    I did so:—but the fruits of all my hopes
    Are lost in thee, as thou art in thyself.
    O Giovanni! hast thou left the schools
    Of knowledge, to converse with lust and death?
    For death waits on thy lust. Look through the world,
    And thou shalt see a thousand faces shine
    More glorious than this idol thou ador'st:
    Leave her, and take thy choice, 'tis much less sin;
    Though in such games as those, they lose that win.


    Giovanni   It were more easy to stop the ocean
    From floats and ebbs, than to dissuade my vows.


    Friar   Then I have done, and in thy wilful flames
    Already see thy ruin; Heaven is just.—
    Yet hear my counsel.


    Giovanni   As a voice of life.


    Friar   Hie to thy father's house, there lock thee fast
    Alone within thy chamber; then fall down
    On both thy knees, and grovel on the ground;
    Cry to thy heart; wash every word thou utter'st
    In tears and—if 't be possible—of blood:
    Beg Heaven to cleanse the leprosy of lust
    That rots thy soul; acknowledge what thou art,
    A wretch, a worm, a nothing; weep, sigh, pray
    Three times a day, and three times every night:
    For seven days space do this; then, if thou find'st
    No change in thy desires, return to me;
    I'll think on remedy. Pray for thyself
    At home, whilst I pray for thee here.—Away!
    My blessing with thee! we have need to pray.


    Giovanni   All this I'll do, to free me from the rod
    Of vengeance; else I'll swear my fate's my god.


    [Exeunt.]



    Scene 2.




    [Enter Grimaldi and Vasques, with their swords drawn.]


    Vasques   Come, sir, stand to your tackling; if you prove craven, I'll make
    you run quickly.


    Grimaldi   Thou art no equal match for me.


    Vasques   Indeed I never went to the wars to bring home news; nor I cannot
    play the mountebank for a meal's meat, and swear I got my wounds in the
    field. See you these grey hairs? they'll not flinch for a bloody nose. Wilt
    thou to this gear?


    Grimaldi   Why, slave, think'st thou I'll balance my reputation with a cast-
    suit? Call thy master, he shall know that I dare—


    Vasques   Scold like a cot-quean: that's your profession. Thou poor shadow of
    a soldier, I will make thee know my master keeps servants, thy betters in
    quality and performance. Com'st thou to fight or prate?


    Grimaldi   Neither, with thee. I am a Roman and a gentleman; one that have
    got mine honour with expense of blood.


    Vasques   You are a lying coward, and a fool. Fight, or by these hilts I'll
    kill thee: brave my lord! You'll fight?


    Grimaldi   Provoke me not, for if thou dost—


    Vasques   Have at you.


    [They fight, Grimaldi is worsted.]
    [Enter Florio, Donado, and Soranzo, from opposite sides.]


    Florio   What mean these sudden broils so near my doors?
    Have you not other places, but my house,
    To vent the spleen of your disorder'd bloods?
    Must I be haunted still with such unrest,
    As not to eat, or sleep in peace at home?
    Is this your love, Grimaldi? Fie! 'tis naught.


    Donado   And, Vasques, I may tell thee, 'tis not well
    To broach these quarrels; you are ever forward
    In seconding contentions.


    [Enter above Annabella and Putana.]


    Florio   What's the ground?


    Soranzo   That, with your patience, signiors, I'll resolve:
    This gentleman, whom fame reports a soldier,
    (For else I know not) rivals me in love
    To Signior Florio's daughter; to whose ears
    He still prefers his suit, to my disgrace;
    Thinking the way to recommend himself
    Is to disparage me in his report.—
    But know, Grimaldi, though, maybe, thou art
    My equal in thy blood, yet this betrays
    A lowness in thy mind; which, wert thou noble,
    Thou would'st as much disdain, as I do thee
    For this unworthiness; and on this ground
    I will'd my servant to correct his tongue,
    Holding a man so base no match for me.


    Vasques   And had not your sudden coming prevented us, I had let my gentleman
    blood under the gills; I should have worm'd you, sir, for running mad.


    Grimaldi   I'll be reveng'd, Soranzo.


    Vasques   On a dish of warm broth to stay your stomach—do, honest
    innocence, do! spoon-meat is a wholesomer diet than a Spanish blade.


    Grimaldi   Remember this!


    [Exit.]


    Soranzo   I fear thee not, Grimaldi.


    Florio   My Lord Soranzo, this is strange to me;
    Why you should storm, having my word engaged:
    Owing her heart, what need you doubt her ear?
    Losers may talk, by law of any game.


    Vasques   Yet the villainy of words, Signior Florio, may be such, as would
    make any unspleened dove choleric. Blame not my lord in this.


    Florio   Be you more silent;
    I would not for my wealth, my daughter's love
    Should cause the spilling of one drop of blood.
    Vasques, put up: let's end this fray in wine.


    [Exeunt.]


    Putana   How like you this, child? here's threatening, challenging,
    quarrelling, and fighting, on every side, and all is for your sake; you had
    need look to yourself, charge, you'll be stolen away sleeping else shortly.


    Annabella   But, tutoress, such a life gives no content
    To me, my thoughts are fix'd on other ends.
    Would you would leave me!


    Putana   Leave you! no marvel else; leave me no leaving, charge: this is love
    outright. Indeed, I blame you not; you have choice fit for the best lady in
    Italy.


    Annabella   Pray do not talk so much.


    Putana   Take the worst with the best, there's Grimaldi the soldier, a very
    well-timber'd fellow. They say he's a Roman, nephew to the Duke
    Montferrato; they say he did good service in the wars against the Milanese;
    but, 'faith, charge, I do not like him, an 't be for nothing but for being
    a soldier: not one amongst twenty of your skirmishing captains but have
    some privy maim or other, that mars their standing upright. I like him the
    worse, he crinkles so much in the hams: though he might serve if there were
    no more men, yet he's not the man I would choose.


    Annabella   Fie, how thou prat'st!


    Putana   As I am a very woman, I like Signior Soranzo well; he is wise, and
    what is more, rich; and what is more than that, kind; and what is more than
    all this, a nobleman: such a one, were I the fair Annabella myself, I would
    wish and pray for. Then he is bountiful; besides, he is handsome, and by my
    troth, I think, wholesome, and that's news in a gallant of three-and-
    twenty: liberal, that I know; loving, that you know; and a man sure, else
    he could never have purchased such a good name with Hippolita, the lusty
    widow, in her husband's lifetime. An 'twere but for that report,
    sweetheart, would he were thine! Commend a man for his qualities, but take
    a husband as he is a plain, sufficient, naked man; such a one is for your
    bed, and such a one is Signior Soranzo, my life for 't.


    Annabella   Sure the woman took her morning's draught too soon.


    [Enter Bergetto and Poggio.]


    Putana   But look, sweetheart, look what thing comes now! Here's another of
    your ciphers to fill up the number: Oh, brave old ape in a silken coat!
    Observe.


    Bergetto   Didst thou think, Poggio, that I would spoil my new clothes, and
    leave my dinner, to fight!


    Poggio   No, sir, I did not take you for so arrant a baby.


    Bergetto   I am wiser than so: for I hope, Poggio, thou never heard'st of an
    elder brother that was a coxcomb; didst, Poggio?


    Poggio   Never indeed, sir, as long as they had either land or money left
    them to inherit.


    Bergetto   Is it possible, Poggio? Oh, monstrous! Why, I'll undertake, with a
    handful of silver, to buy a headful of wit at any time: but, sirrah, I have
    another purchase in hand; I shall have the wench, mine uncle says. I will
    but wash my face, and shift socks; and then have at her, i' faith. —Mark
    my pace, Poggio!


    [Passes over the stage.]


    Poggio   Sir,—I have seen an ass and a mule trot the Spanish pavin with a
    better grace, I know not how often.


    Annabella   [Aside, and following him.] This idiot haunts me too.


    Putana   Ay, ay, he needs no description. The rich magnifico that is below
    with your father, charge, Signior Donado, his uncle, for that he means to
    make this, his cousin, a golden calf, thinks that you will be a right
    Israelite, and fall down to him presently: but I hope I have tutored you
    better. They say a fool's bauble is a lady's play-fellow; yet you, having
    wealth enough, you need not cast upon the dearth of flesh, at any rate.
    Hang him, innocent!


    [Giovanni passes over the stage.]


    Annabella   But see, Putana, see! what blessed shape
    Of some celestial creature now appears!—
    What man is he, that with such sad aspect
    Walks careless of himself?


    Putana   Where?


    Annabella   Look below.


    Putana   Oh, 'tis your brother, sweet.


    Annabella   Ha!


    Putana   'Tis your brother.


    Annabella   Sure 'tis not he; this is some woeful thing
    Wrapp'd up in grief, some shadow of a man.
    Alas! he beats his breast, and wipes his eyes,
    Drown'd all in tears: methinks I hear him sigh;
    Let's down, Putana, and partake the cause.
    I know my brother, in the love he bears me,
    Will not deny me partage in his sadness;
    My soul is full of heaviness and fear.


    [Exit with Putana.]



    Scene 3.




    Giovanni   Lost! I am lost! my fates have doom'd my death:
    The more I strive, I love; the more I love,
    The less I hope: I see my ruin certain.
    What judgment or endeavours could apply
    To my incurable and restless wounds,
    I thoroughly have examined, but in vain.
    Oh, that it were not in religion sin
    To make our love a god, and worship it!
    I have even wearied heaven with pray'rs, dried up
    The spring of my continual tears, even starv'd
    My veins with daily fasts: what wit or art
    Could counsel, I have practised; but, alas!
    I find all these but dreams, and old men's tales,
    To fright unsteady youth; I am still the same:
    Or I must speak, or burst. 'Tis not, I know,
    My lust, but 'tis my fate, that leads me on.
    Keep fear and low faint-hearted shame with slaves!
    I'll tell her that I love her, though my heart
    Were rated at the price of that attempt.
    Oh me! she comes.


    [Enter Annabella and Putana.]


    Annabella   Brother!


    Giovanni   [Aside.] If such a thing
    As courage dwell in men, ye heavenly powers,
    Now double all that virtue in my tongue!


    Annabella   Why, brother,
    Will you not speak to me?


    Giovanni   Yes; how do you, sister?


    Annabella   Howe'er I am, methinks you are not well.


    Putana   Bless us! why are you so sad, sir?


    Giovanni   Let me entreat you, leave us a while, Putana.
    Sister, I would be private with you.


    Annabella   Withdraw, Putana.


    Putana   I will.-[Aside] If this were any other company for her, I should
    think my absence an office of some credit; but I will leave them together.


    [Exit.]


    Giovanni   Come, sister, lend your hand; let's walk together;
    I hope you need not blush to walk with me;
    Here's none but you and I.


    Annabella   How's this?


    Giovanni   I ' faith, I mean no harm.


    Annabella   Harm?


    Giovanni   No, good faith.
    How is it with thee?


    Annabella   [Aside.] I trust he be not frantic.—
    [Aloud] I am very well, brother.


    Giovanni   Trust me, but I am sick; I fear so sick,
    'Twill cost my life.


    Annabella   Mercy forbid it! 'tis not so, I hope.


    Giovanni   I think you love me, sister.


    Annabella   Yes, you know I do.


    Giovanni   I know it, indeed—you are very fair.


    Annabella   Nay, then I see you have a merry sickness.


    Giovanni   That's as it proves. The poets feign, I read,
    That Juno for her forehead did exceed
    All other goddesses; but I durst swear
    Your forehead exceeds hers, as hers did theirs.


    Annabella   'Troth, this is pretty.


    Giovanni   Such a pair of stars
    As are thine eyes, would, like Promethean fire,
    If gently glanced, give life to senseless stones.


    Annabella   Fie upon you!


    Giovanni   The lily and the rose, most sweetly strange,
    Upon your dimple cheeks do strive for change:
    Such lips would tempt a saint: such hands as those
    Would make an anchorite lascivious.


    Annabella   Do you mock me, or flatter me?


    Giovanni   If you would see a beauty more exact
    Than art can counterfeit, or nature frame,
    Look in your glass, and there behold your own.


    Annabella   Oh, you are a trim youth!


    Giovanni   Here!—


    [Offers his dagger to her.]


    Annabella   What to do?


    Giovanni   And here's my breast; strike home!
    Rip up my bosom, there thou shalt behold
    A heart, in which is writ the truth I speak
    Why stand you?


    Annabella   Are you earnest?


    Giovanni   Yes, most earnest.
    You cannot love?


    Annabella   Whom?


    Giovanni   Me. My tortured soul
    Hath felt affliction in the heat of death.
    Oh, Annabella, I am quite undone!
    The love of thee, my sister, and the view
    Of thy immortal beauty, have untuned
    All harmony both of my rest and life.
    Why do you not strike?


    Annabella   Forbid it, my just fears!
    If this be true, 'twere fitter I were dead.


    Giovanni   True! Annabella; 'tis no time to jest.
    I have too long suppressed my hidden flames,
    That almost have consum'd me; I have spent
    Many a silent night in sighs and groans;
    Ran over all my thoughts, despised my fate,
    Reason'd against the reasons of my love,
    Done all that smooth-cheek'd virtue could advise,
    But found all bootless: 'tis my destiny
    That you must either love, or I must die.


    Annabella   Comes this in sadness from you?


    Giovanni   Let some mischief
    Befall me soon, if I dissemble aught.


    Annabella   You are my brother Giovanni.


    Giovanni   You
    My sister Annabella; I know this.
    And could afford you instance why to love
    So much the more for this; to which intent
    Wise nature first in your creation meant
    To make you mine; else 't had been sin and foul
    To share one beauty to a double soul.
    Nearness in birth and blood, doth but persuade
    A nearer nearness in affection.
    I have ask'd counsel of the holy church,
    Who tells me I may love you; and, 'tis just,
    That, since I may, I should; and will, yes will:
    Must I now live, or die?


    Annabella   Live; thou hast won
    The field, and never fought: what thou hast urged,
    My captive heart had long ago resolv'd.
    I blush to tell thee,—but I'll tell thee now—
    For every sigh that thou hast spent for me,
    I have sigh'd ten; for every tear, shed twenty:
    And not so much for that I loved, as that
    I durst not say I loved, nor scarcely think it.


    Giovanni   Let not this music be a dream, ye gods,
    For pity's sake, I beg you!


    Annabella   On my knees, [She kneels.]
    Brother, even by our mother's dust, I charge you,
    Do not betray me to your mirth or hate;
    Love me, or kill me, brother.


    Giovanni   On my knees, [He kneels.]
    Sister, even by my mother's dust I charge you,
    Do not betray me to your mirth or hate;
    Love me, or kill me, sister.


    Annabella   You mean good sooth, then?


    Giovanni   In good troth, I do;
    And so do you, I hope: say, I'm in earnest.


    Annabella   I'll swear it, I.


    Giovanni   And I; and by this kiss, [Kisses her.]
    (Once more, yet once more; now let's rise) [They rise] by this,
    I would not change this minute for Elysium.
    What must we now do?


    Annabella   What you will.


    Giovanni   Come then;
    After so many tears as we have wept,
    Let's learn to court in smiles, to kiss, and sleep.


    [Exeunt.]



    Scene 4




    [Enter Florio and Donado.]


    Florio   Signior Donado, you have said enough,
    I understand you; but would have you know,
    I will not force my daughter 'gainst her will.
    You see I have but two, a son and her;
    And he is so devoted to his book,
    As I must tell you true, I doubt his health:
    Should he miscarry, all my hopes rely
    Upon my girl. As for worldly fortune,
    I am, I thank my stars, bless'd with enough.
    My care is, how to match her to her liking;
    I would not have her marry wealth, but love,
    And if she like your nephew, let him have her;
    Here's all that I can say.


    Donado   Sir, you say well,
       Like a true father; and, for my part, I,
       If the young folks can like, ('twixt you and me)
       Will promise to assure my nephew presently
       Three thousand florins yearly, during life.
    And, after I am dead, my whole estate.


    Florio   'Tis a fair proffer, sir; meantime your nephew
       Shall have free passage to commence his suit:
       If he can thrive, he shall have my consent;
       So for this time I'll leave you, signior.


    [Exit.]


    Donado   Well,
       Here's hope yet, if my nephew would have wit;
       But he is such another dunce, I fear
       He'll never win the wench. When I was young,
       I could have done 't, i' faith, and so shall he,
    If he will learn of me; and, in good time,
       He comes himself.—


    [Enter Bergetto and Poggio.]


    How now, Bergetto, whither away so fast?


    Bergetto   Oh, uncle! I have heard the strangest news that ever came out of
    the mint; have I not, Poggio?


    Poggio   Yes, indeed, sir.


    Donado   What news, Bergetto?


    Bergetto   Why, look ye, uncle, my barber told me just now, that there is a
    fellow come to town, who undertakes to make a mill go without the mortal
    help of any water or wind, only with sandbags; and this fellow hath a
    strange horse, a most excellent beast, I'll assure you, uncle, my barber
    says; whose head, to the wonder of all Christian people, stands just behind
    where his tail is. Is 't not true, Poggio?


    Poggio   So the barber swore, forsooth.


    Donado   And you are running thither?


    Bergetto   Ay, forsooth, uncle.


    Donado   Wilt thou be a fool still? Come, sir, you shall not go; you have
    more mind of a puppet-play than on the business I told you: why, thou great
    baby, wilt never have wit? wilt make thyself a May-game to all the world?


    Poggio   Answer for yourself, master.


    Bergetto   Why, uncle, should I sit at home still, and not go abroad to see
    fashions like other gallants?


    Donado   To see hobby-horses! what wise talk, I pray, had you with Annabella,
    when you were at Signior Florio's house?


    Bergetto   Oh, the wench!—Uds sa'me, uncle, I tickled her with a rare
    speech, that I made her almost burst her belly with laughing.


    Donado   Nay, I think so; and what speech was 't?


    Bergetto   What did I say, Poggio?


    Poggio   Forsooth, my master said, that he loved her almost as well as he
    loved parmasent; and swore (I'll be sworn for him) that she wanted but such
    a nose as his was, to be as pretty a young woman as any was in Parma.


    Donado   Oh, gross!


    Bergetto   Nay, uncle;—then she ask'd me, whether my father had more
    children than myself? and I said no; 'twere better he should have had his
    brains knock'd out first.


    Donado   This is intolerable.


    Bergetto   Then said she, will Signior Donado, your uncle, leave you all his
    wealth?


    Donado   Ha! that was good; did she harp upon that string?


    Bergetto   Did she harp upon that string! ay, that she did. I answered,
    “Leave me all his wealth? why, woman, he hath no other wit; if he had, he
    should hear on 't to his everlasting glory and confusion: I know", quoth I,
    “I am his white boy, and will not be gull'd”; and with that she fell into a
    great smile, and went away. Nay, I did fit her.


    Donado   Ah, sirrah, then I see there's no changing of nature. Well,
    Bergetto, I fear thou wilt be a very ass still.


    Bergetto   I should be sorry for that, uncle.


    Donado   Come, come you home with me: since you are no better a speaker, I'll
    have you write to her after some courtly manner, and enclose some rich
    jewel in the letter.


    Bergetto   Ay marry, that will be excellent.


    Donado   Peace, innocent!
       Once in my time I'll set my wits to school,
    If all fail, 'tis but the fortune of a fool.


    Bergetto   Poggio, 'twill do, Poggio!


    [Exeunt.]



    Act 2


    Scene 1


    [Enter Giovanni and Annabella.]


    Giovanni   Come, Annabella, no more Sister now,
    But Love, a name more gracious; do not blush,
    Beauty's sweet wonder, but be proud to know
    That yielding thou hast conquer'd, and inflamed
    A heart, whose tribute is thy brother's life.


    Annabella   And mine is his. Oh, how these stolen contents
    Would print a modest crimson on my cheeks,
    Had any but my heart's delight prevail'd!


    Giovanni   I marvel why the chaster of your sex
    Should think this pretty toy call'd maidenhead,
    So strange a loss; when, being lost, 'tis nothing,
    And you are still the same.


    Annabella   'Tis well for you;
    Now you can talk.


    Giovanni   Music as well consists
    In th' ear, as in the playing.


    Annabella   Oh, you are wanton!—
    Tell on 't, you were best; do.


    Giovanni   Thou wilt chide me then.
    Kiss me—so! thus hung Jove on Leda's neck,
    And suck'd divine ambrosia from her lips.
    I envy not the mightiest man alive;
    But hold myself, in being king of thee,
    More great than were I king of all the world:
    But I shall lose you, sweetheart.


    Annabella   But you shall not.


    Giovanni   You must be married, mistress.


    Annabella   Yes! to whom?


    Giovanni   Some one must have you.


    Annabella   You must.


    Giovanni   Nay, some other.


    Annabella   Now prithee do not speak so; without jesting
    You'll make me weep in earnest.


    Giovanni   What, you will not!
    But tell me, sweet, canst thou be dared to swear
    That thou wilt live to me, and to no other?


    Annabella   By both our loves I dare; for didst thou know,
    My Giovanni, how all suitors seem
    To my eyes hateful, thou wouldst trust me then.


    Giovanni   Enough, I take thy word: sweet, we must part;
    Remember what thou vow'st; keep well my heart.


    Annabella   Will you be gone?


    Giovanni   I must.


    Annabella   When to return?


    Giovanni   Soon.


    Annabella   Look you do.


    Giovanni   Farewell.


    [Exit.]


    Annabella   Go where thou wilt, in mind I'll keep thee here,
    And where thou art, I know I shall be there.
    Guardian!


    [Enter Putana.]


    Putana   Child, how is 't, child? well, thank heav'n, ha?


    Annabella   Oh, guardian, what a paradise of joy
    Have I passed over!


    Putana   Nay, what a paradise of joy have you passed under! why, now I
    commend thee, charge. Fear nothing, sweetheart; what though he be your
    brother? your brother's a man, I hope; and I say still, if a young wench
    feel the fit upon her, let her take anybody, father or brother, all is one.


    Annabella   I would not have it known for all the world.


    Putana   Nor I indeed; for the speech of the people; else 'twere nothing.


    Florio   [Within.] Daughter Annabella!


    Annabella   Oh, me! my father, Here, sir:—reach my work.


    Florio   [Within.] What are you doing?


    Annabella   So; let him come now.


    [Enter Florio, followed by Richardetto as a Doctor of Physic, and Philotis,
    with a lute.]


    Florio   So hard at work! that's well; you lose no time.
    Look, I have brought you company; here's one,
    A learned doctor, lately come from Padua,
    Much skill'd in physic; and, for that I see
    You have of late been sickly, I entreated
    This reverend man to visit you some time.


    Annabella   You are very welcome, sir.


    Richardetto   I thank you, mistress:
    Loud fame in large report hath spoke your praise,
    As well for virtue as perfection;
    For which I have been bold to bring with me
    A kinswoman of mine, a maid, for song
    And music, one perhaps will give content;
    Please you to know her.


    Annabella   They are parts I love,
    And she for them most welcome.


    Philotis   Thank you, lady.


    Florio   Sir, now you know my house, pray make not strange;
    And if you find my daughter need your art,
    I'll be your paymaster.


    Richardetto   Sir, what I am
    She shall command.


    Florio   You shall bind me to you.
    Daughter, I must have conference with you
    About some matters that concern us both.
    Good master doctor, please you but walk in,
    We'll crave a little of your cousin's cunning;
    I think my girl hath not quite forgot
    To touch an instrument; she could have done 't;
    We'll hear them both.


    Richardetto   I'll wait upon you, sir.


    [Exeunt.]



    Scene 2




    [Enter Soranzo, with a book.]


    Soranzo   [Reads.]
    “Love's measure is extreme, the comfort pain;
    The life unrest, and the reward disdain.”


    What's here? Look 't o'er again.—'Tis so; so writes
    This smooth licentious poet in his rhymes:
    But, Sannazar, thou ly'st; for, had thy bosom
    Felt such oppression as is laid on mine,
    Thou wouldst have kiss'd the rod that made the[e] smart.
    To work then, happy muse, and contradict
    What Sannazar hath in his envy writ.


    [Writes.]
    “Love's measure is the mean, sweet his annoys;
    His pleasures life, and his reward all joys.”


    Had Annabella liv'd when Sannazar
    Did, in his brief Encomium, celebrate
    Venice, that queen of cities, he had left
    That verse which gain'd him such a sum of gold,
    And for one only look from Annabel,
    Had writ of her, and her diviner cheeks.
    Oh, how my thoughts are


    Vasques   [Within.] Pray forbear; in rules of civility, let me give notice on
    't: I shall be tax'd of my neglect of duty and service.


    Soranzo   What rude intrusion interrupts my peace?
    Can I be nowhere private?


    Vasques   [Within.] Troth, you wrong your modesty.


    Soranzo   What's the matter, Vasques? who is 't?


    [Enter Hippolita and Vasques.]


    Hippolita   'Tis I;
    Do you know me now? Look, perjur'd man, on her
    Whom thou and thy distracted lust have wrong'd.
    Thy sensual rage of blood hath made my youth
    A scorn to men and angels; and shall I
    Be now a foil to thy unsated change?
    Thou know'st, false wanton, when my modest fame
    Stood free from stain or scandal, all the charms
    Of hell or sorcery could not prevail
    Against the honour of my chaster bosom.
    Thine eyes did plead in tears, thy tongue in oaths,
    Such, and so many, that a heart of steel
    Would have been wrought to pity, as was mine;
    And shall the conquest of my lawful bed,
    My husband's death, urg'd on by his disgrace,
    My loss of womanhood, be ill-rewarded
    With hatred and contempt? No; know, Soranzo,
    I have a spirit doth as much distaste
    The slavery of fearing thee, as thou
    Dost loathe the memory of what hath passed.


    Soranzo   Nay, dear Hippolita


    Hippolita   Call me not dear,
    Nor think with supple words to smooth the grossness
    Of my abuses; 'tis not your new mistress,
    Your goodly madam-merchant, shall triumph
    On my dejection; tell her thus from me,
    My birth was nobler, and by much more free.


    Soranzo   You are too violent.


    Hippolita   You are too double
    In your dissimulation. Seest thou this,
    This habit, these black mourning weeds of care?
    'Tis thou art cause of this; and hast divorced
    My husband from his life, and me from him,
    And made me widow in my widowhood.


    Soranzo   Will you yet hear?


    Hippolita   More of thy perjuries?
    Thy soul is drown'd too deeply in those sins;
    Thou need'st not add to th' number.


    Soranzo   Then I'll leave you;
    You are past all rules of sense.


    Hippolita   And thou of grace.


    Vasques   Fie, mistress, you are not near the limits of reason; if my lord
    had a resolution as noble as virtue itself, you take the course to unedge
    it all. Sir, I beseech you do not perplex her; griefs, alas, will have a
    vent: I dare undertake Madam Hippolita will now freely hear you.


    Soranzo   Talk to a woman frantic!—Are these the fruits of your love?


    Hippolita   They are the fruits of thy untruth, false man!
    Didst thou not swear, whilst yet my husband liv'd,
    That thou wouldst wish no happiness on earth
    More than to call me wife? didst thou not vow,
    When he should die, to marry me? for which
    The devil in my blood, and thy protests,
    Caus'd me to counsel him to undertake
    A voyage to Ligorne, for that we heard
    His brother there was dead, and left a daughter
    Young and unfriended, whom, with much ado,
    I wish'd him to bring hither: he did so,
    And went; and, as thou know'st, died on the way.
    Unhappy man, to buy his death so dear,
    With my advice! yet thou, for whom I did it,
    Forget'st thy vows, and leav'st me to my shame.


    Soranzo   Who could help this?


    Hippolita   Who? perjur'd man! thou couldst,
    If thou hadst faith or love.


    Soranzo   You are deceived:
    The vows I made, if you remember well,
    Were wicked and unlawful; 'twere more sin
    To keep them than to break them: as for me,
    I cannot mask my penitence. Think thou
    How much thou hast digress'd from honest shame,
    In bringing of a gentleman to death,
    Who was thy husband; such a one as he,
    So noble in his quality, condition,
    Learning, behaviour, entertainment, love,
    As Parma could not show a braver man.


    Vasques   You do not well; this was not your promise.


    Soranzo   I care not; let her know her monstrous life.
    Ere I'll be servile to so black a sin,
    I'll be a curse.—Woman, come here no more;
    Learn to repent, and die; for by my honour,
    I hate thee and thy lust: you have been too foul.


    [Exit.]


    Vasques   [Aside.] This part has been scurvily play'd.


    Hippolita   [Going.] How foolishly this beast contemns his fate,
    And shuns the use of that which I more scorn
    Than I once lov'd, his love! but let him go,
    My vengeance shall give comfort to his woe.


    Vasques   Mistress, mistress, Madam Hippolita; pray, a word or two.


    Hippolita   With me, sir?


    Vasques   With you, if you please.


    Hippolita   What is 't?


    Vasques   I know you are infinitely moved now, and you think you have cause;
    some I confess you have, but sure not so much as you imagine.


    Hippolita   Indeed!


    Vasques   Oh, you were miserably bitter, which you followed even to the last
    syllable; 'faith, you were somewhat too shrewd: by my life, you could not
    have took my lord in a worse time since I first knew him; tomorrow, you
    shall find him a new man.


    Hippolita   Well, I shall wait his leisure.


    Vasques   Fie, this is not a hearty patience; it comes sourly from you;
    'troth, let me persuade you for once.


    Hippolita   [Aside.] I have it, and it shall be so; thanks opportunity.
    [Aloud.] Persuade me! to what?


    Vasques   Visit him in some milder temper. Oh, if you could but master a
    little your female spleen, how might you win him!


    Hippolita   He will never love me. Vasques, thou hast been a too trusty
    servant to such a master, and I believe thy reward in the end will fall out
    like mine.


    Vasques   So perhaps too.


    Hippolita   Resolve thyself it will. Had I one so true, so truly honest, so
    secret to my counsels, as thou hast been to him and his, I should think it
    a slight acquittance, not only to make him master of all I have, but even
    of myself.


    Vasques   Oh, you are a noble gentlewoman!


    Hippolita   Wilt thou feed always upon hopes? well, I know thou art wise, and
    seest the reward of an old servant daily, what it is.


    Vasques   Beggary and neglect.


    Hippolita   True; but, Vasques, wert thou mine, and wouldst be private to me
    and my designs, I here protest, myself, and all what I can else call mine,
    should be at thy dispose.


    Vasques   [Aside.]Work you that way, old mole? then I have the wind of you.
    [Aloud.] I were not worthy of it by any desert that could lie within my
    compass; if I could—


    Hippolita   What then?


    Vasques   I should then hope to live in these my old years with rest and
    security.


    Hippolita   Give me thy hand: now promise but thy silence,
    And help to bring to pass a plot I have;
    And here, in sight of Heaven, that being done,
    I make thee lord of me and mine estate.


    Vasques   Come, you are merry; this is such a happiness that I can neither
    think nor believe.


    Hippolita   Promise thy secrecy, and 'tis confirm'd.


    Vasques   Then here I call our good genii for witnesses, whatsoever your
    designs are, or against whomsoever, I will not only be a special actor
    therein, but never disclose it till it be effected.


    Hippolita   I take thy word, and, with that, thee for mine;
    Come then, let's more confer of this anon.
    [Aside] On this delicious bane my thought shall banquet,
    Revenge shall sweeten what my griefs have tasted.


    [Exit with Vasques.]



    Scene 3




    [Enter Richardetto and Philotis.]


    Richardetto   Thou seest, my lovely niece, these strange mishaps,
    How all my fortunes turn to my disgrace;
    Wherein I am but as a looker-on,
    Whilst others act my shame, and I am silent.


    Philotis    But, uncle, wherein can this borrow'd shape
    Give you content?


    Richardetto   I'll tell thee, gentle niece;
    Thy wanton aunt in her lascivious riots
    Lives now secure, thinks I am surely dead,
    In my late journey to Ligorne for you;
    As I have caus'd it to be rumour'd out.
    Now would I see with what an impudence
    She gives scope to her loose adultery,
    And how the common voice allows hereof;
    Thus far I have prevail'd.


    Philotis    Alas, I fear
    You mean some strange revenge.


    Richardetto   Oh, be not troubled,
    Your ignorance shall plead for you in all
    But to our business.—What! you learn'd for certain,
    How Signior Florio means to give his daughter
    In marriage to Soranzo?


    Philotis   Yes, for certain.


    Richardetto   But how find you young Annabella's love
    Inclined to him?


    Philotis   For aught I could perceive,
    She neither fancies him nor any else.


    Richardetto   There's mystery in that, which time must show.
    She us'd you kindly?


    Philotis   Yes.


    Richardetto   And crav'd your company?


    Philotis   Often.


    Richardetto   'Tis well; it goes as I could wish.
    I am the doctor now, and as for you,
    None knows you; if all fail not, we shall thrive.
    But who comes here?—I know him; 'tis Grimaldi,
    A Roman and a soldier, near allied
    Unto the Duke of Montferrato, one
    Attending on the nuncio of the Pope
    That now resides in Parma; by which means
    He hopes to get the love of Annabella.


    [Enter Grimaldi.]


    Grimaldi   Save you, sir.


    Richardetto   And you, sir.


    Grimaldi   I have heard
    Of your approved skill, which through the city
    Is freely talk'd of, and would crave your aid.


    Richardetto   For what, sir?


    Grimaldi   Marry, sir, for this—
    But I would speak in private.


    Richardetto   Leave us, cousin.


    [Philotis retires.]


    Grimaldi   I love fair Annabella, and would know
    Whether in arts there may not be receipts
    To move affection.


    Richardetto   Sir, perhaps there may;
    But these will nothing profit you.


    Grimaldi   Not me?


    Richardetto   Unless I be mistook, you are a man
    Greatly in favour with the cardinal.


    Grimaldi   What of that?


    Richardetto   In duty to his grace,
    I will be bold to tell you, if you seek
    To marry Florio's daughter, you must first
    Remove a bar 'twixt you and her.


    Grimaldi   Who's that?


    Richardetto   Soranzo is the man that hath her heart,
    And while he lives, be sure you cannot speed.


    Grimaldi   Soranzo! what, mine enemy? is it he?


    Richardetto   Is he your enemy?


    Grimaldi   The man I hate
    Worse than confusion; I will tell him straight.


    Richardetto   Nay, then take my advice,
    Even for his grace's sake the cardinal;
    I'll find a time when he and she do meet,
    Of which I'll give you notice; and, to be sure
    He shall not 'scape you, I'll provide a poison
    To dip your rapier's point in; if he had
    As many heads as Hydra had, he dies.


    Grimaldi   But shall I trust thee, doctor?


    Richardetto   As yourself;
    Doubt not in aught.


    [Exit Grimaldi.]


    Thus shall the fates decree,
    By me Soranzo falls, that ruin'd me.


    [Exeunt.]



    Scene 4




    [Enter Donado, with a letter, Bergetto, and Poggio.]


    Donado   Well, sir, I must be content to be both your secretary and your
    messenger myself. I cannot tell what this letter may work; but, as sure as
    I am alive, if thou come once to talk with her, I fear thou wilt mar
    whatsoever I make.


    Bergetto   You make, uncle! why am not I big enough to carry mine own letter,
    I pray?


    Donado   Ay, ay, carry a fool's head of thy own! why, thou dunce, wouldst
    thou write a letter, and carry it thyself?


    Bergetto   Yes, that I would, and read it to her with mine own mouth; for you
    must think, if she will not believe me myself when she hears me speak, she
    will not believe another's handwriting. Oh, you think I am a blockhead,
    uncle. No, sir, Poggio knows I have indited a letter myself; so I have.


    Poggio   Yes truly, sir, I have it in my pocket.


    Donado   A sweet one, no doubt; pray let's see it.


    Bergetto   I cannot read my own hand very well, Poggio; read it, Poggio.


    Donado   Begin.


    Poggio   [Reads.] “Most dainty and honey-sweet mistress, I could call you
    fair, and lie as fast as any that loves you; but my uncle being the elder
    man, I leave it to him, as more fit for his age, and the colour of his
    beard. I am wise enough to tell you I can board where I see occasion; or if
    you like my uncle's wit better than mine, you shall marry me; if you like
    mine better than his, I will marry you, in spite of your teeth. So
    commending my best parts to you, I rest
       Yours, upwards and downwards, or you may choose.
                                              BERGETTO"


    Bergetto   Ah, ha! here's stuff, uncle!


    Donado   Here's stuff indeed—to shame us all. Pray whose advice did you
    take in this learned letter?


    Poggio   None, upon my word, but mine own.


    Bergetto   And mine, uncle, believe it, nobody's else; 'twas mine own brain,
    I thank a good wit for 't.


    Donado   Get you home, sir, and look you keep within doors till I return.


    Bergetto   How? that were a jest indeed! I scorn it, i' faith.


    Donado   What! you do not?


    Bergetto   Judge me, but I do now.


    Poggio   Indeed, sir, 'tis very unhealthy.


    Donado   Well, sir, if I hear any of your apish running to motions and
    fopperies, till I come back, you were as good not; look to 't.


    [Exit.]


    Bergetto   Poggio, shall's steal to see this horse with the head in's tail?


    Poggio   Ay, but you must take heed of whipping.


    Bergetto   Dost take me for a child, Poggio? Come, honest Poggio.


    [Exeunt.]



    Scene 5




    [Enter Friar and Giovanni.]


    Friar   Peace! thou hast told a tale, whose every word
    Threatens eternal slaughter to the soul;
    I'm sorry I have heard it: would mine ears
    Had been one minute deaf, before the hour
    That thou cam'st to me! Oh, young man, castaway,
    By the religious number of mine order,
    I day and night have wak'd my aged eyes
    Above my strength, to weep on thy behalf:
    But Heaven is angry, and be thou resolv'd,
    Thou art a man remark'd to taste a mischief.
    Look for 't; though it come late, it will come sure.


    Giovanni   Father, in this you are uncharitable;
    What I have done, I'll prove both fit and good.
    It is a principle which you have taught,
    When I was yet your scholar, that the frame
    And composition of the mind doth follow
    The frame and composition of [the] body.
    So, where the body's furniture is beauty,
    The mind's must needs be virtue; which allow'd,
    Virtue itself is reason but refined,
    And love the quintessence of that: this proves
    My sister's beauty, being rarely fair,
    Is rarely virtuous; chiefly in her love,
    And chiefly, in that love, her love to me:
    If hers to me, then so is mine to her;
    Since in like causes are effects alike.


    Friar   Oh, ignorance in knowledge! long ago,
    How often have I warn'd thee this before?
    Indeed, if we were sure there were no Deity,
    Nor heaven nor hell; then to be led alone
    By nature's light (as were philosophers
    Of elder times) might instance some defence.
    But 'tis not so: then, madman, thou wilt find,
    That nature is in Heaven's positions blind.


    Giovanni   Your age o'errules you; had you youth like mine,
    You'd make her love your heaven, and her divine.


    Friar   Nay, then I see thou 'rt too far sold to hell:
    It lies not in the compass of my prayers
    To call thee back, yet let me counsel thee;
    Persuade thy sister to some marriage.


    Giovanni   Marriage? why that's to damn her; that's to prove
    Her greedy of variety of lust.


    Friar   Oh, fearful! if thou wilt not, give me leave
    To shrive her, lest she should die unabsolved.


    Giovanni   At your best leisure, father: then she'll tell you,
    How dearly she doth prize my matchless love;
    Then you will know what pity 'twere we two
    Should have been sunder'd from each other's arms.
    View well her face, and in that little round
    You may observe a world's variety;
    For colour, lips; for sweet perfumes, her breath;
    For jewels, eyes; for threads of purest gold,
    Hair; for delicious choice of flowers, cheeks!
    Wonder in every portion of that throne.
    Hear her but speak, and you will swear the spheres
    Make music to the citizens in heaven.
    But, father, what is else for pleasure fram'd,
    Lest I offend your ears, shall go unnam'd.


    Friar   The more I hear, I pity thee the more;
    That one so excellent should give those parts
    All to a second death. What I can do,
    Is but to pray; and yet—I could advise thee,
    Wouldst thou be ruled.


    Giovanni   In what?


    Friar   Why leave her yet:
    The throne of mercy is above your trespass;
    Yet time is left you both—


    Giovanni   To embrace each other,
    Else let all time be struck quite out of number;
    She is like me, and I like her, resolv'd.


    Friar   No more! I'll visit her;—this grieves me most,
    Things being thus, a pair of souls are lost.


    [Exeunt.]



    Scene 6




    [Enter Florio, Donado, Annabella, and Putana.]


    Florio   Where is Giovanni?


    Annabella   Newly walk'd abroad,
    And, as I heard him say, gone to the friar,
    His reverend tutor.


    Florio   That's a blessed man,
    A man made up of holiness; I hope
    He'll teach him how to gain another world.


    Donado   Fair gentlewoman, here's a letter, sent
    To you from my young cousin; I dare swear
    He loves you in his soul; would you could hear
    Sometimes, what I see daily, sighs and tears,
    As if his breast were prison to his heart.


    Florio   Receive it, Annabella.


    Annabella   [Takes the letter.] Alas, good man!


    Donado   What's that she said?


    Putana   An 't please you, sir, she said, “Alas, good man!” Truly I do
    commend him to her every night before her first sleep, because I would have
    her dream of him; and she hearkens to that most religiously.


    Donado   Say'st so? God a' mercy, Putana! there is something for thee [Gives
    her money]—and prithee do what thou canst on his behalf; it shall not be
    lost labour, take my word for it.


    Putana   Thank you most heartily, sir; now I have a feeling of your mind, let
    me alone to work.


    Annabella   Guardian.


    Putana   Did you call?


    Annabella   Keep this letter.


    Donado   Signior Florio, in any case bid her read it instantly.


    Florio   Keep it! for what? pray read it me hereright.


    Annabella   I shall, sir. [She reads the letter.]


    Donado   How do you find her inclined, signior?


    Florio   Troth, sir, I know not how; not all so well
    As I could wish.


    Annabella   Sir, I am bound to rest your cousin's debtor.
    The jewel I'll return; for if he love,
    I'll count that love a jewel.


    Donado   Mark you that?
    Nay, keep them both, sweet maid.


    Annabella   You must excuse me,
    Indeed I will not keep it.


    Florio   Where's the ring,
    That which your mother, in her will, bequeath'd,
    And charged you on her blessing not to give it
    To any but your husband? send back that.


    Annabella   I have it not.


    Florio   Ha! have it not; where is it?


    Annabella   My brother in the morning took it from me,
    Said he would wear it to-day.


    Florio   Well, what do you say
    To young Bergetto's love! are you content to
    Match with him? speak.


    Donado   There is the point, indeed.


    Annabella   [Aside] What shall I do? I must say something now.


    Florio   What say? why do you not speak?


    Annabella   Sir, with your leave—
    Please you to give me freedom?


    Florio   Yes, you have [it].


    Annabella   Signior Donado, if your nephew mean
    To raise his better fortunes in his match,
    The hope of me will hinder such a hope:
    Sir, if you love him, as I know you do,
    Find one more worthy of his choice than me;
    In short, I'm sure I shall not be his wife.


    Donado   Why here's plain dealing; I commend thee for 't;
    And all the worst I wish thee, is, heaven bless thee!
    Your father yet and I will still be friends;
    Shall we not, Signior Florio?


    Florio   Yes; why not?
    Look, here your cousin comes.


    [Enter Bergetto and Poggio.]


    Donado   Oh, coxcomb! what doth he make here?


    Bergetto   Where is my uncle, sirs?


    Donado   What is the news now?


    Bergetto   Save you, uncle, save you! You must not think I come for nothing,
    masters; and how, and how is it? what, you have read my letter? ah, there I
    tickled you, i' faith.


    Poggio   But 'twere better you had tickled her in another place.


    Bergetto   Sirrah sweetheart, I'll tell thee a good jest; and riddle what it
    is.


    Annabella   You say you'll tell me.


    Bergetto   As I was walking just now in the street, I met a swaggering fellow
    would needs take the wall of me; and because he did thrust me, I very
    valiantly call'd him rogue; he hereupon bade me draw, I told him I had more
    wit than so: but when he saw that I would not, he did so maul me with the
    hilts of his rapier, that my head sung whilst my feet caper'd in the
    kennel.


    Donado   Was ever the like ass seen!


    Annabella   And what did you all this while?


    Bergetto   Laugh at him for a gull, till I saw the blood run about mine ears,
    and then I could not choose but find in my heart to cry; till a fellow with
    a broad beard (they say he is a new-come doctor) call'd me into his house,
    and gave me a plaster, look you, here 'tis,—and, sir, there was a young
    wench wash'd my face and hands most excellently; i' faith I shall love her
    as long as I live for it—did she not, Poggio?


    Poggio   Yes, and kiss'd him too.


    Bergetto   Why la now, you think I tell a lie, uncle, I warrant.


    Donado   Would he that beat thy blood out of thy head, had beaten some wit
    into it! for I fear thou never wilt have any.


    Bergetto   Oh, uncle, but there was a wench would have done a man's heart
    good to have look'd on her. By this light, she had a face methinks worth
    twenty of you, Mistress Annabella.


    Donado   Was ever such a fool born?


    Annabella   I am glad she liked you, sir.


    Bergetto   Are you so? by my troth I thank you, forsooth.


    Florio   Sure it was the doctor's niece, that was last day with us here.


    Bergetto   'Twas she, 'twas she.


    Donado   How do you know that, Simplicity?


    Bergetto   Why does he not say so? if I should have said no, I should have
    given him the lie, uncle, and so have deserv'd a dry beating again; I'll
    none of that.


    Florio   A very modest well-behav'd young maid, as I have seen.


    Donado   Is she indeed?


    Florio   Indeed she is, if I have any judgment.


    Donado   Well, sir, now you are free: you need not care for sending letters
    now; you are dismiss'd, your mistress here will none of you.


    Bergetto   No! why, what care I for that? I can have wenches enough in Parma
    for half a crown apiece; cannot I, Poggio?


    Poggio   I'll warrant you, sir.


    Donado   Signior Florio, I thank you for your free recourse you gave for my
    admittance; and to you, fair maid, that jewel I will give you against your
    marriage. Come, will you go, sir?


    Bergetto   Ay, marry will I. Mistress, farewell, mistress; I'll come again
    tomorrow—farewell, mistress.


    [Exeunt Donado, Bergetto, and Poggio.]
    [Enter Giovanni.]


    Florio   Son, where have you been? what alone, alone still?
    I would not have it so; you must forsake
    This over-bookish humour. Well; your sister
    Hath shook the fool off.


    Giovanni   'Twas no match for her.


    Florio   'Twas not indeed; I meant it nothing less;
    Soranzo is the man I only like;
    Look on him, Annabella. Come, 'tis supper-time,
    And it grows late.


    [Exit.]


    Giovanni   Whose jewel's that?


    Annabella   Some sweetheart's.


    Giovanni   So I think.


    Annabella   A lusty youth,
    Signior Donado, gave it me to wear
    Against my marriage.


    Giovanni   But you shall not wear it;
    Send it him back again.


    Annabella   What, you are jealous?


    Giovanni   That you shall know anon, at better leisure:
    Welcome sweet night! the evening crowns the day.


    [Exeunt.]



    Act 3


    Scene 1


    [Enter Bergetto and Poggio.]


    Bergetto   Does my uncle think to make me a baby still? No, Poggio; he shall
    know I have a sconce now.


    Poggio   Ay, let him not bob you off like an ape with an apple.


    Bergetto   'Sfoot, I will have the wench, if he were ten uncles, in despite
    of his nose, Poggio.


    Poggio   Hold him to the grindstone, and give not a jot of ground; she hath
    in a manner promised you already.


    Bergetto   True, Poggio; and her uncle, the doctor, swore I should marry her.


    Poggio   He swore; I remember.


    Bergetto   And I will have her, that's more: didst see the codpiece-point she
    gave me, and the box of marmalade?


    Poggio   Very well; and kiss'd you, that my chops water'd at the sight on't:
    there is no way but to clap up a marriage in hugger-mugger.


    Bergetto   I will do it; for I tell thee, Poggio, I begin to grow valiant
    methinks, and my courage begins to rise.


    Poggio   Should you be afraid of your uncle?


    Bergetto   Hang him, old doting rascal! no; I say I will have her.


    Poggio   Lose no time then.


    Bergetto   I will beget a race of wise men and constables that shall cart
    whores at their own charges; and break the duke's peace ere I have done,
    myself.—Come away.


    [Exeunt.]



    Scene 2




    [Enter Florio, Giovanni, Soranzo, Annabella, Putana, and Vasques.]


    Florio   My Lord Soranzo, though I must confess
    The proffers that are made me have been great,
    In marriage of my daughter; yet the hope
    Of your still rising honours has prevail'd
    Above all other jointures: here she is;
    She knows my mind; speak for yourself to her,
    And hear you, daughter, see you use him nobly:
    For any private speech, I'll give you time.
    Come, son, and you the rest; let them alone;
    Agree [they] as they may.


    Soranzo   I thank you, sir.


    Giovanni   [Aside to Annabella.] Sister, be not all woman, think on me.


    Soranzo   Vasques.


    Vasques   My lord.


    Soranzo   Attend me without.


    [Exeunt all but Soranzo and Annabella.]


    Annabella   Sir, what's your will with me?


    Soranzo   Do you not know
    What I should tell you?


    Annabella   Yes; you'll say you love me.


    Soranzo   And I will swear it too; will you believe it?


    Annabella   'Tis no point of faith.


    [Enter Giovanni, in the gallery above.]


    Soranzo   Have you not will to love?


    Annabella   Not you.


    Soranzo   Whom then?


    Annabella   That's as the fates infer.


    Giovanni   Of those I'm regent now.


    Soranzo   What mean you, sweet?


    Annabella   To live and die a maid.


    Soranzo   Oh, that's unfit.


    Giovanni   Here's one can say that's but a woman's note.


    Soranzo   Did you but see my heart, then would you swear—


    Annabella   That you were dead.


    Giovanni   That's true, or somewhat near it.


    Soranzo   See you these true love's tears?


    Annabella   No.


    Giovanni   Now she winks.


    Soranzo   They plead to you for grace.


    Annabella   Yet nothing speak.


    Soranzo   Oh, grant my suit.


    Annabella   What is 't?


    Soranzo   To let me live—


    Annabella   Take it.


    Soranzo   Still yours.


    Annabella   That is not mine to give.


    Giovanni   One such another word would kill his hopes.


    Soranzo   Mistress, to leave those fruitless strifes of wit,
    Know I have lov'd you long, and lov'd you truly;
    Not hope of what you have, but what you are,
    Hath drawn me on; then let me not in vain
    Still feel the rigour of your chaste disdain:
    I'm sick, and sick to the heart.


    Annabella   Help, aqua vitae!


    Soranzo   What mean you?


    Annabella   Why, I thought you had been sick.


    Soranzo   Do you mock my love?


    Giovanni   There, sir, she was too nimble.


    Soranzo   [Aside.] 'Tis plain; she laughs at me. [Aloud.] These scornful
    taunts
    Neither become your modesty nor years.


    Annabella   You are no looking-glass; or if you were,
    I would dress my language by you.


    Giovanni   I am confirm'd.


    Annabella   To put you out of doubt, my lord, methinks
    Your common sense should make you understand,
    That if I lov'd you, or desired your love,
    Some way I should have given you better taste:
    But since you are a nobleman, and one
    I would not wish should spend his youth in hopes,
    Let me advise you to forbear your suit,
    And think I wish you well, I tell you this.


    Soranzo   Is 't you speak this?


    Annabella   Yes, I myself; yet know,
    (Thus far I give you comfort,) if mine eyes
    Could have pick'd out a man, amongst all those
    That sued to me, to make a husband of,
    You should have been that man; let this surfice,
    Be noble in your secrecy, and wise.


    Giovanni   Why, now I see she loves me.


    Annabella   One word more.
    As ever virtue liv'd within your mind,
    As ever noble courses were your guide,
    As ever you would have me know you lov'd me,
    Let not my father know hereof by you;
    If I hereafter find that I must marry,
    It shall be you or none.


    Soranzo   I take that promise.


    Annabella   Oh, oh, my head!


    Soranzo   What's the matter, not well?


    Annabella   Oh, I begin to sicken.


    Giovanni   Heaven forbid!


    [Exit from above.]


    Soranzo   Help, help, within there, ho!


    [Enter Florio, Giovanni, and Putana.]


    Look to your daughter, Signior Florio.


    Florio   Hold her up, she swoons.


    Giovanni   Sister, how do you?


    Annabella   Sick,—brother, are you there?


    Florio   Convey her to bed instantly, whilst I send for a physician; quickly,
    I say.


    Putana   Alas, poor child!


    [Exeunt all but Soranzo.]
    [Re-enter Vasques.]


    Vasques   My lord.


    Soranzo   Oh, Vasques! now I doubly am undone,
    Both in my present and my future hopes:
    She plainly told me that she could not love,
    And thereupon soon sicken'd; and I fear
    Her life's in danger.


    Vasques   [Aside.] By'r lady, sir, and so is yours, if you knew all. [Aloud.]
    'Las, sir, I am sorry for that; may be, 'tis but the maids-sickness, an
    overfiux of youth; and then, sir, there is no such present remedy as
    present marriage. But hath she given you an absolute denial?


    Soranzo   She hath, and she hath not; I'm full of grief;
    But what she said, I'll tell thee as we go.


    [Exeunt.]



    Scene 3




    [Enter Giovanni and Putana.]


    Putana   Oh, sir, we are all undone, quite undone, utterly undone, and shamed
    for ever: your sister, oh, your sister!


    Giovanni   What of her? for heaven's sake, speak; how does she?


    Putana   Oh, that ever I was born to see this day!


    Giovanni   She is not dead, ha? is she?


    Putana   Dead! no, she is quick;—'tis worse, she is with child. You know
    what you have done; heaven forgive you! 'tis too late to repent now, heaven
    help us!


    Giovanni   With child? how dost thou know 't?


    Putana   How do I know 't? am I at these years ignorant what the meanings of
    qualms and water-pangs be? of changing of colours, queasiness of stomachs,
    pukings, and another thing that I could name? Do not, for her and your
    credit's sake, spend the time in asking how, and which way, 'tis so: she is
    quick, upon my word; if you let a physician see her water, you are undone.


    Giovanni   But in what case is she?


    Putana   Prettily amended: 'twas but a fit, which I soon espied, and she must
    look for often henceforward.


    Giovanni   Commend me to her, bid her take no care;
    Let not the doctor visit her, I charge you;
    Make some excuse, till I return.—Oh, me!
    I have a world of business in my head.
    Do not discomfort her—
    How do these news perplex me! If my father
    Come to her, tell him she's recover'd well;
    Say 'twas but some ill diet—d' ye hear, woman?
    Look you to 't.


    Putana   I will, sir.


    [Exeunt.]



    Scene 4




    [Enter Florio and Richardetto.]


    Florio   And how do you find her, sir?


    Richardetto   Indifferent well;
    I see no danger, scarce perceive she's sick,
    But that she told me she had lately eaten
    Melons, and, as she thought, those disagreed
    With her young stomach.


    Florio   Did you give her aught?


    Richardetto   An easy surfeit—water, nothing else;
    You need not doubt her health; I rather think
    Her sickness is a fullness of her blood—
    You understand me?


    Florio   I do; you counsel well;
    And once, within these few days, will so order it,
    She shall be married ere she know the time.


    Richardetto   Yet let not haste, sir, make unworthy choice;
    That were dishonour.


    Florio   Master doctor, no;
    I will not do so neither: in plain words,
    My Lord Soranzo is the man I mean.


    Richardetto   A noble and a virtuous gentleman.


    Florio   As any is in Parma: not far hence
    Dwells Father Bonaventure, a grave friar,
    Once tutor to my son; now at his cell
    I'll have them married.


    Richardetto   You have plotted wisely.


    Florio   I'll send one straight to speak with him tonight.


    Richardetto   Soranzo's wise; he will delay no time.


    Florio   It shall be so.


    [Enter Friar and Giovanni.]


    Friar   Good peace be here, and love!


    Florio   Welcome, religious friar; you are one
    That still bring blessing to the place you come to.


    Giovanni   Sir, with what speed I could, I did my best
    To draw this holy man from forth his cell,
    To visit my sick sister; that with words
    Of ghostly comfort, in this time of need,
    He might absolve her, whether she live or die.


    Florio   'Twas well done, Giovanni; thou herein
    Hast show'd a Christian's care, a brother's love:
    Come, father, I'll conduct you to her chamber,
    And one thing would entreat you.


    Friar   Say on, sir.


    Florio   I have a father's dear impression,
    And wish, before I fall into my grave,
    That I might see her married, as 'tis fit;
    A word from you, grave man, will win her more
    Than all our best persuasions.


    Friar   Gentle sir,
    All this I'll say, that Heaven may prosper her.


    [Exeunt.]



    Scene 5




    [Enter Grimaldi.]


    Grimaldi   Now if the doctor keep his word, Soranzo,
    Twenty to one you miss your bride. I know
    'Tis an unnoble act, and not becomes
    A soldier's valour; but in terms of love,
    Where merit cannot sway, policy must:
    I am resolv'd, if this physician
    Play not on both hands, then Soranzo falls.


    [Enter Richardetto.]


    Richardetto   You are come as I could wish; this very night
    Soranzo, 'tis ordain'd must be affied
    To Annabella, and, for aught I know,
    Married.


    Grimaldi   How!


    Richardetto   Yet your patience;
    The place, 'tis Friar Bonaventure's cell.
    Now I would wish you to bestow this night
    In watching thereabouts; 'tis but a night:
    If you miss now, tomorrow I'll know all.


    Grimaldi   Have you the poison?


    Richardetto   Here 'tis, in this box;
    Doubt nothing, this will do 't; in any case,
    As you respect your life, be quick and sure.


    Grimaldi   I'll speed him.


    Richardetto   Do.—Away; for 'tis not safe
    You should be seen much here,—ever my love!


    Grimaldi   And mine to you.


    [Exit.]


    Richardetto   So! if this hit, I'll laugh and hug revenge;
    And they that now dream of a wedding-feast,
    May chance to mourn the lusty bridegroom's ruin:
    But to my other business—Niece Philotis!


    [Enter Philotis.]


    Philotis   Uncle.


    Richardetto   My lovely niece,
    You have bethought you?


    Philotis   Yes,—and, as you counsell'd,
    Fashion'd my heart to love him; but he swears
    He will tonight be married; for he fears
    His uncle else, if he should know the drift,
    Will hinder all, and call his coz to shrift.


    Richardetto   Tonight? why best of all; but let me see,
    I—ha!—yes,—so it shall be; in disguise
    We'll early to the friar's—I have thought on 't.


    Philotis   Uncle, he comes.


    [Enter Bergetto and Poggio.]


    Richardetto   Welcome, my worthy coz.


    Bergetto   Lass, pretty lass, come buss, lass! A-ha, Poggio! [Kisses her.]


    Richardetto   [Aside.] There's hope of this yet.
    [Aloud] You shall have time enough; withdraw a little,
    We must confer at large.


    Bergetto   Have you not sweetmeats, or dainty devices for me?


    Philotis    You shall [have] enough, sweetheart.


    Bergetto   Sweetheart! mark that, Poggio. By my troth I cannot choose but
    kiss thee once more for that word, sweetheart. Poggio, I have a monstrous
    swelling about my stomach, whatsoever the matter be.


    Poggio   You shall have physic for 't, sir.


    Richardetto   Time runs apace.


    Bergetto   Time's a blockhead.


    Richardetto   Be ruled; when we have done what's fit to do,
    Then you may kiss your fill, and bed her too.


    [Exeunt.]



    Scene 6




    Annabella's chamber. A table with wax lights.


    [Annabella at confession before the Friar; she weeps and wrings her hands.]


    Friar   I am glad to see this penance; for, believe me,
    You have unripp'd a soul so foul and guilty,
    As I must tell you true, I marvel how
    The earth hath borne you up; but weep, weep on,
    These tears may do you good; weep faster yet,
    Whilst I do read a lecture.


    Annabella   Wretched creature!


    Friar   Ay, you are wretched, miserably wretched,
    Almost condemn'd alive. There is a place,
    List, daughter! in a black and hollow vault,
    Where day is never seen; there shines no sun,
    But flaming horror of consuming fires,
    A lightless sulphur, chok'd with smoky fogs
    Of an infected darkness: in this place
    Dwell many thousand thousand sundry sorts
    Of never-dying deaths: there damned souls
    Roar without pity; there are gluttons fed
    With toads and adders; there is burning oil
    Pour'd down the drunkard's throat; the usurer
    Is forced to sup whole draughts of molten gold;
    There is the murderer for ever stabb'd,
    Yet can he never die; there lies the wanton
    On racks of burning steel, whilst in his soul
    He feels the torment of his raging lust.—


    Annabella   Mercy! oh, mercy!


    Friar   There stand these wretched things,
    Who have dream'd out whole years in lawless sheets
    And secret incests, cursing one another:
    Then you will wish each kiss your brother gave
    Had been a dagger's point; then you shall hear
    How he will cry, “Oh, would my wicked sister
    Had first been damn'd, when she did yield to lust!”—
    But soft, methinks I see repentance work
    New motions in your heart; say, how is 't with you?


    Annabella   Is there no way left to redeem my miseries?


    Friar   There is, despair not; Heaven is merciful,
    And offers grace even now. 'Tis thus agreed:
    First, for your honour's safety, that you marry
    My Lord Soranzo; next, to save your soul,
    Leave off this life, and henceforth live to him.


    Annabella   Ah me!


    Friar   Sigh not; I know the baits of sin
    Are hard to leave; oh, 'tis a death to do 't.
    Remember what must come: are you content?


    Annabella   I am.


    Friar   I like it well; we'll take the time.
    Who's near us there?


    [Enter Florio and Giovanni.]


    Florio   Did you call, father?


    Friar   Is Lord Soranzo come?


    Florio   He stays below.


    Friar   Have you acquainted him at full?


    Florio   I have,
    And he is overjoy'd.


    Friar   And so are we:
    Bid him come near.


    Giovanni   [Aside.] My sister weeping?—Ha!
    I fear this friar's falsehood. [Aloud.] I will call him.


    [Exit.]


    Florio   Daughter, are you resolv'd?


    Annabella   Father, I am.


    [Re-enter Giovanni, with Soranzo and Vasques.]


    Florio   My Lord Soranzo, here
    Give me your hand; for that, I give you this.


    [Joins their hands.]


    Soranzo   Lady, say you so too?


    Annabella   I do, and vow
    To live with you and yours.


    Friar   Timely resolv'd;
    My blessing rest on both! more to be done,
    You may perform it on the morning sun.


    [Exeunt.]



    Scene 7




    [Enter Grimaldi with his rapier drawn, and a dark lantern.]


    Grimaldi   'Tis early night as yet, and yet too soon
    To finish such a work; here I will lie
    To listen who comes next.


    [He lies down.]


    [Enter Bergetto and Philotis disguised: and followed, at a distance, by
    Richardetto and Poggio.]


    Bergetto   We are almost at the place, I hope, sweetheart.


    Grimaldi   I hear them near, and heard one say “sweetheart”.
    'Tis he; now guide my hand, some angry justice,
    Home to his bosom.—Now have at you, sir! [Stabs Bergetto]


    [Exit.]


    Bergetto   Oh, help, help! here's a stitch fallen in my guts; oh for a flesh-
    tailor quickly—Poggio!


    Philotis   What ails my love?


    Bergetto   I am sure I cannot piss forward and backward, and yet I am wet
    before and behind; lights! lights! ho, lights!


    Philotis   Alas, some villain here has slain my love.


    Richardetto   Oh, Heaven forbid it; raise up the next neighbours
    Instantly, Poggio, and bring lights.


    [Exit Poggio.]


    How is 't, Bergetto? slain! It cannot be;
    Are you sure you are hurt?


    Bergetto   Oh, my belly seethes like a porridge-pot; some cold water, I shall
    boil over else: my whole body is in a sweat, that you may wring my shirt;
    feel here—why, Poggio!


    [Re-enter Poggio, with Officers, and lights.]


    Poggio   Here; alas! how do you?


    Richardetto   Give me a light. What's here? all blood! Oh, sirs,
    Signior Donado's nephew now is slain.
    Follow the murderer with all the haste
    Up to the city, he cannot be far hence;
    Follow, I beseech you.


    Officers   Follow, follow, follow.


    [Exeunt.]


    Richardetto   Tear off thy linen, coz, to stop his wounds;
    Be of good comfort, man.


    Bergetto   Is all this mine own blood? nay, then, good night with me. Poggio,
    commend me to my uncle, dost hear? bid him, for my sake, make much of this
    wench: oh—I am going the wrong way sure, my belly aches so—oh,
    farewell, Poggio! Oh!—oh!—[Dies.]


    Philotis   Oh, he is dead.


    Poggio   How! dead!


    Richardetto   He's dead indeed;
    'Tis now too late to weep: let's have him home,
    And, with what speed we may, find out the murderer.


    Poggio   Oh, my master! my master! my master!


    [Exeunt.]



    Scene 8




    [Enter Vasques and Hippolita.]


    Hippolita   Betroth'd?


    Vasques   I saw it.


    Hippolita   And when's the marriage-day?


    Vasques   Some two days hence.


    Hippolita   Two days! why, man, I would but wish two hours,
    To send him to his last, and lasting sleep;
    And, Vasques, thou shalt see I'll do it bravely.


    Vasques   I do not doubt your wisdom, nor, I trust, you my secrecy;
    I am infinitely yours.


    Hippolita   I will be thine in spite of my disgrace.
    So soon? O wicked man! I durst be sworn,
    He'd laugh to see me weep.


    Vasques   And that's a villainous fault in him.


    Hippolita   No, let him laugh; I am arm'd in my resolves:
    Be thou still true.


    Vasques   I should get little by treachery against so hopeful a preferment,
    as I am like to climb to—


    Hippolita   Even to—my bosom, Vasques. Let my youth
    Revel in these new pleasures; if we thrive,
    He now hath but a pair of days to live.


    [Exeunt.]



    Scene 9




    [Enter Florio, Donado, Richardetto, Poggio, and Officers.]


    Florio   'Tis bootless now to show yourself a child.
    Signior Donado, what is done, is done;
    Spend not the time in tears, but seek for justice.


    Richardetto   I must confess, somewhat I was in fault,
    That had not first acquainted you what love
    Passed 'twixt him and my niece; but, as I live,
    His fortune grieves me as it were mine own.


    Donado   Alas, poor creature, he meant no man harm,
    That I am sure of.


    Florio   I believe that, too.
    But stay, my masters; are you sure you saw
    The murderer pass here?


    Officer   An it please you, sir, we are sure we saw a ruffian, with a naked
    weapon in his hand all bloody, get into my lord cardinal's grace's gate;
    that we are sure of; but for fear of his grace (bless us!) we durst go no
    farther.


    Donado   Know you what manner of man he was?


    Officer   Yes, sure, I know the man; they say he is a soldier: he that lov'd
    your daughter, sir, an 't please ye; 'twas he for certain.


    Florio   Grimaldi, on my life.


    Officer   Ay, ay, the same.


    Richardetto   The cardinal is noble; he no doubt
    Will give true justice.


    Donado   Knock someone at the gate.


    Poggio   I'll knock, sir. [Knocks.]


    Servant   [Within.] What would ye?


    Florio   We require speech with the lord cardinal
    About some present business; pray inform
    His grace that we are here.


    [Enter Cardinal, followed by Grimaldi.]


    Cardinal   Why how now, friends! what saucy mates are you,
    That know nor duty nor civility?
    Are we a person fit to be your host;
    Or is our house become your common inn,
    To beat our doors at pleasure? What such haste
    Is yours, as that it cannot wait fit times?
    Are you the masters of this commonwealth,
    And know no more discretion? Oh, your news
    Is here before you: you have lost a nephew,
    Donado, last night by Grimaldi slain:
    Is that your business? well, sir, we have knowledge on 't,
    Let that suffice.


    Grimaldi   In presence of your grace,
    In thought, I never meant Bergetto harm:
    But, Florio, you can tell, with how much scorn
    Soranzo, back'd with his confederates,
    Hath often wrong'd me; I to be reveng'd,
    (For that I could not win him else to fight)
    Had thought, by way of ambush, to have kill'd him,
    But was, unluckily, therein mistook;
    Else he had felt what late Bergetto did:
    And though my fault to him were merely chance,
    [Kneeling.] Yet humbly I submit me to your grace,
    To do with me as you please.


    Cardinal   Rise up, Grimaldi. [He rises.]
    You citizens of Parma, if you seek
    For justice, know, as nuncio from the Pope,
    For this offence I here receive Grimaldi
    Into His Holiness' protection:
    He is no common man, but nobly born,
    Of princes' blood, though you, Sir Florio,
    Thought him too mean a husband for your daughter.
    If more you seek for, you must go to Rome,
    For he shall thither; learn more wit for shame.
    —Bury your dead:—away, Grimaldi—leave 'em!


    [Exeunt Cardinal and Grimaldi.]


    Donado   Is this a churchman's voice? dwells justice here?


    Florio   Justice is fled to heaven, and comes no nearer.
    Soranzo?—was 't for him? Oh, impudence!
    Had he the face to speak it, and not blush?
    Come, come, Donado, there's no help in this,
    When cardinals think murder's not amiss:
    Great men may do their wills, we must obey,
    But Heaven will judge them for 't, another day.


    [Exeunt.]



    Act 4


    Scene 1


    [Enter the Friar, Giovanni, Annabella, Philotis, Soranzo, Donado, Florio,
    Richardetto, Putana, and Vasques]


    Friar   These holy rites perform'd, now take your times
    To spend the remnant of the day in feast;
    Such fit repasts are pleasing to the saints,
    Who are your guests, though not with mortal eyes
    To be beheld.—Long prosper in this day,
    You happy couple, to each other's joy!


    Soranzo   Father, your prayer is heard; the hand of goodness
    Hath been a shield for me against my death;
    And, more to bless me, hath enrich'd my life
    With this most precious jewel; such a prize
    As earth hath not another like to this.
    Cheer up, my love; and, gentlemen, my friends,
    Rejoice with me in mirth: this day we'll crown
    With lusty cups to Annabella's health.


    Giovanni   [Aside.] Oh, torture! were the marriage yet undone,
    Ere I'd endure this sight, to see my love
    Clipped by another, I would dare confusion,
    And stand the horror of ten thousand deaths.


    Vasques   Are you not well, sir?


    Giovanni   Prithee, fellow, wait;
    I need not thy officious diligence.


    Florio   Signior Donado, come, you must forget
    Your late mishaps, and drown your cares in wine.


    Soranzo   Vasques!


    Vasques   My lord.


    Soranzo   Reach me that weighty bowl.
    Here, brother Giovanni, here's to you,
    Your turn comes next, though now a bachelor;
    Here's to your sister's happiness, and mine!


    [Drinks, and offers him the bowl.]


    Giovanni   I cannot drink.


    Soranzo   What!


    Giovanni   'Twill indeed offend me.


    Annabella   Pray do not urge him, if he be not willing.


    [Hautboys.]


    Florio   How now! what noise is this?


    Vasques   Oh, sir, I had forgot to tell you; certain young maidens of Parma,
    in honour to Madam Annabella's marriage, have sent their loves to her in a
    masque, for which they humbly crave your patience and silence.


    Soranzo   We are much bound to them; so much the more,
    As it comes unexpected: guide them in.


    [Enter Hippolita, followed by Ladies in white robes, with garlands of
    willows, all masked. Music and a Dance.]


    Soranzo   Thanks, lovely virgins! now might we but know
    To whom we have been beholding for [this] love,
    We shall acknowledge it.


    Hippolita   Yes, you shall know:
    [Unmasks.] What think you now?


    Omnes   Hippolita!


    Hippolita   'Tis she;
    Be not amaz'd; nor blush, young lovely bride,
    I come not to defraud you of your man:
    'Tis now no time to reckon up the talk
    What Parma long hath rumour'd of us both;
    Let rash report run on! the breath that vents it
    Will, like a bubble, break itself at last.
    But now to you, sweet creature:—lend your hand—
    Perhaps it hath been said that I would claim
    Some interest in Soranzo, now your lord;
    What I have right to do, his soul knows best:
    But in my duty to your noble worth,
    Sweet Annabella, and my care of you,
    Here, take, Soranzo, take this hand from me,
    I'll once more join, what by the Holy Church
    Is finished and allow'd.—Have I done well?


    Soranzo   You have too much engaged us.


    Hippolita   One thing more.
    That you may know my single charity,
    Freely I here remit all interest
    I e'er could claim, and give you back your vows;
    And to confirm 't,—reach me a cup of wine—


    [Vasques gives her a poisoned cup.]


    My Lord Soranzo, in this draught I drink
    Long rest t' ye!—[She drinks] [Aside.] Look to it, Vasques.


    Vasques   Fear nothing—


    Soranzo   Hippolita, I thank you; and will pledge
    This happy union as another life.
    Wine, there!


    Vasques   You shall have none; neither shall you pledge her.


    Hippolita   How!


    Vasques   Know now, mistress she-devil, your own mischievous treachery hath
    kill'd you; I must not marry you.


    Hippolita   Villain!


    Omnes   What's the matter?


    Vasques   Foolish woman, thou art now like a firebrand, that hath kindled
    others and burnt thyself:—troppo sperar, inganna,—thy vain hope hath
    deceived thee; thou art but dead; if thou hast any grace, pray.


    Hippolita   Monster!


    Vasques   Die in charity, for shame.—This thing of malice, this woman, hath
    privately corrupted me with promise of [marriage,] under this politic
    reconciliation, to poison my lord, whilst she might laugh at his confusion
    on his marriage-day. I promised her fair; but I knew what my reward should
    have been, and would willingly have spared her life, but that I was
    acquainted with the danger of her disposition; and now have fitted her a
    just payment in her own coin: there she is, she hath yet—and end thy days
    in peace, vile woman; as for life, there's no hope, think not on 't.


    Omnes   Wonderful justice!


    Richardetto   Heaven, thou art righteous.


    Hippolita   Oh, 'tis true,
    I feel my minute coming. Had that slave
    Kept promise,—Oh, my torment!—thou, this hour,
    Hadst died, Soranzo—heat above hell-fire!—
    Yet, ere I pass away—cruel, cruel flames!—
    Take here my curse amongst you; may thy bed
    Of marriage be a rack unto thy heart,
    Burn blood, and boil in vengeance—Oh, my heart,
    My flame's intolerable—may'st thou live
    To father bastards; may her womb bring forth
    Monsters—and die together in your sins,
    Hated, scorn'd, and unpitied.—oh—oh—[Dies.]


    Florio   Was e'er so vile a creature!


    Richardetto   Here's the end
    Of lust and pride.


    Annabella   It is a fearful sight.


    Soranzo   Vasques, I know thee now a trusty servant,
    And never will forget thee. Come, my love,
    We'll home, and thank the heavens for this escape.
    Father and friends, we must break up this mirth;
    It is too sad a feast.


    Donado   Bear hence the body.


    Friar   [Aside to Giovanni.] Here's an ominous change!
    Mark this, my Giovanni, and take heed!—
    I fear the event; that marriage seldom's good,
    Where the bride-banquet so begins in blood.


    [Exeunt.]



    Scene 2




    [Enter Richardetto and Philotis.]


    Richardetto   My wretched wife, more wretched in her shame
    Than in her wrongs to me, hath paid too soon
    The forfeit of her modesty and life.
    And I am sure, my niece, though vengeance hover,
    Keeping aloof yet from Soranzo's fall,
    Yet he will fall, and sink with his own weight.
    I need not now (my heart persuades me so)
    To further his confusion; there is One
    Above begins to work; for, as I hear,
    Debates already 'twixt his wife and him
    Thicken and run to head; she, as 'tis said,
    Slightens his love, and he abandons hers:
    Much talk I hear. Since things go thus, my niece,
    In tender love and pity of your youth,
    My counsel is that you should free your years
    From hazard of these woes, by flying hence
    To fair Cremona, there to vow your soul
    In holiness, a holy votaress;
    Leave me to see the end of these extremes.
    All human worldly courses are uneven,
    No life is blessed but the way to heaven.


    Philotis    Uncle, shall I resolve to be a nun?


    Richardetto   Ay, gentle niece; and in your hourly prayers
    Remember me, your poor unhappy uncle.
    Hie to Cremona now, as fortune leads,
    Your home your cloister, your best friends your beads;
    Your chaste and single life shall crown your birth,
    Who dies a virgin, lives a saint on earth.


    Philotis    Then farewell, world, and worldly thoughts, adieu!
    Welcome, chaste vows, myself I yield to you.


    [Exeunt.]



    Scene 3




    [Enter Soranzo unbraced, and dragging in Annabella.]


    Soranzo   Come, strumpet, famous whore! were every drop
    Of blood that runs in thy adulterous veins
    A life, this sword (dost see't?) should in one blow
    Confound them all. Harlot, rare, notable harlot,
    That with thy brazen face maintain'st thy sin,
    Was there no man in Parma to be bawd
    To your loose cunning whoredom else but I?
    Must your hot itch and pleurisy of lust,
    The heyday of your luxury, be fed
    Up to a surfeit, and could none but I
    Be pick'd out to be cloak to your close tricks,
    Your belly-sports?—Now I must be the dad
    To all that gallimaufry that is stuff'd
    In thy corrupted bastard-bearing womb!—
    Why, must I?


    Annabella   Beastly man! Why?—'tis thy fate.
    I sued not to thee; for, but that I thought
    Your over-loving lordship would have run
    Mad on denial, had you lent me time,
    I would have told you in what case I was:
    But you would needs be doing.


    Soranzo   Whore of whores!
    Darest thou tell me this?


    Annabella   Oh, yes; why not?
    You were deceived in me; 'twas not for love
    I chose you, but for honour; yet know this,
    Would you be patient yet, and hide your shame,
    I'd see whether I could love you.


    Soranzo   Excellent quean!
    Why, art thou not with child?


    Annabella   What needs all this,
    When 'tis superfluous? I confess I am.


    Soranzo   Tell me by whom.


    Annabella   Soft, 'twas not in my bargain.
    Yet somewhat, sir, to stay your longing stomach
    I am content t' acquaint you with; THE man,
    The more than man, that got this sprightly boy,—
    (For 'tis a boy, [and] therefore glory, sir,
    Your heir shall be a son)


    Soranzo   Damnable monster!


    Annabella   Nay, an you will not hear, I'll speak no more.


    Soranzo   Yes, speak, and speak thy last.


    Annabella   A match, a match!
    This noble creature was in every part
    So angel-like, so glorious, that a woman,
    Who had not been but human, as was I,
    Would have kneel'd to him, and have begg'd for love.—
    You! why you are not worthy once to name
    His name without true worship, or, indeed,
    Unless you kneel'd, to hear another name him.


    Soranzo   What was he call'd?


    Annabella   We are not come to that;
    Let it suffice, that you shall have the glory
    To father what so brave a father got.
    In brief, had not this chance fall'n out as it doth,
    I never had been troubled with a thought
    That you had been a creature;—but for marriage,
    I scarce dream yet of that.


    Soranzo   Tell me his name.


    Annabella   Alas, alas, there's all! will you believe?


    Soranzo   What?


    Annabella   You shall never know.


    Soranzo   How!


    Annabella   Never; if
    You do, let me be curs'd.


    Soranzo   Not know it, strumpet! I'll rip up thy heart,
    And find it there.


    Annabella   Do, do.


    Soranzo   And with my teeth,
    Tear the prodigious lecher joint by joint.


    Annabella   Ha, ha, ha! the man's merry.


    Soranzo   Dost thou laugh?
    Come, whore, tell me your lover, or by truth
    I'll hew thy flesh to shreds; who is 't?


    Annabella   [Sings.] Che morte piu dolce che morire per amore?


    Soranzo   Thus will I pull thy hair, and thus I'll drag
    Thy lust beleper'd body through the dust
    [Hales her up and down.] Yet tell his name.


    Annabella   [Sings.] Morendo in grazia dee morire senza dolore?


    Soranzo   Dost thou triumph? the treasure of the earth
    Shall not redeem thee; were there kneeling kings
    Did beg thy life, or angels did come down
    To plead in tears, yet should not all prevail
    Against my rage: dost thou not tremble yet?


    Annabella   At what? to die! no, be a gallant hangman;
    I dare thee to the worst: strike, and strike home;
    I leave revenge behind, and thou shalt feel it.


    Soranzo   Yet tell me ere thou diest, and tell me truly,
    Knows thy old father this?


    Annabella   No, by my life.


    Soranzo   Wilt thou confess, and I will spare thy life?


    Annabella   My life! I will not buy my life so dear.


    Soranzo   I will not slack my vengeance. [Draws his sword.]


    [Enter Vasques.]


    Vasques   What do you mean, sir?


    Soranzo   Forbear, Vasques; such a damned whore
    Deserves no pity.


    Vasques   Now the gods forefend!
    And would you be her executioner, and kill her in your rage, too? Oh,
    'twere most unmanlike; she is your wife, what faults have been done by her
    before she married you, were not against you: alas! poor lady, what hath
    she committed, which any lady in Italy in the like case would not? Sir, you
    must be ruled by your reason, and not by your fury; that were inhuman and
    beastly.


    Soranzo   She shall not live.


    Vasques   Come, she must: you would have her confess the authors of her
    present misfortunes, I warrant you; 'tis an unconscionable demand, and she
    should lose the estimation that I, for my part, hold of her worth, if she
    had done it: why, sir, you ought not, of all men living, to know it. Good
    sir, be reconciled; alas, good gentlewoman!


    Annabella   Pish, do not beg for me, I prize my life
    As nothing; if the man will needs be mad,
    Why, let him take it.


    Soranzo   Vasques, hear'st thou this?


    Vasques   Yes, and commend her for it; in this she shows the nobleness of a
    gallant spirit, and beshrew my heart, but it becomes her rarely. —[Aside
    to Soranzo.] Sir, in any case smother your revenge; leave the scenting out
    your wrongs to me; be ruled, as you respect your honour, or you mar all.—
    [Aloud.] Sir, if ever my service were of any credit with you, be not so
    violent in your distractions: you are married now; what a triumph might the
    report of this give to other neglected suitors! 'tis as manlike to bear
    extremities, as godlike to forgive.


    Soranzo   Oh, Vasques, Vasques, in this piece of flesh,
    This faithless face of hers, had I laid up
    The treasure of my heart. Hadst thou been virtuous,
    Fair, wicked woman, not the matchless joys
    Of life itself, had made me wish to live
    With any saint but thee: deceitful creature,
    How hast thou mock'd my hopes, and in the shame
    Of thy lewd womb even buried me alive!
    I did too dearly love thee.


    Vasques   [Aside to Soranzo.] This is well; follow this temper with some
    passion; be brief and moving, 'tis for the purpose.


    Soranzo   Be witness to my words thy soul and thoughts;
    And tell me, didst not think that in my heart
    I did too superstitiously adore thee?


    Annabella   I must confess, I know you lov'd me well.


    Soranzo   And wouldst thou use me thus! O Annabella!
    Be thou assured, whoe'er the villain was
    That thus hath tempted thee to this disgrace,
    Well he might lust, but never loved like me.
    He doted on the picture that hung out
    Upon thy cheeks, to please his humorous eye;
    For on the part I lov'd, which was thy heart,
    And, as I thought, thy virtues.


    Annabella   Oh, my lord!
    These words wound deeper than your sword could do.


    Vasques   Let me not ever take comfort, but I begin to weep myself, so much I
    pity him; why, madam, I knew, when his rage was overpast, what it would
    come to.


    Soranzo   Forgive me, Annabella: though thy youth
    Hath tempted thee above thy strength to folly,
    Yet will I not forget what I should be,
    And what I am, a husband; in that name
    Is hid divinity: if I do find
    That thou wilt yet be true, here I remit
    All former faults, and take thee to my bosom.


    Vasques   By my troth, and that's a point of noble charity.


    Annabella   Sir, on my knees—


    Soranzo   Rise up, you shall not kneel.
    Get you to your chamber, see you make no show
    Of alteration; I'll be with you straight:
    My reason tells me now, that ” 'tis as common
    To err in frailty as to be a woman”.
    Go to your chamber.


    [Exit Annabella.]


    Vasques   So! this was somewhat to the matter: what do you think of your
    heaven of happiness now, sir?


    Soranzo   I carry hell about me, all my blood
    Is fired in swift revenge.


    Vasques   That may be; but know you how, or on whom? Alas! to marry a great
    woman, being made great in the stock to your hand, is a usual sport in
    these days; but to know what ferret it was that hunted your coney-burrow,—
    there is the cunning.


    Soranzo   I'll make her tell herself, or—


    Vasques   Or what? you must not do so; let me yet persuade your sufferance a
    little while: go to her, use her mildly; win her, if it be possible, to a
    voluntary, to a weeping tune; for the rest, if all hit, I will not miss my
    mark. Pray, sir, go in; the next news I tell you shall be wonders.


    Soranzo   Delay in vengeance gives a heavier blow.


    [Exit.]


    Vasques   Ah, sirrah, here's work for the nonce! I had a suspicion of a bad
    matter in my head a pretty while ago; but after my madam's scurvy looks
    here at home, her waspish perverseness, and loud fault-finding, then I
    remembered the proverb, that “where hens crow, and cocks hold their peace,
    there are sorry houses.” 'sfoot, if the lower parts of a she-tailor's
    cunning can cover such a swelling in the stomach, I'll never blame a false
    stitch in a shoe whilst I live again. Up, and up so quick? and so quickly
    too? 'twere a fine policy to learn by whom: this must be known; and I have
    thought on 't—


    [Enter Putana, in tears.]


    Here's the way, or none.—What, crying, old mistress! alas, alas, I cannot
    blame you; we have a lord, Heaven help us, is so mad as the devil himself,
    the more shame for him.


    Putana   Oh, Vasques, that ever I was born to see this day! Doth he use thee
    so too, sometimes, Vasques?


    Vasques   Me? why he makes a dog of me; but if some were of my mind, I know
    what we would do. As sure as I am an honest man, he will go near to kill my
    lady with unkindness: say she be with child, is that such a matter for a
    young woman of her years to be blamed for?


    Putana   Alas, good heart, it is against her will full sore.


    Vasques   I durst be sworn, all his madness is for that she will not confess
    whose 'tis, which he will know; and when he doth know it, I am so well
    acquainted with his humour, that he will forget all strait: well, I could
    wish she would in plain terms tell all, for that's the way, indeed.


    Putana   Do you think so?


    Vasques   Foh, I know it; provided that he did not win her to it by force. He
    was once in a mind that you could tell, and meant to have wrung it out of
    you; but I somewhat pacified him from that; yet sure you know a great deal.


    Putana   Heaven forgive us all! I know a little, Vasques.


    Vasques   Why should you not? who else should? Upon my conscience she loves
    you dearly; and you would not betray her to any affliction for the world.


    Putana   Not for all the world, by my faith and troth, Vasques.


    Vasques   'Twere pity of your life if you should; but in this you should both
    relieve her present discomforts, pacify my lord, and gain yourself
    everlasting love and preferment.


    Putana   Dost think so, Vasques?


    Vasques   Nay, I know it; sure it was some near and entire friend.


    Putana   'Twas a dear friend indeed; but—


    Vasques   But what? fear not to name him: my life between you and danger:
    'faith, I think it was no base fellow.


    Putana   Thou wilt stand between me and harm?


    Vasques   'Uds pity, what else? you shall be rewarded too, trust me.


    Putana   'Twas even no worse than her own brother.


    Vasques   Her brother Giovanni, I warrant you!


    Putana   Even he, Vasques; as brave a gentleman as ever kiss'd fair lady. Oh,
    they love most perpetually.


    Vasques   [Aside.] A brave gentleman indeed! why therein I commend her choice
    —better and better—[Aloud.] You are sure 'twas he?


    Putana   Sure; and you shall see he will not be long from her too.


    Vasques   He were to blame if he would; but may I believe thee?


    Putana   Believe me! why, dost think I am a Turk or a Jew? No, Vasques, I
    have known their dealings too long, to belie them now.


    Vasques   Where are you? there, within, sirs!


    [Enter Banditti.]


    Putana   How now, what are these?


    Vasques   You shall know presently. Come, sirs, take me this old damnable
    hag, gag her instantly, and put out her eyes, quickly, quickly!


    Putana   Vasques! Vasques!


    Vasques   Gag her, I say; 'sfoot, do you suffer her to prate? what do you
    fumble about? Let me come to her. I'll help your old gums, you toad-bellied
    bitch! [They gag her.] Sirs, carry her closely into the coal-house, and put
    out her eyes instantly; if she roars, slit her nose; do you hear, be speedy
    and sure.


    [Exeunt Banditti with Putana.]


    Why this is excellent, and above expectation—her own brother! Oh,
    horrible! to what a height of liberty in damnation hath the devil trained
    our age! her brother, well! there's yet but a beginning; I must to my lord,
    and tutor him better in his points of vengeance: now I see how a smooth
    tale goes beyond a smooth tail; but soft—what thing comes next? Giovanni!
    as I could wish; my belief is strengthened, 'tis as firm as winter and
    summer.


    [Enter Giovanni.]


    Giovanni   Where's my sister?


    Vasques   Troubled with a new sickness, my lord; she's somewhat ill.


    Giovanni   Took too much of the flesh, I believe.


    Vasques   Troth, sir, and you I think have even hit it; but my virtuous lady



    Giovanni   Where is she?


    Vasques   In her chamber; please you visit her; she is alone. [Giovanni gives
    him money.] Your liberality hath doubly made me your servant, and ever
    shall, ever—


    [Exit Giovanni, re-enter Soranzo.]


    Sir, I am made a man; I have plied my cue with cunning and success; I
    beseech you let us be private.


    Soranzo   My lady's brother's come; now he'll know all.


    Vasques   Let him know it; I have made some of them fast enough. How have you
    dealt with my lady?


    Soranzo   Gently, as thou hast counsell'd; oh, my soul
    Runs circular in sorrow for revenge;
    But, Vasques, thou shalt know


    Vasques   Nay, I will know no more, for now comes your turn to know; I would
    not talk so openly with you—let my young master take time enough, and go
    at pleasure; he is sold to death, and the devil shall not ransom him.—
    Sir, I beseech you, your privacy.


    Soranzo   No conquest can gain glory of my fear.


    [Exeunt.]





    Act 5


    Scene 1


    [Annabella appears at a window, above.]


    Annabella   Pleasures, farewell, and all ye thriftless minutes
    Wherein false joys have spun a weary life!
    To these my fortunes now I take my leave.
    Thou, precious Time, that swiftly rid'st in post
    Over the world, to finish up the race
    Of my last fate, here stay thy restless course,
    And bear to ages that are yet unborn
    A wretched, woeful woman's tragedy!
    My conscience now stands up against my lust,
    With depositions character'd in guilt,


    [Enter Friar, below.]


    And tells me I am lost: now I confess;
    Beauty that clothes the outside of the face,
    Is cursed if it be not cloth'd with grace.
    Here like a turtle, (mew'd up in a cage)
    Unmated, I converse with air and walls,
    And descant on my vile unhappiness.
    O Giovanni! that hast had the spoil
    Of thine own virtues, and my modest fame;
    Would thou hadst been less subject to those stars
    That luckless reign'd at my nativity!
    Oh, would the scourge, due to my black offence,
    Might pass from thee, that I alone might feel
    The torment of an uncontrolled flame!


    Friar   What's this I hear?


    Annabella   That man, that blessed friar,
    Who join'd in ceremonial knot my hand
    To him whose wife I now am, told me oft,
    I trod the path to death, and show'd me how.
    But they who sleep in lethargies of lust,
    Hug their confusion, making Heaven unjust;
    And so did I.


    Friar   Here's music to the soul!


    Annabella   Forgive me, my good Genius, and this once
    Be helpful to my ends; let some good man
    Pass this way, to whose trust I may commit
    This paper, double lined with tears and blood;
    Which being granted, here I sadly vow
    Repentance, and a leaving of that life
    I long have died in.


    Friar   Lady, Heaven hath heard you,
    And hath by providence ordain'd that I
    Should be his minister for your behoof.


    Annabella   Ha, what are you?


    Friar   Your brother's friend, the friar;
    Glad in my soul that I have liv'd to hear
    This free confession 'twixt your peace and you:
    What would you, or to whom? fear not to speak.


    Annabella   Is Heaven so bountiful?—then I have found
    More favour than I hoped; here, holy man—


    [Throws down a letter.]


    Commend me to my brother, give him that,
    That letter; bid him read it, and repent.
    Tell him that I, imprison'd in my chamber,
    Barr'd of all company, even of my guardian,
    (Which gives me cause of much suspect) have time
    To blush at what hath passed; bid him be wise,
    And not believe the friendship of my lord;
    I fear much more than I can speak: good Father,
    The place is dangerous, and spies are busy.
    I must break off. You'll do 't?


    Friar   Be sure I will,
    And fly with speed: my blessing ever rest
    With thee, my daughter; live, to die more blest!


    [Exit.]


    Annabella   Thanks to the heavens, who have prolong'd my breath
    To this good use! now I can welcome death.


    [Withdraws from the window.]



    Scene 2




    [Enter Soranzo and Vasques.]


    Vasques   Am I to be believed now? first, marry a strumpet that cast herself
    away upon you but to laugh at your horns! to feast on your disgrace, riot
    in your vexations, cuckold you in your bride-bed, waste your estate upon
    panders and bawds!


    Soranzo   No more, I say, no more.


    Vasques   A cuckold is a goodly tame beast, my lord!


    Soranzo   I am resolv'd; urge not another word;
    My thoughts are great, and all as resolute
    As thunder; in meantime, I'll cause our lady
    To deck herself in all her bridal robes;
    Kiss her, and fold her gently in my arms.
    Begone—yet hear you, are the banditti ready
    To wait in ambush?


    Vasques   Good sir, trouble not yourself about other business than your own
    resolution; remember that time lost cannot be recalled.


    Soranzo   With all the cunning words thou canst, invite
    The states of Parma to my birthday's feast:
    Haste to my brother-rival and his father,
    Entreat them gently, bid them not to fail;
    Be speedy, and return.


    Vasques   Let not your pity betray you, till my coming back; think upon
    incest and cuckoldry.


    Soranzo   Revenge is all the ambition I aspire,
    To that I'll climb or fall; my blood's on fire.


    [Exeunt.]



    Scene 3




    [Enter Giovanni.]


    Giovanni   Busy opinion is an idle fool,
    That, as a school-rod keeps a child in awe,
    Frights th' unexperienced temper of the mind:
    So did it me; who, ere my precious sister
    Was married, thought all taste of love would die
    In such a contract; but I find no change
    Of pleasure in this formal law of sports.
    She is still one to me, and every kiss
    As sweet and as delicious as the first
    I reap'd, when yet the privilege of youth
    Entitled her a virgin. Oh, the glory
    Of two united hearts like hers and mine!
    Let poring bookmen dream of other worlds;
    My world, and all of happiness, is here,
    And I'd not change it for the best to come:
    A life of pleasure is Elysium.—


    [Enter Friar.]


    Father, you enter on the jubilee
    Of my retired delights; now I can tell you,
    The hell you oft have prompted, is nought else
    But slavish and fond superstitious fear;
    And I could prove it too—


    Friar   Thy blindness slays thee:
    Look there, 'tis writ to thee.


    [Gives him the letter.]


    Giovanni   From whom?


    Friar   Unrip the seals and see;
    The blood's yet seething hot, that will anon
    Be frozen harder than congealed coral.—
    Why d' ye change colour, son?


    Giovanni   'Fore heaven, you make
    Some petty devil factor 'twixt my love
    And your religion-masked sorceries.
    Where had you this?


    Friar   Thy conscience, youth, is sear'd,
    Else thou wouldst stoop to warning.


    Giovanni   'Tis her hand,
    I know 't; and 'tis all written in her blood.
    She writes I know not what. Death! I'll not fear
    An armed thunderbolt aim'd at my heart.
    She writes, we are discover'd—pox on dreams
    Of low faint-hearted cowardice!—discover'd?
    The devil we are! which way is 't possible?
    Are we grown traitors to our own delights?
    Confusion take such dotage! 'tis but forged;
    This is your peevish chattering, weak old man!—
    Now, sir, what news bring you?


    [Enter Vasques.]


    Vasques   My lord, according to his yearly custom, keeping this day a feast
    in honour of his birthday, by me invites you thither. Your worthy father,
    with the Pope's reverend nuncio, and other magnificoes of Parma, have
    promised their presence; will 't please you to be of the number?


    Giovanni   Yes, tell [him] I dare come.


    Vasques   Dare come?


    Giovanni   So I said; and tell him more, I will come.


    Vasques   These words are strange to me.


    Giovanni   Say, I will come.


    Vasques   You will not miss?


    Giovanni   Yet more! I'll come, sir. Are you answered?


    Vasques   So I'll say my service to you.


    [Exit.]


    Friar   You will not go, I trust.


    Giovanni   Not go! for what?


    Friar   Oh, do not go; this feast, I'll gage my life,
    Is but a plot to train you to your ruin;
    Be ruled, you shall not go.


    Giovanni   Not go! stood Death
    Threatening his armies of confounding plagues,
    With hosts of dangers hot as blazing stars,
    I would be there; not go! yes, and resolve
    To strike as deep in slaughter as they all;
    For I will go.


    Friar   Go where thou wilt;—I see
    The wildness of thy fate draws to an end,
    To a bad fearful end:—I must not stay
    To know thy fall; back to Bononia I
    With speed will haste, and shun this coming blow.
    Parma, farewell; would I had never known thee,
    Or aught of thine! Well, young man, since no prayer
    Can make thee safe, I leave thee to despair.


    [Exit.]


    Giovanni   Despair, or tortures of a thousand hells,
    All's one to me; I have set up my rest.
    Now, now, work serious thoughts on baneful plots;
    Be all a man, my soul; let not the curse
    Of old prescription rend from me the gall
    Of courage, which enrolls a glorious death:
    If I must totter like a well-grown oak,
    Some under-shrubs shall in my weighty fall
    Be crush'd to splits; with me they all shall perish!


    [Exit.]



    Scene 4




    [Enter Soranzo, Vasques with masques, and Banditti.]


    Soranzo   You will not fail, or shrink in the attempt?


    Vasques   I will undertake for their parts; be sure, my masters, to be bloody
    enough, and as unmerciful as if you were preying upon a rich booty on the
    very mountains of Liguria: for your pardons, trust to my lord; but for
    reward, you shall trust none but your own pockets.


    Banditti   We'll make a murder.


    Soranzo   Here's gold, [Gives them money.] here's more; want nothing; what
    you do
    Is noble, and an act of brave revenge:
    I'll make you rich, banditti, and all free.


    Omnes   Liberty! liberty!


    Vasques   Hold, take every man a vizard; when you are withdrawn, keep as much
    silence as you can possibly. You know the watchword, till which be spoken,
    move not; but when you hear that, rush in like a stormy flood: I need not
    instruct you in your own profession.


    Omnes   No, no, no.


    Vasques   In, then; your ends are profit and preferment. —Away!


    [Exeunt Banditti.]


    Soranzo   The guests will all come, Vasques?


    Vasques   Yes, sir. And now let me a little edge your resolution: you see
    nothing is unready to this great work, but a great mind in you; call to
    your remembrance your disgraces, your loss of honour, Hippolita's blood,
    and arm your courage in your own wrongs; so shall you best right those
    wrongs in vengeance, which you may truly call your own.


    Soranzo   'Tis well; the less I speak, the more I burn,
    And blood shall quench that flame.


    Vasques   Now you begin to turn Italian. This beside; when my young incest-
    monger comes, he will be sharp set on his old bit: give him time enough,
    let him have your chamber and bed at liberty; let my hot hare have law ere
    he be hunted to his death, that, if it be possible, he post to hell in the
    very act of his damnation.


    Soranzo   It shall be so; and see, as we would wish,
    He comes himself first—


    [Enter Giovanni.]


    Welcome, my much-lov'd brother;
    Now I perceive you honour me; you are welcome—
    But where's my father?


    Giovanni   With the other states,
    Attending on the nuncio of the Pope,
    To wait upon him hither. How's my sister?


    Soranzo   Like a good housewife, scarcely ready yet;
    You were best walk to her chamber.


    Giovanni   If you will.


    Soranzo   I must expect my honourable friends;
    Good brother, get her forth.


    Giovanni   You are busy, sir.


    [Exit.]


    Vasques   Even as the great devil himself would have it! let him go and glut
    himself in his own destruction—


    [Flourish.]


    —Hark, the nuncio is at hand; good sir, be ready to receive him.


    [Enter Cardinal, Florio, Donado, Richardetto, and Attendants.]


    Soranzo   Most reverend lord, this grace hath made me proud,
    That you vouchsafe my house; I ever rest
    Your humble servant for this noble favour.


    Cardinal   You are our friend, my lord; His Holiness
    Shall understand how zealously you honour
    Saint Peter's vicar in his substitute:
    Our special love to you.


    Soranzo   Signiors, to you
    My welcome, and my ever best of thanks
    For this so memorable courtesy.
    Pleaseth your grace, walk near?


    Cardinal   My lord, we come
    To celebrate your feast with civil mirth,
    As ancient custom teacheth: we will go.


    Soranzo   Attend his grace there. Signiors, keep your way.


    [Exeunt.]


       

    Scene 5




    [Annabella, richly dressed, and Giovanni.]


    Giovanni   What, chang'd so soon! hath your new sprightly lord
    Found out a trick in night-games more than we
    Could know, in our simplicity?—Ha! is 't so?
    Or does the fit come on you, to prove treacherous
    To your past vows and oaths?


    Annabella   Why should you jest
    At my calamity, without all sense
    Of the approaching dangers you are in?


    Giovanni   What dangers half so great as thy revolt?
    Thou art a faithless sister, else thou know'st,
    Malice, or any treachery beside,
    Would stoop to my bent brows; why, I hold fate
    Clasp'd in my fist, and could command the course
    Of time's eternal motion, hadst thou been
    One thought more steady than an ebbing sea.
    And what? you'll now be honest, that's resolv'd?


    Annabella   Brother, dear brother, know what I have been,
    And know that now there's but a dining-time
    'Twixt us and our confusion; let's not waste
    These precious hours in vain and useless speech.
    Alas! these gay attires were not put on
    But to some end; this sudden solemn feast
    Was not ordain'd to riot in expense;
    I that have now been chamber'd here alone,
    Barr'd of my guardian, or of any else,
    Am not for nothing at an instant freed
    To fresh access. Be not deceiv'd, my brother,
    This banquet is an harbinger of death
    To you and me; resolve yourself it is,
    And be prepared to welcome it.


    Giovanni   Well, then;
    The schoolmen teach that all this globe of earth
    Shall be consumed to ashes in a minute.


    Annabella   So I have read too.


    Giovanni   But 'twere somewhat strange
    To see the waters burn; could I believe
    This might be true, I could believe as well
    There might be hell or heaven.


    Annabella   That's most certain.


    Giovanni   A dream, a dream! else in this other world
    We should know one another.


    Annabella   So we shall.


    Giovanni   Have you heard so?


    Annabella   For certain.


    Giovanni   But do you think,
    That I shall see you there? You look on me.—
    May we kiss one another, prate, or laugh,
    Or do as we do here?


    Annabella   I know not that;
    But—brother, for the present, what d' ye mean
    To free yourself from danger? some way think
    How to escape; I'm sure the guests are come.


    Giovanni   Look up, look here; what see you in my face?


    Annabella   Distraction and a troubled conscience.


    Giovanni   Death, and a swift repining wrath:—yet look;
    What see you in mine eyes?


    Annabella   Methinks you weep.


    Giovanni   I do indeed; these are the funeral tears
    Shed on your grave; these furrow'd up my cheeks
    When first I lov'd and knew not how to woo.
    Fair Annabella, should I here repeat
    The story of my life, we might lose time.
    Be record, all the spirits of the air,
    And all things else that are, that day and night,
    Early and late, the tribute which my heart
    Hath paid to Annabella's sacred love,
    Hath been these tears, which are her mourners now!
    Never till now did Nature do her best,
    To show a matchless beauty to the world,
    Which in an instant, ere it scarce was seen,
    The jealous destinies required again.
    Pray, Annabella, pray! since we must part,
    Go thou, white in thy soul, to fill a throne
    Of innocence and sanctity in heaven.
    Pray, pray, my sister!


    Annabella   Then I see your drift
    Ye blessed angels guard me!


    Giovanni   So say I;
    Kiss me. If ever aftertimes should hear
    Of our fast-knit affections, though perhaps
    The laws of conscience and of civil use
    May justly blame us, yet when they but know
    Our loves, that love will wipe away that rigour,
    Which would in other incests be abhorr'd.
    Give me your hand: how sweetly life doth run
    In these well-colour'd veins! how constantly
    These palms do promise health! but I could chide
    With Nature for this cunning flattery—
    Kiss me again—forgive me.


    Annabella   With my heart.


    Giovanni   Farewell!


    Annabella   Will you be gone?


    Giovanni   Be dark, bright sun,
    And make this midday night, that thy gilt rays
    May not behold a deed, will turn their splendour
    More sooty than the poets feign their Styx!
    One other kiss, my sister.


    Annabella   What means this?


    Giovanni   To save thy fame, and kill thee in a kiss.


    [Stabs her.]


    Thus die, and die by me, and by my hand!
    Revenge is mine; honour doth love command.


    Annabella   Oh, brother, by your hand!


    Giovanni   When thou art dead
    I'll give my reasons for 't; for to dispute
    With thy (even in thy death) most lovely beauty,
    Would make me stagger to perform this act
    Which I most glory in.


    Annabella   Forgive him, Heaven—and me my sins! farewell,
    Brother unkind,unkind,—mercy, great Heaven, oh—oh!


    [Dies.]


    Giovanni   She's dead, alas, good soul! The hapless fruit
    That in her womb received its life from me,
    Hath had from me a cradle and a grave.
    I must not dally—this sad marriage-bed
    In all her best, bore her alive and dead.
    Soranzo, thou hast miss'd thy aim in this!
    I have prevented now thy reaching plots,
    And kill'd a love, for whose each drop of blood
    I would have pawn'd my heart. Fair Annabella,
    How over-glorious art thou in thy wounds,
    Triumphing over infamy and hate!
    Shrink not, courageous hand, stand up, my heart,
    And boldly act my last, and greater part!


    [The scene closes.]





    Scene 6




    [A banquet. Enter the Cardinal, Florio, Donaldo, Sorarizo, Richardetto,
    Vasquces, and Attendants.]


    Vasques   [Apart to Soranza ] Remember, sir, what you have to do; be wise and
    resolute.


    Soranzo   Enough—my heart is fix'd.—Pleaseth your grace
    To taste these coarse confections: though the use
    Of such set entertainments more consists
    In custom, than in cause, yet, reverend sir,
    I am still made your servant by your presence.


    Cardinal   And we your friend.


    Soranzo   But where's my brother Giovanni?


    [Enter Giovanni, with a heart upon his dagger.]


    Giovanni   Here, here, Soranzo! trimm'd in reeling blood,
    That triumphs over death! proud in the spoil
    Of love and vengeance! fate, or all the powers
    That guide the motions of immortal souls,
    Could not prevent me.


    Cardinal   What means this?


    Florio   Son Giovanni!


    Soranzo   [Aside.] Shall I be forestall'd?


    Giovanni   Be not amazed: if your misgiving hearts
    Shrink at an idle sight, what bloodless fear
    Of coward passion would have seiz'd your senses,
    Had you beheld the rape of life and beauty
    Which I have acted?—my sister, oh, my sister!


    Florio   Ha! what of her?


    Giovanni   The glory of my deed
    Darken'd the midday sun, made noon as night.
    You came to feast, my lords, with dainty fare,
    I came to feast too; but I digg'd for food
    In a much richer mine, than gold or stone
    Of any value balanced; 'tis a heart,
    A heart, my lords, in which is mine entomb'd:
    Look well upon 't; do you know it?


    Vasques   [Aside.] What strange riddle's this?


    Giovanni   'Tis Annabella's heart, 'tis; why do you startle?
    I vow 'tis hers;—this dagger's point plough'd up
    Her fruitful womb, and left to me the fame
    Of a most glorious executioner.


    Florio   Why, madman, art thyself?


    Giovanni   Yes, father; and, that times to come may know,
    How, as my fate, I honour'd my revenge,
    List, father; to your ears I will yield up
    How much I have deserv'd to be your son.


    Florio   What is 't thou say'st?


    Giovanni   Nine moons have had their changes,
    Since I first thoroughly view'd, and truly lov'd,
    Your daughter and my sister.


    Florio   How? Alas, my lords,
    He is a frantic madman!


    Giovanni   Father, no.
    For nine months space, in secret, I enjoy'd
    Sweet Annabella's sheets; nine months I lived
    A happy monarch of her heart and her;
    Soranzo, thou know'st this; thy paler cheek
    Bears the confounding print of thy disgrace;
    For her too fruitful womb too soon betray'd
    The happy passage of our stolen delights,
    And made her mother to a child unborn.


    Cardinal   Incestuous villain!


    Florio   Oh, his rage belies him.


    Giovanni   It does not, 'tis the oracle of truth;
    I vow it is so.


    Soranzo   I shall burst with fury
    Bring the strumpet forth!


    Vasques   I shall, sir.


    [Exit.]


    Giovanni   Do, sir; have you all no faith
    To credit yet my triumphs? here I swear
    By all that you call sacred, by the love
    I bore my Annabella whilst she lived,
    These hands have from her bosom ripp'd this heart.—


    [Re-enter Vasques.]


    Is 't true or no, sir?


    Vasques   'Tis most strangely true.


    Florio   Cursed man—have I lived to—[Dies.]


    Cardinal   Hold up, Florio.
    Monster of children! see what thou hast done,
    Broke thy old father's heart! is none of you
    Dares venture on him?


    Giovanni   Let them! Oh, my father,
    How well his death becomes him in his griefs!
    Why this was done with courage; now survives
    None of our house but I, gilt in the blood
    Of a fair sister and a hapless father.


    Soranzo   Inhuman scorn of men, hast thou a thought
    T' outlive thy murders? [Draws.]


    Giovanni   Yes, I tell thee yes;
    For in my fists I bear the twists of life.
    Soranzo, see this heart, which was thy wife's;
    Thus I exchange it royally for thine.


    [They fight.]


    And thus and thus! now brave revenge is mine.


    [Soranzo falls.]


    Vasques   I cannot hold any longer. You, sir, are you grown insolent in your
    butcheries? have at you.


    Giovanni   Come, I am arm'd to meet thee.


    [They fight.]


    Vasques   No! will it not be yet? if this will not, another shall. Not yet? I
    shall fit you anon—VENGEANCE!


    [The Banditti rush in.]


    Giovanni   Welcome! come more of you; whate'er you be,
    I dare your worst—


    [They surround and wound him.]


    Oh, I can stand no longer; feeble arms,
    Have you so soon lost strength? [Falls.]


    Vasques   Now, you are welcome, sir! [Aside to Banditti.] Away, my masters,
    all is done; shift for yourselves, your reward is your own; shift for
    yourselves.


    Banditti   Away,away!


    [Exeunt.]


    Vasques   How do you, my lord? See you this? [Pointing to Giovanni.] how is
    't?


    Soranzo   Dead; but in death well pleas'd, that I have liv'd
    To see my wrongs reveng'd on that black devil.—
    Oh, Vasques, to thy bosom let me give
    My last of breath; let not that lecher live
    Oh!


    [Dies.]


    Vasques   The reward of peace and rest be with [you], my ever dearest lord
    and master!


    Giovanni   Whose hand gave me this wound?


    Vasques   Mine, sir; I was your first man; have you enough?


    Giovanni   I thank thee, thou hast done for me
    But what I would have else done on myself.
    Art sure thy lord is dead?


    Vasques   Oh, impudent slave!
    As sure as I am sure to see thee die.


    Cardinal   Think on thy life and end, and call for mercy.


    Giovanni   Mercy? why, I have found it in this justice.


    Cardinal   Strive yet to cry to Heaven.


    Giovanni   Oh, I bleed fast.
    Death, thou 'rt a guest long look'd for, I embrace
    Thee and thy wounds; oh, my last minute comes!
    Where'er I go, let me enjoy this grace,
    Freely to view my Annabella's face.


    [Dies.]


    Donado   Strange miracle of justice!


    Cardinal   Raise up the city, we shall be murder'd all!


    Vasques   You need not fear, you shall not; this strange task being ended, I
    have paid the duty to the son, which I have vowed to the father.


    Cardinal   Speak, wretched villain, what incarnate fiend
    Hath led thee on to this?


    Vasques   Honesty, and pity of my master's wrongs: for know, my lord, I am by
    birth a Spaniard, brought forth my country in my youth by Lord Soranzo's
    father; whom, whilst he lived, I served faithfully; since whose death I
    have been to this man, as I was to him. What I have done, was duty, and I
    repent nothing, but that the loss of my life had not ransomed his.


    Cardinal   Say, fellow, know'st thou any yet unnam'd,
    Of council in this incest?


    Vasques   Yes, an old woman, sometime guardian to this murder'd lady.


    Cardinal   And what's become of her?


    Vasques   Within this room she is; whose eyes, after her confession, I caused
    to be put out, but kept alive, to confirm what from Giovanni's own mouth
    you have heard. Now, my lord, what I have done you may judge of; and let
    your own wisdom be a judge in your own reason.


    Cardinal   Peace! first this woman, chief in these effects,
    My sentence is, that forthwith she be ta'en
    Out of the city, for example's sake,
    There to be burnt to ashes.


    Donado   'Tis most just.


    Cardinal   Be it your charge, Donado, see it done.


    Donado   I shall.


    Vasques   What for me? if death, 'tis welcome; I have been honest to the son,
    as I was to the father.


    Cardinal   Fellow, for thee, since what thou didst was done
    Not for thyself, being no Italian,
    We banish thee for ever; to depart
    Within three days: in this we do dispense
    With grounds of reason, not of thine offence.


    Vasques   'Tis well; this conquest is mine, and I rejoice that a
    Spaniard outwent an Italian in revenge.


    [Exit.]


    Cardinal   Take up these slaughter'd bodies, see them buried;
    And all the gold and jewels, or whatsoever,
    Confiscate by the canons of the Church,
    We seize upon to the Pope's proper use.


    Richardetto   [Discovers himself.] Your grace's pardon; thus long I liv'd
    disguised,
    To see the effect of pride and lust at once
    Brought both to shameful ends.


    Cardinal   What! Richardetto, whom we thought for dead?


    Donado   Sir, was it you—


    Richardetto   Your friend.


    Cardinal   We shall have time
    To talk at large of all; but never yet
    Incest and murder have so strangely met.
    Of one so young, so rich in nature's store,
    Who could not say, 'TIS PITY SHE'S A WHORE?


    [Exeunt.]