THE Turk.  
A Worthy tragedy.  
As it hath been divers times acted by the Children of his majesties Revels.  
Written by john Mason Master of Arts.  
Sume superbiam quesitam meritis Horat.  
LONDON. Printed by E. A. for john busby and are to be sold at his shop in S. Dunston's Churchyard in Fleetstreet. 1619.   

Scaenarum Personae.  
muleasses 
the Turk  Borgias 
Governor of Florence.  Duke of Venice. 
 Duke of Ferrara. 
 Bordello 
an humorous traveller.  Pantofle 
his Page  Eunuchus 
servant to Borgias  Lord of Florence. 
 Phego 
a gentleman usher.  Philenzo 
a gentleman of Ferrara:  Prusias. 
a gentleman of Venice  A friar 
 julia 
Duchess of Florence.  Timoclea 
Borgias wife  Amada 
his daughter  Madam Fulsome 
an old Gentlewoman    

Prologus  
THe marks and notions extant in each spirit,  
Sealed by th'industrious hand of art & merit,  
methinks appear transparent (as the mind  
By sense were bounded and might seem confined  
In th'external eye) nor shall our tragic muse,  
(If strong hope fail not) need a coined excuse  
But to those marginal notes of yours do bring  
(In following numbers from the learned spring)  
Matter instructive to enrich their parts  
Where knowledge reigns crowned with it own deserts,  
Let such with serious and impartial hearing  
Sound sense, quick sight and judgement never erring:  
Survey and censure the Minerval frame  
Of his elaborate work: and if his name  
Merit regard, and you vouchsafe to grace him  
With eminent love, or 'mongst those laureates place him,  
That with the magic of sweet poesy,  
Transfer Parnassus into Brittany,  
He shall digest the Chaos of his brain,  
To tuneful order and acquire a strain,  
Near to the music of the heavenly spheres,  
To fit Times guard and rawish choicest ears.  
FINIS.   

Epilogus.  
FAme and Opinion like the two winged cap  
On Hermes head, do lift all Poets up:  
Some, though deserving, yet above the Sphere  
Of true impartial censure, whose tuned ear  
Listens to all and can with judgement say,  
Others sing well, though Thracian Orpheus play.  
Our Muse affects no excellence: if Fame tell  
And through her shrill trump at the Muses well  
(Where the thrice trebled bench of learning sits  
In strict examination of others wits)  
Sound ours, though humbly strains, whose infant growth  
Nor dares, nor will, with times hugged darlings quarrel,  
Nor stand the lightning with the sacred Laurel)  
We rest content: yet thus far may conceit  
Carry each labouring Artist, where the weight  
Of his old task is over, that his tongue  
May like a father of his tender young  
Speak natures language and not be withstood,  
When with our Muse he saith, that This is good.  
FINIS.   

This Epilogue should have been printed at the end of the book, but there was no spare place for it.   

muleasses the Turk,  


Actus primi. Scaena prima.  Enter aloft julia, and Amada. Iul. 
HOw sweet are things known in their contraries  
When only apprehension, and sick thoughts  
Foster a greedy longing Amada?  A. 
madam you breath: no covetous hand  
Takes the air from you: no contrariety  
bandies against your rest: as I am modest,  
My father's seeming harsh ungentleness  
Is but a misty policy, to be guile some time.  
Then be yourself and Iomiall:  Iul. 
Yet why should I repine,  
At this my foret restraint of liberty?  
Our life is but a sailing to our death,  
Through the world's Ocean: it makes no matter then  
Whether we put into the world's vast Sea,  
Shipped in a Pinnace or an Argosy:  Amad. 
No Matter: when we hope for change of vessels Lady  
And in that hope beguile your passions:  
Give your sight freedom o'er the city walls  
And see what worthy objects meet your eyes:  
See where two Dukes, each like a god of war,  
Lie both entrenched against the gates of Florence  
To gain your love: on the west side, there's  
Ferrara hangs his scarlet ensigns forth  
And woos in blood: then from the East behold  
In a white ensign filled with stars of gold,  
Burns the Venetians love: the morning Sun  
Courts not the world more amorously: he as mild  
As Myrrha's boy doth prove that loves a child,  
Not tetchy if not wronged. The other like Mars  
hems in his Venus in his arms of steel.  Enter the Duke of Ferrara at one door and the Duke of Venice at another door and meet at the midst of the stage. 
And vows a conquest: See where they appear:  
madam your love, which hand for a Dukedom?  
Were I an Orator I could praise Ferrara,  
He like the marble statue of some God,  
Carries command in his proportion,  
In him love seems a warrior for the fire,  
Of best affection burns in hot desire.  Iul. 
And yet methinks the smooth Venetian  
Should more contenta Venus:  
In him love seemeth as he is, calm and mild,  
Pleasing and sportful: things rough and violent  
Die like abortive fruit before perfection.  
theyare pursy and short breathed: th'ardour of true love  
Burns in a calm breast: in him affections  
Are not like tempests raging: yet of force  
Like an even gale of wind to bear loves ship  
Unto the port of happiness: his fire  
Burns, and consumes not, but maintain desire.  Ven. 
Give o'er my claim: that should argue,  
A too cold temperature in love: beside  
It would disable the Venetian power  
Not to make good his challenge: I dare not.  Ferr. 
Why she is mine by promise.  Ven. 
I grant, that Borgias her Uncle and Protector  
Promised you that which he cannot perform.  
But know Ferrara that my claim takes root  
And grows upon the promise of the State,  
I by the Senate was assured her love,  
And on that ground the justice of my cause  
Pleads. Thus in arms against the city walls.  Ferr. 
Herein you err: for know the Florentine  
Dying a Prince powerful and absolute  
(Not countermanded by a popular voice  
Or by th'ambitious factions of a Senate)  
Leaves the Protector in his daughter's nonage  
Free like himself, and absolute: of power  
To promise and perform: on his assurance  
Lives my loves right: then were you both  
Direct opposers of what I claim, by heaven  
And by that influence that made me great  
I would pursue my challenge through your bloods.  Ven. 
Give not such passage to your heat my Lord  Ferr: 
Then give my power a passage to my Love:  Ven: 
That I demand of you.  Ferr: 
And I command:  
That without stay you raise your powers  
And leave this cities siege unto our arms,  
Or what we aimed at them we'll turn on you.  Ven. 
Although your power we're equal with your pride  
I would dare stay Ferrara, and proclaim  
Thy title weak, thy claim litigious:  
Mine only just, apparent, righteous.  
Yet let not fury so impeach our wisdoms  
To jar for her another doth possess,  
And make our folly's laughter to our foes:  
Will then Ferrara make his passions subject  
To an indifferency that I shall propound?  Fer. 
If the indifferency you shall propound  
Divides not me from julia:  Ven. 
She's the main claim of both our armed loves.  Fer. 
And without her there's no indifferency.  Ven. 
You're frivolous:  
Why know Ferrara, thy prerogative  
Extends no further than thy sword can reach:  
Then when thy conquests hath confirmed thy will  
Thou mayst capitulate with rude commands,  
Till when proud Prince, stoop at imperious chance:  
For did no other title than my sword  
Make my claim righteous: yet the doubtful lot  
Cast on the ends of war, carries my fate  
Even with thy pride: the Lady as mine own  
To show an eminence that o'er looks thy hope,  
I challenge and aver the right of war  
Due to my sword.  Ferr. 
unsheath it then.  Ven. 
Yes at thy bosom. Sound Cornets: they stay.  Fer. 
What means this sudden parley from the walls?  Iul. 
What are the Dukes at odds?  Am. 
Hark Madam from the walls— Sound again.  
A sudden parley speaks unto the Duke's  Iul. 
Was that that stayed their swords.  Amad. 
I would fain have seen,  
how like Esop's warrior they could have fought,  
For that a third carries away.  
Some new devise of policy hath caused  
This unexepected change: not long since  
It was resolved in council to maintain  
The siege against the hottest opposition.  Iul. 
Did I not think my fortunes ebb at lowest?  
It might amaze me.  Amad. 
My liberty  
May soon give notice to you: then let's away:  
A Sun may rise to make't a happy day. Exeunt.  Enter aloft Borgias and the Senate. Ven. 
To whom speaks Borgias?  Bor. 
Dukes to you both.  
The present and unlooked for cause of grief,  
That now hath took possession on our breasts,  
Cuts of the feeling of all outward fear:  
Our private griefs were desperate: did there not  
A public care of others burden us  
We think you wronged, I and the Senate here,  
Causes of both the nonsuits of your loves,  
Appeal unto remission.  Fer. 
But whether bends your far-fetched Oratory?  
Restore the Lady unto me: and on my honour's pawn  
I'll free your City from the arms of Venice.  Ven. 
Senate, and you on whose authority,  
And pawn of honour I engaged my love,  
Slaved my affections, and did prostitute  
The freedom of my soul to julia:  
Sleight not your wisdoms and your worths in counsel  
To serve the ends of hidden policy:  
Make good your words engaged, and as I live  
A Prince unstained in honour, I will free  
Your City from Ferrara's hottest fury.  Borg. 
Alas my gracious and renowned Lords,  
I grieve to see your passions,  
Emptied of th'objects that they wrought upon:  
I am the Ambassador of heavy news,  
To you I am sure as heavy as to us.  Ven. 
Speak it.  Borg. 
O it doth press the Organs of my speech,  
And like a lethargy doth numb those motions  
should give it utterance.  Ferra. 
Hold the Protector there from falling.  
Some standersby help to unlade his burden.  
The Camel else will sink down under it.  Borg. 
Scoff not my gracious Prince: the grief I feel  
Will be as heavy on thy now light head,  
As 'tis on mine: the Lady whom you love—  Ferr. 
Why what of her?  Ven. 
Where is she? speak:  Borg. 
Singing with Angels in the choir of heaven,  
The Requiem of Saints.  Ferr. 
she's dead!  Ven. 
she's dead!  Borg. 
I Lords unto your loves.  Ven. 
O my loves hard fate.  Ferr. 
Dead!  Borg. 
And now my Lords, seeing that she is dead,  
For whom you raised these arms against our walls,  
I hope your furious angers live no longer.  Ferr. 
We are appeased: Venice I thus salute thee,  
and reconcile my fury in thy arms.  
'Sdeath dead?  Ven. 
Descend Protector, with her our arms are dead.  Ferr. 
I am amazed: possess me patience, Descend.  
Credulity Ferrara is a virtue,  
I believe it: Borgias: oh my spleen,  
That he should think me so ridiculous,  
To fasten any faith on policy,  
The stateliest general prop is jealousy,  
On all men & their actions: I know it not.  Ven. 
Should I think her murdered, or that she still doth live?  
And feed some hope by deeming him a villain,  
That soothes this sorrowful news into our ears?  
I might herein seem politic, and nurse  
Some mischief in my bosom for revenge,  
Of that wherein I but suspect a wrong.  
The tricks of state-moles that work under Princes,  
Are at the best, but like the viper's young,  
That howsoe'er prodigious and hurtful,  
To many open and secure passengers,  
Yet do they never live: without the death  
Of him that first gave motion to their breath.  
This keeps me honest still, the heavens and fate  
Are the best guardians to a wronged state.  A short flourish. Enter Borgias and the Senate. Borg. 
Laying aside all fear of what you may,  
Thus to your powers we do expose our lives,  
Your wrongs we do confess might speak revenge,  
Did not this flood of sudden grief, take up  
All passion in itself: speak mighty Dukes,  
Lives Florence in your loves? with Julia's death  
Dies the memorial of your former wrongs?  Ven. 
I forget them all.  Ferr. 
I take no pleasure in revenge.  Borg. 
Then are our City gates open to your loves,  
And beg a favour due unto the dead:  
This night the funeral hearse of julia,  
(I know that name is dear unto you both)  
Returns again to her creation.  
This night the ravenous mother of the world,  
(The all corrupting earth that eats her young)  
Swalloweth the body of your julia.  
This night she takes a farewell of us all:  
Then let it be a witness of your loves,  
To give her hearse an honour with your presence.  Ferr. 
Should we not grant this, we might be taxed  
Of much dishonour.  Ven. 
I were not worthy that it should be said  
I levied arms for love of julia,  
Should I deny my presence at her hearse.  Borg. 
My love, the near alliance to her blood,  
The dear remembrance of my Sovereign dead,  
Whose love committed her unto my care,  
Makes me accept this honour done to me:  
And I stand bound in bonds of gratitude  
To both your princely worths: in am of which,  
Let my emboldened weakness mighty Lords,  
Presume t'invite you to a funeral supper,  
A banquet forced by ceremonious custom,  
As a due obsequy.  Ven. 
The love of julia  
Exacts from me all rights of custom.  Ferr. 
I yield my presence.  Borg. 
Your guards shall be my honour for this night,  
Your several armies during your stay in Florence,  
Shall be maintained at our City's charge,  
In recompense of love to julia.  Ten. 
We thank you.  Fer. 
We thank your  Borg. 
Nor give we expectation of proud pomp,  
Of shows, or Pageants, for your entertainment:  
Our bells ring forth our sorrows in sad peals,  
No pleasant changes to give Princes welcome,  
Our Churches stand not garnished with pictures,  
To please devoted superstition with,  
But mourn in black. Our Church men  
Leave their chanting Anthems, & their daily Mass,  
To sing continual requiems to her soul.  
Sorrow sits sad and weeping in our streets,  
All eyes are wet with tears, save those where grief  
Hath dried all moisture up. Our sucking infants  
Are pale and lean with hanging on the breasts,  
Of grief-spent mothers: If these may welcome you,  
we'll give you prodigal welcome to our City.  Ven. 
Such welcome fits the death of julia.  Ferr. 
So should all mourn and weep for julia.  Borg. 
So do we mourn and weep for julia.  
Lead on unto the City: how slow paced is sorrow?  
Grief is a Tortoise to the nimble sense,  
And chills their motions, the officers of love,  
Live at our funeral, and in death do move. Exeunt.   

Scaena secunda.  Enter Amada & Eunuchus. Ama. 
Eunuchus?  Eunu. 
Madam.  Ama. 
What solemnity is that the City celebrates?  Eunu. 
The Dukes of Venice and Ferrara,  
Are with your father entered the walls  
Unto the funerals of julia.  Ama. 
Why, is julia dead?  Eunu. 
I hope your Ladyship—  Ama. 
I cry thee mercy: the remembrance of her  
Makes me still think she lives.  
And that's the cause they parleyed on the walls.  Eunu. 
True Madam.  Ama. 
Remove a while.  Eunu. 
At your service Lady. stand aside.  Ama. 
julia given out for dead,  
And live in durance at my father's will?  
'tis strange: the Duke's invited to her funeral.  
More mists of policy? O simplicity!  
The clue of reason cannot guide the fate,  
Of this daedalian maze: were't not profane  
In me to question nature for my birth,  
And quarrel with my stars for being daughter  
To him whom I suspect to be a villain:  
Some inspiration of religious thoughts,  
Make nature less in me, and bear my duty  
Even with his awe whose uncontrolled command,  
Frees our obedience from our impious parents.  
My father Borgias left in charge with me,  
That I should keep fair julia: I am her jailor,  
To whom, both he and I do owe allegiance.  
Distracted duty, how should I bestow thee?  
On the right owner, justice I adore thee.  Enter Borgias. Borg. 
Amada.  Ama. 
My love and duty.  Borg. 
Alone?  Ama. 
My mother's Eunuch:  Borg. 
How fares julia?  Ama. 
Lives as you commanded, unseen & private.  Burg. 
Thy mother's dead.  Ama. 
Defend it heavens!  Borg. 
Dead: no more: Eunuchus?  Ennu. 
My love and service.  Borg. 
You gave it out last night as I commanded  
Timoclea my wife was sick.  Eunu. 
I did an't like your grace.  Borg. 
When sets the Sun?  Eunu. 
Some six hours hence.  Borg. 
tonight willbe to soon: tomorrow morning  
Rumour't about the City, my wife is dead,  
Say abroad she is dead.  Eunuch 
It shall be done.  Borg. 
So shall thy duty keep me bound to thee.  
Amada: some thing more I have to say,  
Prepare for marriage.  Ama. 
For marriage?  Borg. 
Question me not, thou must be married,  
muleasses is thy husband, my word hath sealed it.  
Be still my Argus, and keep julia.  
Death to my soul! Eunuchus  
Canst thou unknown (to any save thyself)  
Poison a groom to stuff a coffin with?  Eunu. 
I can to please your Lordship:  Borg. 
O thou shalt please us highly! I have great use  
Of such a thing, I prithee do it:  
My wife last night was poisoned, her body  
The world believes is Iulias, supposed dead.  
Now for the second funeral of my wife.  
Her coffin must be filled up with some slave,  
He shall be honoured princely to his grave.  
The funeral stays my presence: Amada  
See to my julia, if muleasses move,  
Be kind and gentle to his proffered love. Exit Borgias.  Ama. 
here's a distracted labyrinth of wit,  
julia alive, and yet her funeral kept:  
My mother dead and never Sick: 'tis true:  
To many, death is sudden and unlooked for:  
So't was to her: and in the midst of death,  
I must be married: death take me to,  
Let me not live to see those tapers burn,  
That lead me to his bed: where's sanctity?  
Religion is the fools bridle, worn by policy:  
As horse wear trappers to seem fair in show,  
And make the worlds eye dote on what we seem.  
Be silent yet for duty stops thy mouth,  
I'll in to julia, 'tis she and I,  
That must be Chorus in this Tragedy. Exit Amada.  Eunu. 
howsoe'er my fortunes make me now a slave  
I was a free borne Christians son in Cyprus,  
When Famagusta by the Turk was sacked:  
In the division of which City spoils,  
My fortunes fell to muleasses lot:  
Nor was it Tyranny enough that I was Captive,  
My parents robbed of me, and I of them,  
But they wronged nature in me, made me an Eunuch,  
Disabled of those masculine functions,  
Due from our sex: and thus subjecteth,  
These sixteen years unto the wild command,  
Of an imperious Turk, I now am given  
To serve the hidden secrets of his lust,  
Unto Timoclea, the wife of Borgias,  
Whose private mixtures I am guilty of:  
Betwixt these three I stand as in a maze,  
In egged to all their sins, and made a bawd  
To lust and murder: muleasses first  
Gives me unto Timoclea, that without suspect  
I might procure their loves security:  
For which they promise me my liberty.  
Eut Borgias whether jealous of his wife,  
Of reaching at some further policy,  
Binds me with golden offers to his trust,  
And first commands me rumour it abroad  
Timoclea his wife was sick, when at that instant  
She was in health and dancing with her Turk.  
Now I must second that report with death,  
And say abroad Timoclea is dead:  
Short warning for a journey unto heaven:  
But (which amazeth most) I must provide  
The body of some groom to stop a coffin with.  
This is a riddle of some Sphinx, let Oedipus  
Unfold the meaning: I leave it to th'event,  
And think most safety in not knowing it.  
I must provide some groom, that's my command.  
Prosper me Saturn, and those stars of sin,  
Whose influence makes villains fortunate.  
„ He kills by law that kills men for a state.  Enter Bordella & Pantofle his Page. 
But who comes here? oh my spruce he— lecher  
That makes his boy save him the charges of a bawdy house,  
Fore Mahomet an excellent fellow for my Lord's coffin:  
Assist me power of wit.  Bord. 
Pantofle.  Pan. 
At your pleasure sir?  Bord. 
Thou hast been at my pleasure indeed Pantofle, I will retreat into the country, hate this amorous, Court and betake myself to obscurity: I tell thee boy I will return by this Circean Isle without transformation since Hebe hath discovered her secrets I will turn Jupiter, hate the whole sex of women, and only embrace thee my Ganymede.  Pan. 
'sfoot sir you are as passionate for the disloyalty of your Sempstress as some needy knight would be for the loss of some rich magnificos widow: do you not see how the supporters of the Court, the Lady of the labby gape after your good parts like so many grigs after fresh water, and can you withhold the dew of your moister element?  Bord. 
I tell thee should the Lady julia when she was alive have proffered me her cheek to kiss, I would not have bowed to that painted image for her whole Dukedom: Mercury had no good aspect in the horoscope of my nativity: women and lotium are reciprocal, their savour is noisome.  Eun. 
Why her's a slave in folio will seem to slight the love of a Princess, when he would willingly spend his talon on an oyster wife.  Bord. 
Sirrah Pantofle truss up my wardrobe: but withal publish my departure, I would willingly put my creditors to the charged of guarding me out of town.  Pan. 
It will much scandalize your reputation for to depart indebted: you will be cursed heavily.  Bord. 
To depart in debted boy, is the only way to be prayed for, seeing they know it is my prosperity and welfare that must make them satisfaction.  Eunu. 
Before heaven an excellent reason.  Pant. 
Pray Sir make even with your tailor, he is poor.  Bord. 
Most willingly, for I am not possessed of a pennikin, and if he be not before with me, I take it we are even, and may walk in campage. Pantofle vanish.  Pant. 
I go Sir.  Eunc. 
I have it, thanks sweet Thalia, thou hast begot a child of mirth in my brain, I will put it to this creature of Florence to nurse: Saucy signior.  Bord. 
Eunuchus, Venus restore thee to thy generation: what doings are now in your quarters?  Eun 
Doings: in faith courtly and weak: Cupid help the poor Ladies.  Bord. 
you are above me, I mean not their ingenys or upper galleries:  Eun. 
Nor I neither: and yet I speak of their understandings, which by reason of a general spring, halt and debility in their hams (heavens know) are most falteringly feeble: but to present the message I am sent for: to your worthiest self, from my Lady and mistress the protector's wife: you are intelligent?  Bord. 
The beauteous Timoclea.  Eun. 
heavens grant she may have the virtue of attraction: for she hath laid open, the luster of her best parts to your grace Sir: nay make not retreat Sir: she knows you disdain her love.  Bord. 
The truth is I am earthly, and like not to participate with the element of the fire: good Eunuchus commend me to your Lady, and tell her by importuning my affection, she seeks the fall of an innocent.  Eun. 
True Sir, but with a firm belief of your rising again.  Bord. 
I see no hope of it.  Eun. 
The harder is her fortune: but hear me, methinks reward should prick you on with more courage, to such an honourable encounter.  Bord. 
Faith Eunuch I have made a vow not to uncase myself to any of that sex.  Eun. 
It may be you grounded your oath upon the uncleanness of your shirt.  Bord. 
Verily since the relapse of my Sempstress, I have not addicted myself to that neat & cleanly carriage  Eun. 
'sfoot I thought some soul cause or other, interposed itself twixt you and my Lady: But sir, I'll see all wants supplied, thy debts satisfied, thy fortunes eternally mounted: only be tractable to my poor lovesick Lady and mistress, just and loving.  Bord. 
As I am, so fates assist me: and Eunuchus here's my hand thou shalt have ample share in my fortunes.  Eun. 
By this hand sir but I will not: do not fail sir at eight of the clock to meet me here, where I'll deliver you the key of my ladies chamber: with further instructions in the business, and with assuredness of preferment and promotion.  Bord. 
Dear Eunuch let me hug thee: how I long to manifest thy service to my Lady Timoclea. You will meet?  Eun. 
My hand and promise for it.  Bord. 
It shall suffice.  
By women man first fell, by them I'll rise. Exit.  Eun. 
Ha ha ha: Protector, here's a slave  
Shall stuff thy coffin: him thou shalt sacrifice  
Unto timoclea's ghost, whose humorous soul  
Shall in his passage over Acheron  
Make Charon laugh, and the stern judge of hell  
Smile at his folly: this is the fatal key  
Conducts him to those shades by Borgias hand.  
Thus fools must fall, that wise men firm my stand.   

Scaena. 3.  Enter a Friar, after him a funeral in White, and bearers in white, after them Borgias, then the two Dukes, after them the Senate. etc. A solemn march. Bor. 
SEt down that heavy load of misery,  
SO would the easing you, might ease my heart!  
Pure virgin Hark: O let it not impeach  
The gravity of age to let some tears  
Fall at thy funeral: true relic of that love  
I did inherit from thy father's mouth,  
When to my charge he left his heir and Dukedom  
In thee I am deprived of all that honour  
I should have purchased by that thankful care  
Was due unto thy father's memory:  
Did not my grief load all my powers of speech,  
Oh I could spend my age in commenting  
Of those true virtues died with him and thee,  
But sorrow shuts my breast: Prior, thine office.  Fry. 
By that great power is given to me  
The gates of heaven I open to thee,  
When 'mongst the Angels thou shalt sing  
The song of Saints before a King,  
That sits for ever on his throne,  
And giveth light to every one:  
To him thy soul we do bequeath,  
Thy body to the earth beneath:  
And so we close thy tomb again,  
And pray thy soul be free from pain.  Ven. 
Look from thy holy mansion sacred maid  
And see how prostrate I adore thy bliss:  
These arms in hope of conquest of thy love  
That rolled themselves in steel, shall clasp the air,  
And in their empty foldings live still barren  
Of all the comfort my youths hope did promise.  
And since thy death takes my loves joy from me,  
I'll die a virgin-Saint and live with thee.  Fer. 
I cannot vent my breast in love sick terms,  
Nor call to record all the gods of love  
For my integrity: nor prostitute,  
An oily passion curiously composed  
Of rhyming numbers at my mistress hearse:  
Or tell her dead trunk my true love in verse:  
But since by death her love I am denied,  
To say I loud her is Ferrara's pride.  Borg. 
My honour, and that weak ability  
Our state affords, to do your grace's service,  
Lies at your princely feet, for this your love  
Done to the dead: now is julia shut  
For ever from your eyes: save that she lives  
Like a pure relic of some holy Saint,  
Shrined in our breasts for ever: let me now renew  
My first request, to sup with us tonight,  
A ceremony due at funerals.  
So shall you double honour unto me,  
In doing double honour unto her.  Ven. 
I'll do all honour both to her and you.  Ferr. 
I'll break no custom.  Borg. 
I humbly thank your graces, please you lead?  
Here lives a lasting memory of the dead. Exeunt.  A solemn marth. Manet Borgias 
Thus far my pioning policies run even,  
And level with my aims: julia lives,  
And in her hearse Timoclea my wife,  
Deludes the credulous Dukes: poisoned last night  
By muleasses, to make way for me,  
To marry julia my brother's daughter,  
For which the Cardinal of Anjou my kinsman  
Solicits daily with his holiness,  
For dispensation with our blood's alliance:  
As for these weak men, whose pursuits in love,  
Dies with my strong averring of her death,  
I can command their lives: and then maintain  
My actions with the sword: for which the Turk  
By muleasses made unto my purpose,  
Offers me forty thousand janissaries  
To be my guard, 'gainst foreign outrages:  
And more: he'll make me king of Italy,  
To give him but command upon the straits,  
And land his force on this side Christendom  
And I will do it: on my faith to God  
And loyalty I owe unto the stars,  
Should there depend all Europe and the states  
Christened thereon: I'd sink them all,  
To gain those ends I have proposed my aims  
Religion (thou that ridst the backs of Slaves  
Into weak minds insinuating fear  
And superstitious cowardness) thou robbest  
Man of his chief bliss by bewitching reason.  
Nature at these my brows bend: thy mysteries  
Wrought by thine own hands in our active brains,  
Give us the use of good: thou art my God,  
If what I have of thee, or wit or art,  
Or Serpent sliding through the minds of men,  
Cunning confusion of all obstacles,  
Be they my children's lives, my dearest friends  
May gain me what I wish, I stoop at thy renown  
And think als vacuum above a crown,  
For they that have the sovereignty of things,  
Do know no God at all, are none but Kings. Exit.   
Finis Actus Primi.   


Actus 2. Scaena 1.  muleasses solus. Mull. 
Eternal substitute to the first that moved  
And gave the Chaos form. Thou at whose nod  
Whole Nations stooped, and hold thee still a God:  
Whose holy-customd-ceremonious rites,  
Live unprofaned in our posterity:  
Thou God of Mecha, mighty Mahomet,  
Thus muleasses at thy memory  
Descends: accept his prone humility,  
Great Prophet: let thy influence be free  
Unchecked by danger: mew not up my soul,  
In the pent room of conscience:  
Make me not moral Mahomet, cooped up  
And fettered in the fools philosophy,  
That points our actions unto honesty.  
Give my plots fortune: let my hope but touch  
The mark I aim at: then the gazing time  
Shall in the present hide my former ill  
Success like lethe to the souls in bliss  
Makes men forget things past and crowns our sins  
With name of valour, be we impious.  
A Scelus felix styles us virtuous.  Enter Eunuchus. Eunu. 
My honoured Lord:  Mull. 
What devil interrupts m?  Eunu. 
My duty.  Mull. 
Your duty is too diligent that dares  
Peer into my retreats: now should I kill thee.  Eunu. 
The Lord Protector Borgias my master—  Mull. 
Age and diseases breed consumptions  
And rot him. What craves he?  Eunu. 
Your instant presence.  Mull. 
I have instant business whose high import  
Detains my speed: know you the matter?  Eunu. 
A tumult 'mongst the fearful multitude,  
Caused by an ominous terror in the heavens,  
Is as I guess the reason of your want.  Mull. 
What heavens? what terror?  Eunu. 
The Sun on sudden feels a dark eclipse  
And hides his silver face behind the moon,  
As loath to see some prodigies appear.  Mull. 
Make that eclipse eternal Mahomet.  
Rise, rise ye misty-footed jades of night,  
Draw your dark mistress with her sable veil,  
Like a black Negro in an ebon chair,  
Athwart the world's eye: from your foggy breaths  
Hurl an Egyptian grossness through the air,  
That none may see my plots: Hast any greater news?  Eunu. 
The days eyes out, a thousand little stars  
Spread like so many torches, about the sky,  
Make the world show like Churches hung with black,  
And set with tapers at some funeral:  
Amongst these stars directly from the East,  
A fiery meteor points a burning rod  
At Florence.  Mulle. 
Perhaps 'tis thirsty for the blood of Princes,  
Blaze out prodigious star, and let the fire  
Dart soul amazing terror to all eyes:  
Be like the Basilisk fatal to behold:  
I'll fat the slimy earth more than the plague,  
And from her bosom send the blood of Kings  
stilled into oily vapours & borne on high,  
To expiate those flames that else would die.  Eunu. 
What answer shall I return unto my Lord?  Mulle. 
That I will see him presently, be gone: Borgias,  
Thou art no tutored Politician Exit Eunuc:  
To lay another in thy bosom.  
Know a state-villain must be like the wind,  
That flies unseen yet lifts an Ocean,  
Into a mountains height. That on the sands  
Whole Navies may be split in their descent.  
I stand above thee, and as from a rock  
Whose eminence outswells the raging flood,  
See thy hopes shipwrecked: O credulity,  
Securities blind nurse the dream of fools:  
The Drunkard's Ape, that feeling for his way  
Even when he thinks in his deluded sense,  
To snatch at safety, falls without defence.  
Twice hath the Nemean Lion breathed, forth fire,  
And made the scalded dog-star pant with heat.  
Twice the days planet through the burning signs  
Hurled his fiery chariot since the time  
I came to Florence in exchange for julia.  
The son of Borgias here to learn the tongues,  
The fashions and the arts of Christendom:  
Now by my sly and affable intrusion  
I am made intimate with Borgias:  
He thinks my thoughts are Osiers to be wrought  
In any form: the Dukes (that claimed  
The love of julia) he hath deluded  
By a feigned rumour of a sudden death:  
Her he detains until he fits his time  
By murder of the Dukes to be secure,  
In his own power to dacke his marriage:  
Timoclea his wife (the death of all his plots  
If she survives) he now believes is dead  
Poisoned by me: in lieu of which he grants  
His daughter Amada to me for wife:  
As if my hopes flew not as high as his:  
Now to secure my flight and make my wings  
Stronger than his that melted in the Sun,  
His wife Timoclea lives within this tomb  
Made seeming lifeless by a sleepy juice  
Infused in stead of poison in her cup:  
Here I must wake her and in her stir up  
Revenge 'gainst Borgias.  
Image of death and daughter of the night,  
Sister to Lethe all oppressing sleep,  
Thou that amongst a hundred thousand dreams  
Crowned with a wreath of mandrakes sit'st as Queen,  
To whom a million of care-clogged souls,  
Lie quaffing juice of Poppy at thy feet,  
Resign thy usurpation, and dislodge,  
Hang on the eyes of sloth and make them sleep  
Whose hearts are heavy, or whose sorrows weep,  
Give way to motion: and thou whose blood  
Stands in thy full veins like a charmed flood  
Receive the air again: survive his hate  
That on thy grave again climbs high to reach his fate.  Timoclea riseth in the tomb. Timo. 
Who speaks so loud?  Mul. 
He that speaks life Timoclea.  Timo. 
You wake me.  Mul. 
Such power I challenge Lady in my voice,  
To wake you from your grave.  Timo. 
Where am I?  Mul. 
In your grave.  Timo. 
Hah, my grave!  Mul. 
Be not amazed madame: you are safe.  Timo. 
Who speaks unto me? oh forbear:  
I am not for your presence: see my bed  
Lies much unseemly: who attends me there?  
What means this impudent intrusion?  Mul. 
Take time to your amazement: know where you are  
'tis muleasses speaks to you: him you once loved:  
'tis not now time to fear.  Timo. 
I know your face and yet I fear my being  
Gives cause of fear.  Mul. 
Give yourself, to me and on those rites  
Due to the sweets of love, here is no danger.  Timo. 
Accept me in your arms.  Mul. 
See where you are, know you this place?  Timo. 
Some Church I think.  Mul. 
And these the trophies of your Ancestors.  
This is the burial common to your blood.  Timo. 
Oh free me from amazement, what strange accident  
Brought me so near my death? I am now myself  
And truly capable of a discourse.  Mul. 
Then know madame your life hath been pursued,  
And myself bribed to be your poisoner,  
But that my love turned death unto a sleep,  
And brought you thus alive unto your grave:  Timo 
Say on my dearest Lord, who bribed thy love?  
What barbarism, or what desert of mine  
Moved this attempt against my life?  Mul. 
My soul durst justify your innocence,  
But that disease that bred in Paradise,  
Swells like the prester's poison in our veins  
(To which all men are heirs ambition)  
Desire to be like God: 'twas that corruption  
Gave me occasion thus to show my love  
On your lives safety:  Timo. 
My love and life are thine: speak openly,  
What breast could be so cruelly ambitious?  
Whose honour or whose fortunes could my life  
Eclipse or darken?  Mul: 
First madame you must swear,  
By life, by love, and by that happiness  
Your soul assures you in the faith you hold  
With me, this night to prosecute revenge  
On your lives enemy.  Timo. 
By life, by love and by that happiness,  
My soul assures me in the faith I hold,  
By that which binds me more— by this kiss him.  
I swear this night to prosecute revenge  
On my lives enemy.  Mul 
Enough: thy resolution like a fire,  
Makes my warm blood boil: Borgias.  Timo. 
My husband.  Mul. 
Your husband: start not Lady,  
'twas he that by a promise of your daughter  
The fairest Amada to me for wife  
Made my tongue say, that I would poison you:  
Silence dear Lady: choke all passion,  
And feminine complaints in thoughts of vengeance.  
Forget you are a woman: and be like your wrongs  
Full swollen with death: let your inventive brains  
Carry more fate in their conception,  
Than Hecubas womb to Troy: my plots are yours,  
Are you revengeful?  Timo. 
As full as jealousy: or the wife of jason  
robbed by the fair Corinthian of her love.  Mul. 
Then thus we seal our resolution— kiss  
Thus I ascend, and from proud Fortune's wheel,  
Pull my own fate: forgiveness Mahomet  
My hopes make me profane; and my proud thoughts  
Usurp above thy greatness: Apprehension?  
Thou that givest food unto the soul of man,  
The best companion to relieve the mind.  
What sweet suggestions of my future bliss  
Have I from thee? O I am transported  
Beyond the power of reason! the present time  
Craves a more sober temper. Madam this disguise  
Must carry you unknown unto my chamber  
Where we have much to do: release your thoughts,  
Give freedom to those faculties of nature,  
That made your sex first dare to reach at pleasure.  
Be proud and lustful, let ambition sway  
The power of action in you: murder and blood  
Are the two pillars of a Statesman's good. Exeunt.   

Seena 2.  Borgias solus. Borg. 
A A Politician Proteus-like must alter  
His face and habit, and like water seem  
Of the same colour that the vessel is  
That doth contain it, varying his form  
With the Chameleon at each objects change.  
Twice like a Serpent have I cast my skin,  
Once when with mourning sighs I wept for julia,  
And made the two Dukes weep for julia,  
That coat is cast: now like an Amourist,  
I come in loving terms to court my julia,  
And seem a lover but of all shapes  
This sits me worst: whose constellation  
Stamped in my rugged brow the signs of death,  
Envy and ruin: strong antipathies  
'gainst love and pleasure: yet must my tongue  
with passionate oaths and protestations,  
With sighs, smooth glances, and officious terms,  
Spread artificial mists before the eyes  
Of credulous simplicity: he that will be high,  
Must be a Parasite, to fawn and lie.  Enter Amada. Amada. Ama. 
Your pleasure.  Borg. 
How stand your thoughts affected to the marriage  
I lately did acquaint you with, are you resolved?  Ama. 
I am Rather to die than live to see that hour aside.  Borg. 
I would see julia, pray her company?  Ama. 
I will. Exit Amada.  Enter muleasses. Borg. 
Your presence is most welcome:  Mull. 
What business of import?  Borg. 
Nought for the instant but a wooing scene,  
Prepare your wit my Lord to fight with words.  
The Champions straight approach, but two to two.  Enter julia and Amada. Borgias courts julia, and muleasses Amada, glancing his eye on julia. Mull. 
My loved dear Lady.  Borg, 
Beauteous Madam.  Mull. 
Fair as the morning.  Borg. 
Be as thy beauty seems, propitious, loving:  Mull. 
Attractive Sunshine: all affections moving.  Borg. 
More than a subject, and more humbly bent.  Iul. 
How supple seems ambition? Uncle you're too low:  Mull. 
Divinest fair to whom all hearts should bow.  Ama. 
Fit attributes for heaven: my Lord, my feature  
Is but earthmould, the weak frame of nature.  Mull. 
Yet graced with heavenly virtue, it seems divine  Borg. 
I know your lights above me, yet let it shine  
Like the days beauty on the lowly plains.  Iuli. 
Subjects are no fit loves for Sovereigns.  Borg. 
High comets from the earth draw up then nurture.  Iul. 
Yet from the Sun true stars have all their lustre.  Mull. 
True star on earth:  Ama. 
You flatter, pray forbear.  Borg. 
Love Madam is importunate, you must hear:  
Your niceness makes me be abrupt: I love  
And must enjoy you.  Mull. 
Hell to my love: Borgias I'll prevent you.  Iul. 
I must be plain: love you me my Lord?  Borg. 
I by that power that made me.  Iuli. 
Restore then that, that you have robbed me of,  
My honour and my life: for I am dead,  
So thought of in the world: give me what I am:  
Return the title due unto my birth  
duchess of Florence, and thy Sovereign.  
Make me as free as I was borne, and give my love  
The liberty of nature: then shall I believe  
And think you love me.  Borg. 
I will restore your honours and your life,  
I will return the duties of your birth:  
Duchess of Florence and my Sovereign,  
The Sovereign of my heart: and kneel to you,  
And make my thoughts as humble as my knees:  
See: I am not ambitious, 'tis not a crown  
The gorgeous title of a Sovereign,  
Makes me so evil in your thoughts: the poise of love  
Whom some term light, and gives him wings  
To soar all oft in me is but the same  
And makes me stoop thus low to julia.  Iuli. 
Uncle I am ashamed that any blood of mine  
Should harbour such an incest: you have an easier way  
To gain what you desire: make good the fame  
The world is now possessed of: murder me,  
Then are you heir to Florence: 'tis not half so ill,  
As this incestuous mixture you so plead for,  
'gainst nature and the law of heaven: but on,  
Use your usurped power; be still a villain:  
My life is the utmost, and you may command it,  
But my blood's vessel given unto my soul,  
As a pure mansion to inhabit in  
Shall while I am and breath, be unprofaned.  
I'll be more chaste than Lucrece, die unstained.  Mull. 
You are a woman Lady, and will change:  
The Protector's at a nonsuit in his love,  
How now my Lord?  Borg. 
Thus crossed by superstitious obstinacy,  
I'll use the power I have, and make— How thrives your suit?  Mull. 
Unthriftily like yours: we are no Venus darlings,  
No delight for women: she cannot love.  Borg. 
She cannot love? your reason Lady  
Is your blood holy? are you a sanctuary  
That none may violate. What ease of conscience  
Keeps you unprofaned? know that religion  
Binds your obedience minion to my will.  
Love him or I'll hate thee.  Ama. 
I tender up the duty of a child  
And yield a father's high prerogative  
o'er what I am: yet for that affection  
That you would have me captive in his breast,  
Know it is prisoner at so dear a rate,  
As all my strength can no way ransom it.  Borg. 
I'll use no rhetoric Lady to your ears:  
But hear what I command and do my will,  
Or thou shalt hear what will displease thy will.  Mull. 
Be these the precepts Christians give their children?  Borg. 
But Madam for your love.  Mull. 
I would forsake a God.  Borg. 
A more soft style beseems a subjects tongue,  
I'll be no higher than myself: and not command  
What's in my power. Will you resign your love?  Iul. 
I to that God that thou hast so profaned,  
Detested Atheist.  Borg. 
Be religious Madam still and rail not,  
Think of my honest suit: and think what power  
This hand doth gripe: we are troublesome  
And leave you to your thoughts: these fits must end,  
Trees are as easy broke that will not bend.  Exeunt at several doors.  

Scena. 3.  Eunuchus solus. Eunu. 
THis is the hour I should meet my catamite signor Bordella: I cannot but laugh to see the slave make a lecherous progress to Lucifer. The moral will hold rarely: he shall have his brains fly about his ears in the height of his venery: this instead of going to Tymoclea shall conduct him to the bed of Borgias: a midst whose waking plots & state volutions, the amorous youth must needs be heartily welcome: for mine own part, my hand shall be clear from the blood of the goat: & yet I could account it happiness to be within ear shot of his departure, to here how lamentably the coxcomb would sigh out Tymoclea: but the best is, neither Court nor country will much miss the fool: there are elder brothers enough to supply his room: Enter Bordella. And see where the Cocoloch appears: he passeth as if he would steal to hell without company: whist signior.  Bord. 
Eunuchus?  Eunu. 
The same: now I see thou wilt stand to thy word.  Bord. 
Thy Lady shall see that in my deeds Eunuchus if all the sweet meats in Florence be provocative.  Eun. 
I Sir, but Ladies are of the nature of Idols and will be served on your knees.  Bord. 
True, were I not a man of war whose valour & magnanimous courage is not to be dejected so long as his weapon holds.  Eunu. 
Then I perceive you will shortly be at my Lady's mercy  Bord. 
If I should, doubt not her gracious hand in my erection: but gentle Eunucus, the key that opens to the Via lactea:  Eunu. 
Here Sir, and look your entrance be wary, soft and circumspect.  Bord. 
I had thought an entrance rough, manly and boisterous had been more pleasing to Ladies: Enter Madam Fulsome ,But see Eunuchus I shall be troubled I shall be tormented with this court owl if you assist me not: 'sfoot the flesh-fly hath espied me, she will never lin sucking at me so long as I have any matter for her to work upon.  Eun. 
Who, Madam Fulsome the Governess of the maids? she is a good creature and very musical: she sets more instruments a-work then a Fiddler: thou must needs love her if it were but for her humility: she will bend herself to the meanest page of the Scullery: and she hates the pride of the flesh exceedingly, and is known to be a mortifier of carnality.  Bord. 
I verily believe it, for her very countenance and complexion shows she is able to allay any man's courage living with a breath.  Enter two Ladies and Phego a Gentleman usher Fulsom. 
Phego do you espy no motions behind the arras, no sqalls, muzzlings, or pages standing sentinel? or because our head the Lady julia is dead, are all her servants that is her members in the same predicament?  Phego. 
Surely I see nobody stirring Lady: it is supper time and every man is providing for the belly.  Ful 
It will be shortly time for every woman to provide for the belly too, Phego a word with you.  Bord, 
What is that Phego Eunuchus do you know him?  Eunu. 
How, know him, can I mistake him sir, that is never hoodwinked? he is an extreme enemy to Haberdashers: affecting no block, but that which nature bestowed on him: and of that he hath been so curious that it is not a hair amiss: he is sir the preface to your compoundress of man's flesh, and Ushers her to employment: and is a creature of singular patience; contenting himself with the Theory, when others are the Practic. In his pace he imitates Fencers, and stands much upon distance: He is partly an Astronomer too, being much given to observation of signs: for when the Sun is in Gemini the dog-star attends without doors: he is a great friend to Aries but naturally hates Pisces for it is a chill sign and cools his toes over-vehemently: in brief sir he is a Gentleman Usher.  Phego salutes Bordello. Ful. 
Sure Phego that should be signor Bordello: I pray you entreat his approach: of all our Courtiers I love men of his country and breeding, they are the lovingest, best spoken, well great creatures in these parts extant: I think it be given to those that be borne under your northern clime, to thaw and melt away at the Sunshine of beauty: you shall read in very late stories that many of them have lost their best members in the service of Ladies and distressed waiting Gentlewomen.  Bord. 
I should account it none of my nearest mishaps, being interdicted so worthy a presence by more than urgent affairs. Sweet Sir bear my excuse with all respective desire of pardon.  Ful. 
Whether signor Bordello in such post-haste: you forget your old friends: when you came first to Court, you and I were more inward man.  Bord. 
Being upon my departure Lady, I am enforced to see to the conveying of my goods, and the trussing away of my baggage.  Ful. 
And that word baggage (I will be sworn) had been an apt phrase for his bringing in, but you purpose not I hope signor to depart Florence altogether.  Eun. 
Oh no: his flight Lady is like the Ravens, that having spied a fat carcase, roams about to call more of her fellows to the prey.  Ful. 
But signor, have you so fully furnished your discourse with observation, as with so slight a view of our Gentlewomen to make a departure? indeed signior the Ladies of your country will exact some observative relate of your travels upon your return.  Bord. 
For our ladies Madam they are few or none, our country men are not so addicted to titles of honour: they use knighthood as rich jewellers desire Gems rather for traffic than ornament.  Phego. 
Is there any commodity to be had in the purchase sir?  Bord. 
Great Commodity, and that is the reason so many merchants and yeomen sons hunt after it.  Ful. 
Belike this is one of your observations: pray sir be more open: I see you have profited much since your coming.  Bord. 
For the bettering of mine inward parts, some few notions I have committed to memory.  Eunu. 
Impart them signor: it may be I shall add to your store: these Ladies will not discover us for intelligencers: they are naturally given to the concealment of private actions.  Bord. 
Since my coming to Florence I have seen ignorance in the shape of a Citizen muffled in the scarlet of magistracy that could not write his own name. Generally I have noted through the whole Country great enmity between wit and cloaks lined through with velvet: and yet beggars & gallants agree together very familiarly. There is no thriving but by impudence and pandarism: he that is furnished with one of these two qualities shall beg more of a foolish Lord at a marrowbone breakfast, than all the Poets in the whole town shall rhyme out of him in an age:  Eun. 
But these are but petty observations: I have seen since my coming to Florence the son of a peddler mounted on a foot cloth: a fellow created a Lord for the smoothness of his chin: and which is more; I have seen a cap most miraculously turned into a beaver hat without either trimming or dressing.  Ful. 
That is strange indeed: signor and Eunuchus, we are to press you to a further courtesy in meeting us in the lobby some two hours hence at a posset.  Bord. 
You shall find us as forward in as hot a service in the Lobby or elsewhere at your Ladyships appoint, but—  Ful. 
We must have no denial.  Eunu. 
Canst not say the Court-grace? promise man promise.  Bord. 
Your Ladyship shall find us ready to put in— our spoons.  Ful. 
Till then adieu signor and Eunuchus. Phego forward.  Phe. 
So long as my hamstrings hold. Exeunt.  Bord. 
You see Eunuchus, familiarity and courtesy hath enwrapped me in the knowledge of these meanest vassals of honour: but henceforth my countenance shallbe estranged, and I will bury my acquaintance in silence.  Eunu. 
I think the cuckoo foresings his own dirge: signor, you shall need no further prescriptions: in the career of your delight, vouchsafe a thought of Eunchus, you conceive me Sir, manifest my service to Timoclea.  Bord. 
I were inhuman if I should forget you the latest minute of my life: pray heavens my Page Pantofle have procured in my absence the embroidered shirt I gave directions for upon both our wardrobes: that care once over, I shall never henceforth taste of lousy misfortune.  
Venus supplying what Bordello most lacks,  
Courtiers and Porters live by able backs. Exeunt   

Scena. 4.  Enter 4. Tapers borne by 2. Pages, Borgias, Venice, Florence, muleasses, Prusias, Philenzo. Borg. 
THus our presumption hath prolonged your stay  
At a cheap banquet: did not the rites of love  
Exact your presence as a debt to julia,  
Our boldness might have wanted an excuse  
Thus to detain you.  Ferr. 
You are too full of ceremony my Lord,  
Knowing your welcome prodigal, and full of state,  
And such as fits our mournful accidents.  Ven. 
The better part of love due to the living,  
Appears in friends even when their friends are dead,  
And think my Lord Protector that our love,  
For which we came in arms against your walls,  
Would not be wanting in one ceremony  
Due unto julia at her obsequy.  
Is Prusias returned from our Camp?  Pru. 
I my gracious Lord.  Ven. 
Doth our Lieutenant keep a careful watch  
Are Sentinels set out?  Prus. 
They are and it like your grace.  Ferr. 
Where is Philenzo?  Phil. 
Here my Sovereign.  Ferr. 
Are all in safety at our Camp?  Phil. 
Safe and in quiet.  Ferr. 
The night is old,  
And drowsy sleep hangs heavy on our eyes:  
Conduct us to our rest.  Borg. 
Never till now was Borgias fully blessed:  
To lodge two mighty Princes in one night  
Under his roof: where my sons son may say,  
Here mighty Venice and Ferrara lay.  
My Lord these Tapers lead you to your chamber,  
These great Ferrara unto yours.  Ven. 
Rest to you all. Exit.  Ferr. 
Good night and sleep unto your sorrows. Exit.  Borg. 
Sweet quiet be a guard unto you both,  
So may you sleep for ever. Eunuchus:  
Remove with our attendance from our ears.  Exeunt all but muleasses. 
Now my heart's treasurer what now remains?  
My resolution holds to murder them,  
And with that force the town may now afford,  
Practise some sudden stratagem on their powers.  Mull. 
That were too violent: things done for state,  
Must carry for me, and with an outward gloss,  
Varnish and cover what would else seem gross,  
Should they be murdered in their beds, or die,  
Having your promise for their guard: th'offence  
Could have no safety but in violence.  
No let them sleep secure, and this night's safety  
Will make them fearless, easy to be trapped  
In a more cunning net.  
To morrow at a banquet they shall drink  
A drug, whose working in their breast shall sleep  
Twice fifteen days, until their absence hence  
May give you colour from suspicion.  
But then dissolving like a fire that's hid,  
Spreading a burning poison through the blood,  
It scalds the heart, and through the body runs:  
Turns to a hot quotidian and, doth lose  
Although of poison in a mad disease:  
So dying, no impute can touch your name:  
Things are undone that are unspoke by fame.  Borg. 
My fortunes on thy council noble Turk.  
We'll climb together: my daughter's heady will  
Shall stoop unto thy pleasure: as for Julia's love  
She must or yield or die: he that is wise,  
Will tread on any that may make him rise. Exeunt.   
Finis Actus Secundi.   

Actus 3  
Enter Timoclea like a Ghost. Timo. 
BLush not thou chaste and modest Queen of night,  
Nor hide thy silver crescent in a cloud,  
To see me thus Rhamnusia like attired:  
Stare on ye Argus eyed heavens and see a woman  
More full of vengeance, than your jealous Queen.  
Medusa sometime the love of Neptune,  
(But after for thy lust transformed a monster)  
Lend me those serpents that about thy head  
Curl up like Elf-knots, at whose horrid sight  
The Sun may vanish or stand still affright.  
Or you you Furies ministers of fear,  
(That at astrea's feet lie bound in snakes  
Attending her just sentence to begin  
Terror of conscience in the breast of sin)  
This night be powerful in me and inspire  
My face with fear, my heart with rank-swollen ire  
Venice, Venice, great Venice:  Ven. 
Who speaks to Venice? within.  Timo. 
julia thy love.  Ven. 
Delusive voice, why dost renew my grief  
By naming julia?  Timo. 
Didst thou love julia?  Ven. 
Thou wrong'st me to make question of my love.  
whatsoe'er thou art.  Enter Venice. Timo. 
Then see thy julia and revenge her wrongs.  Ven. 
Dissolve ye glassy pearls and melt in drops,  
Or with the tear-spent mother Niobe  
Turn into stones: shall I believe my thoughts,  
And credit what thy shape presents to me?  
Thou art the Ghost of murdered julia.  Timo. 
I am.  Ven. 
Immortal essence Virgin-element  
So may I term thy airy substance freed  
From the gross mixture of our earthly load:  
Oh I am thronged with passions & each craving vent  
None can have passage till some tears be spent,  
Fall fall ye silver pearls, and of the earth  
Purchase a soft relenting at my griefs.  
Shower down like rainy drops, and pierce the stones  
Make them receive my sorrows, or from mine eyes  
Run like to crystal rivers through the world,  
Slide o'er the flowery meadows that the nymphs  
Dancing in fairy rings upon the grass,  
May leave their sport, and weep to see you pass,  
Where by the doleful murmur as you go,  
The hills may hear you mourn and sound my woe,  
Pardon: if I be tedious virgin spirit,  
Or if my grief be too effeminate:  
Thy habit is an Index to revenge,  
Which thy wrongs seem to plead for of my love,  
Speak them, or deal them through the yielding air  
Into my ears, and they shall be to me  
Like the stern drum, or music of the war  
Unto the coward, or the fainting soldier.  Timo. 
Venice I was murdered.  Ven. 
Murder is open mouthed, and as the Sea  
Whose covetous waves imprisoned by thy land,  
Bellow for grief and roar upon the sand.  
So from the earth it cries, and like a child  
Wronged by his careless nurse will not be stilled:  
Are ye then deaf yea gods, ye cannot hear it?  
Or is just Libra fallen out of your Spheres,  
That wronged States must to the earth appeal  
For justice and revenge. Then 'tis not profane  
T'usurp your functions: my hand shall be as just  
As my soul loving: and they both shall leave  
A story to the world of my revenge.  
Nor in succeeding times shall be forgot.  
Venice revenged those wrongs the heavens would not.  
I interrupt what that wouldst say, and seem  
To crown all vengeance in a passion.  
Speak but his name.  Timo. 
My uncle Borgias.  Ven. 
Enough.  
O that the genius that attends on man,  
Should be a doubtful Oracle to the soul  
And whispering to our intellect what fate  
Hangs like a falling tower upon his state,  
Yet be no more of force to length our joy,  
Then were Cassandra's prophecies to Troy.  
Disloyal treacherous villain Borgias,  
Some Hydra's poison, or the blood of Nessus  
Cleave to thy flesh:  
Oh my blood swells beyond my power: my voice  
Louder than his that thunders through the clouds,  
Shall speak this monstrous murder to the world,  
I'll be thy Orator wrongd spirit and plead  
Blood and revenge for thee though thou best dead.  Timo. 
Stay.  Ven: 
What wouldst thou more?  Timo. 
Hear and be advised:  
Tomorrow when the Senate sits be there,  
And in the ears of the whole state proclaim,  
And justify my words 'gainst Borgias:  
In this alone I will great Venice prove,  
Do it as ever thou didst julia love.  Ven. 
I will.  Timo. 
Whilst I borne upon air attend my bliss.  Ven. 
Peace to thy soul: Adieu. Exit.  Timo. 
Remember julia.  
Yet prosper and go on, for Julia's ghost  
My false shape takes: th'abused Duke's afire,  
Through Borgias blood I'll run to my desire.  Enter Bordello solus. 
Whom have we here?  Bord. 
Priapus thou woman's God assist me with a jovial ability: this night I may beget a Hercules: Fortune I must confess thou hast turned up thy muffler, and cast a gracious aspect on Bordello: for I am not only in the state of clean linen; but also thou hast made me gracious in the eye of signor Diaspermaton my Apothecary, who hath furnished me with this receipt: here is a compound of Cantharides Diositerion, marrow of an Ox, hairs of a Lion, stones of a Goat, Cock-sparrows brains, and such like this after an hours receipt, hath a fourfold operation: and lest I should be like a Peacock all tail and no heart, here is a distillation of ten pound a pint, that comforts the inward, fires the brains, cheers up the spirit, and makes a man lay about him like a dutchman. Let me see, it is more than time that I commit this divine pill to his hopeful working: lest my staff be out of the rest when my adversary is in the career. So Cupid's fair mother be thy mid wife: out and alas I am mare rid, what sumner's Ghost or limb of Lucifer, puts poor Bordello in mind of penance before he hath trespassed?  Timo. 
I am espied: his fear doth apprehend me for a ghost,  
And I must feed it.  Bord. 
See, it makes toward me: infortunate Bordello that the devil should be an enemy to lechery.   

Scaena. 2.  Enter madam Fulsome, Eunuchus and Phego. Ful. 
Come let us set to our business, Phego,  
Lend us your wind to cool this posset.  Phego. 
It is not the first time I have been constrained to puff and blow in your ladyships service.  Ful. 
It hath oft come in my mind to know the derivation and denomination of this word posset?  Eunu. 
I take it that it comes of the Latin word posse to make a man able: and that's the reason ever after eating them, men desire to make experience of their forces.  Phego. 
I rather conceive it comes of the word pono of putting together, for that your possets are the usual means of congregating, putting and combining your Court creatures together.  Eunu. 
And that may well be: for I remember that reverent pedagogue William Lily, brings in gigno, pono, cano, one in the neck of another, gigno to beget, pono to put in, and cano to sing.  Ful. 
That Lily was a beastly knave to put pono behind gigno there is no music in it: but all this time we miss not signor Bordello, it hath not be his custom to be absent where his chops might have had employment.  Eunu. 
You speak of the days of hunger, when the slave was a stranger in the land of Havilah: but the word is retrograde: the last age is a golden age with him.  Enter Bordella. Fuls. 
See where the son of Saturn appears.  Eun. 
'sfoot I thought the Dogfish had been baiting Cerberus ere this time.  Bord. 
Ladies did you not see a spirit pass this way?  Eunu. 
Thou seest we are feeding the flesh man, what dost thou talk of the spirit?  Bord. 
Without jest a mere Ghost, standing bolt upright at timoclea's chamber, so nigh Court Incubus on my life.  Fuls. 
Were you not much terrified signor with the apparition?  Bord. 
How: terrified? I no sooner beheld it, but drawing my better parts together Enter Timoclea .Help, help! All run out, Timoclea follows the Eunuch out.   

Scena 3.  Enter Ferrara solus. Ferr. 
fear and suspicion, two night-waking charms,  
Banish all sleep, suggesting in my thoughts,  
Falsehood and treason: I am slow and dull,  
Descending like the earth: yet I know not what  
Pricks like the thorn of Philomel at my breast:  
And tells me there is danger in my rest.  
Sometime I think of julia: and that thought  
Presents her loves in a living shape.  
When not remembering death, I open my arms,  
To tie a Gordian knot about her waste  
And bid her welcome: but that empty clasp,  
Deluding my false hopes with nought but air,  
Makes my blood angry, and doth turn my passion  
To seek a subject fit for my revenge:  
And then I ever think of Borgias.  
As if my love were wronged by Borgias. A groaning within.  
What means these sudden tumults in mine ears?  
Save me eternal guard of innocence:  
Treason, treason, villain thou shalt buy my blood.  Eunuchus rusheth in: he kills him: Enter Timoclea. Eun. 
O spare me.  Fer. 
Distraction of my brain, what shape art thou?  Timo. 
Julia Exit.  Ferr. 
julia: hah: stay 'tis gone: did I see?  
Or did my fear and fancy frame this form?  
Villain thou art some instrument of falsehood  
Confess thy treason.  Eun. 
You are secure: that shape that named your love  
Pursued me through the court, till for my rescue  
Fear made me use this violence at your chamber.  
O I am slain, and die a causeless death,  
I near lived false to thee: all thou hast gained  
Is that my soul dies clear and leaves thine stained. He dies.  Ferr. 
To do thee good my soul shall say as much  
And witness it before the judge of souls,  
When at the general Bar we meet together.  
But I must use thy shape: this night I'll walk  
Hid in thy habit from discerning eyes:  
I'll pry about the Court, perhaps I may  
Once more see Julia's ghost, and learn her wrongs,  
By them to aim aright in my revenge.  
My hand first dies the scene: and it shall fill  
The stage with vengeance: Nemesis shall wade  
Up to the chin and bath herself in blood,  
The dangling snakes that hang about her neck  
Shall suck like Lethe of the purple gore  
Shed for my Julia's death.  
I'll feast the ravenous people of the air,  
And fill the hungry wolves with slaughtered men.  
The streets of Florence like the streets of Rome  
(When death & Sulla ranged) shall run with blood  
Their swelling channels with a scarlet tide  
Shall wash the stores, and for my Julia's death  
The angry gods of wrath shall smile as pleased  
To see me so revenged: Eunuchu, thy death  
Is but a prologue to induce a plot,  
mayst thou be blessed, thouart not worth my hate  
I must reach higher, and on thy disguise,  
Lay but the groundwork for revenge to rise. Exit.   

Scaena 4.  Enter muleasses solus. Mull. 
BE pleased ye powers of might, and 'bout me skip  
Your antic measures: like to coal black moors,  
Dancing their high Lavoltoes to the Sun  
Circle me round: and in the midst I'll stand  
And crack my sides with laughter at your sports.  
Oh my hopes fat me: nor shall time grow old,  
Or weary with attending my success.  
One night shall crown me happy: Borgias wife  
Appears unto the Dukes for Julia's ghost,  
To breed suspicion in them of her murder,  
So that if Borgia's chance survive this night  
(As he must die if all my plots hits right)  
The Dukes tomorrow when the Senate sits  
May prove what i'll affirm against his life.  
Nor to redeem his safety shall he bring  
The Lady to disprove what we aver.  
Here will I cease, and in some strange disguise  
Keep till my growing faction be of force  
To second my ambition for the crown.  
If I plot well fair Amada must die,  
And by her mother's hand: she must not live  
To speak her father's wrongs. Timoclea  
Thou, thou art next: I took thee from thy grave  
Not for the love I bore Timoclea,  
But to suck from thy use the sweets of love  
I bore to julia: 'twas love and state.  
save thee this time of life to strength my fate:  
But blab not: silence tongue: she comes.  Enter Timoclea. Timo. 
My Lord, what, drowned in contemplation?  
Mulleasses: love.  Mull. 
Heavenly creation, beauty's abstract, nature's wonder.  Timo. 
What means my Lord? awake, Timoclea speaks.  Mul. 
I must enjoy thee Amada: strong force of passion.  Timo. 
Ha: Amada: dearest Lord: your sense  
And know me.  Mul. 
Ha Timoclea: thy love and pardon, I was o'erborne,  
And carried from myself with idle thoughts  
Of what sad melancholy suggested in me:  
What comfort bringst thou? hath thy dead shape  
been powerful unto fear? stood they amazed?  
Their eyes like fired stars set on thy face:  
Their speech abrupt and short: their hair upright?  
Stiff like the quills of Porcupines? art blessed?  Timo. 
I am: if what you speak may make me blessed.  Mul. 
It makes us happy: gives our hope true life.  Timo. 
Neither my life nor hope to be so blessed  
Makes me so happy as thy love dear Turk.  
Were I a Venus thou shouldst be my Mars,  
And I would court thee even in Phoebus' sight,  
Although it moved an envy in the gods.  
Be Jovial: & like Salmecis, thy love  
Shall cling about thy neck.  Mull. 
I am not sportful:  Timo. 
I'll dance before thee like a fairy Nymph,  
And with my pleasing motions make thee sport:  
I'll court thee naked, as did the Queen of thoughts  
Her sullen boy, and all to make thee sport.  Mull 
You are not pleasing.  Timo. 
Not pleasing gentle Turk?  
Time hath not set the characters of age  
On my smooth brow: my pulses beat as high,  
As when my first youth lifted up my blood,  
I buy no beauty: nor hath nature been  
A niggard in my face: I am yet young  
Fresh and delight some, as the chequered spring,  
The Lily and the Rose grow in my cheeks,  
And make a bed for love to rest him on.  Mul. 
But I am restless.  Timo. 
Rest thee on my breast.  Mul. 
No I must pilgrim to a love divine.  Timo. 
Love me and unto love I'll build a shrine  
And on an Altar offer to our loves,  
The thighs of Sparrows and of Turtle Doves.  Mull. 
You are importunate.  Timo. 
Yield then and I have done.  Mul. 
No more:  
Fair Amada's the saint that I adore. Exit.  Timo. 
Amada: minion is it you?  
Makes me thus sue unheard? my daughter Amada  
Have I in my bosom nursed a snake:  
No fierce streamed torrent nor no storm at Sea,  
No stepdame is half so raging: my blood was not so strong,  
When thou wert got: now us like the Sea,  
My soul a Bark that runs with wind and tide  
And cannot stop: the Anchor of my thoughts  
(Reason) is lost, and like the vine-gods priests  
Running down Nisa or from Pindus' top,  
I am unstaid and doubtful in my course.  
O the strong power of sense: I must do that  
Which all succeeding times to come shall speak  
Yet not believe; all say 'twas done, yet none  
Say 'twas well done. Love is a God,  
Strong, free, unbounded, and as some define,  
Fears nothing, pitieth none: such love is mine. Exit.   
Finis Actus 3.   

Actus 4. Scena I.  Enter julia and Amada. Iuli. 
O Had our souls no deeper sense than flesh,  
Were they like waxen pictures formable:  
Obsequiously to take impression  
From every rude hand, and be like this will,  
That wils us unto some deformity,  
I should not Amada complain of wrong  
But make religion of my forced restraint:  
I then should sleep and pray: and on my beads  
Number devotion: my environed spirit  
Should not thus swell beyond my present freedom:  
Whisper my wrongs, and prompt my weaker powers  
To prone impatience  Ama. 
Madam I am yours.  
Let not the name of daughter unto him  
That hath confined your hope, be prejudice  
To those affections I bear your state:  
I'll prove 'gainst reason and received truth,  
Like breeds not like, in breeding every thing:  
Clear streams may flow even from a troubled spring.  Iuli. 
I am no infidel to thy position,  
Sad thoughts oppress me: may I have no music?  Ama. 
Yes Madam.  Iuli. 
Some say that when the Thracian entered hell,  
The tortured souls enchanted with his tunes,  
Felt not their torments: Sisyphus sat down,  
Ixion's wheel stood still: the thirsty son of jove,  
Forgot to drink, and all the rest did stand  
Catching the air from his delicious hand:  
I would I might partake their happiness.  Ama. 
Madam you shall: give your ears a while,  
And you shall hear such music as would make  
The greedy wolf forsake the tender lamb,  
And listen to it: such as the son of Neptune  
Played to the Dolphins: when they in a ring  
Danced their crooked measures but to hear him sing. A song,  
Madam how fare you now?  Iuli. 
even as the labouring dayman after sleep.  Enter Timoclea like a Ghost. 
Refreshed and cherished: ha but Amada.  Amad. 
Some better Genius assist my fear.  Iuli. 
What would it Amada, it beckons to thee?  Ama. 
My mother's troubled spirit: O defend me heavens.  Timo. 
Away: Amada.  Iuli. 
It commands my absence.  Ama. 
O for heavens sake stay.  Timo. 
Away.  Iul. 
Something it would unfold to thee: I go. Exit julia.  Timo. 
Contain thy fear, I live.  Ama. 
Such terror lives not in a living eye,  
Death is not sharper than those pointed beams  
That pierce unto my heart.  Timo. 
Would they were poniards digging at thy breast.  
Keep in thy short-drawn accents: let not th'air  
Carry the softest clamour to the ear  
Of waking Jealousy: if it do—  
How Lust and Nature do divide my soul?  
The one doth plead prescription in my blood,  
And sues as plaintive with such clamorous spells,  
As might conjure the violent rape of Lust  
To modest continence: O but it is a vice  
Sooner condemned than banished: easily spoke against  
But yet 'twill fawn as smoothly on our flesh,  
As Circe on the Grecian travellers,  
When she detained them in the shape of beasts.  
Amada knowest thou my face?  Ama. 
I knew that outward Character of her  
That sometimes I called mother.  Tym. 
Dost think I have no life?  
Seest not my blood in a continual pulse  
Beat through the azure conduits of my flesh?  
Feel how I burn: what star'st thou on me?  
Am I transparent? canst see from my heart  
Death in the shape of jealousy: stand  
Like a chief organ guiding all my frame,  
Unto some tragic action?  Ama. 
O give my sense some freedom  
From fear and terror, that I may distinguish  
Betwixt the credulous rumour of your death,  
And what I see.  Tym. 
I live, the time befits not inquisition  
Of tedious circumstance: Amada I live:  
But thou must die, and by thy mother's hand.  Ama. 
O be not a Medea.  Tym. 
Why like Creusa hast thou stolen my Jason?  
My muleasses he dotes upon thee:  
I am debarred his breast,  
Robbed of his love by thy alluring looks.  
Sad discontent wound in his folded arms,  
Sighs nought but Amada: but by my better hopes  
My blood shall like Medusa's first turn to serpents  
And taint thy flesh, ere it shall lose that fire  
Which makes it boil and burn in his desire.  Ama. 
Deform my beauty fill my face with scars,  
Make me more loath some then a dead man's skull:  
Wash me with spider's blood, that I may swell,  
And be more ugly than a Gorgon's head,  
That he may fear to see me: only let me live,  
And spare me that that only you did give.  Time. 
My pleasure gave thee life, and it resumes  
That life again, because it kills my pleasure:  
thouart like an ivy nourished at the root  
Of some proud oak: that not content to creep  
And feed upon the sap, but stretching up,  
Proudly presum'st to overlook the top:  
So that the verdure of the ambitious imp,  
Detains all admiration: the Oak wants grace,  
Only because the ivy is in place.  Enter muleasses. 
But I'll displant thee for no weed shall grow  
So near the root from whence my sap doth flow.  she kills her. Ama. 
Cruel unnatural: heaven my hopes in thee  
If virgin pureness please, accept of me. moritur  Mul. 
What, do you Christians sacrifice with flesh?  
Or like the Laodiceans unto Pallas, offer  
The blood of virgins? O inhuman deed,  
Ungentle monster, beauteous Amada!  Timo. 
It was her beauty that I offered up  
Unto thy love my dearest muleasses.  Mull. 
Worse than a camel in her time of lust,  
Cruel unto thy child: lose thy snaky arms  
O thou hast done  Timo. 
As Lucius Catiline  
Rome's terror did for Orestilla, killed  
My child: no more: for muleasses love,  
I would outgo examples, and exceed  
As in desire, all others so indeed.  Mul. 
And yet I love thy cruelty: for this night thou must  
Discard the timorous pity of thy Sex:  
Be a Semiramis: let thy husband's death  
Give thy hopes life: feed, feed upon his blood,  
And let thy veins swell: now he prepares to bed  
Be thine own ghost: and like the apparition  
Of his believed wife call for revenge:  
Incite his timorous conscience to despair,  
Speak of damnation: let one word contain  
A hell of torments. But time slides.  Timo. 
I run. Exit.  Mul. 
Much ere the morning riseth must be done,  
I'll bear this body hence: ha ha ha,  
O now methinks I 'gin outreach myself,  
Now like some huge colossus cold I strut,  
And stride that Oak of Mahomet: that bears up  
The ponderous centre: whose divided horns  
Measuring the passing of a thousand years,  
Touch at both poles, and toss the massy ball:  
Makes mountains nod and curled Cedars reel  
On Syrian Lybanus. But soft methinks I hear within oh oh  
Some mutinous and distracted tumult.  Enter Borgias & Timoclea after him. Borg. 
Guard me ye just and intellectual powers  
Thou triple & eternal essence.  Timo. 
Borgias.  Borg. 
What dreadful summons calls on Borgias?  
What art thou?  Timo. 
Timoclea thy poisoned wife.  Borg. 
What wouldst thou, Hah.  Timo. 
Revenge and horror.  Borg. 
Terror to my soul: forbear those looks.  Timo. 
Despair and vengeance.  Borg. 
mayst thou be peaceful, in my prayers I wish it,  
Let them expiate my sin: if thou be'st a spirit  
Blessed and celestial: change that face of fear,  
Or leave th'infectious grossness of our air,  
And like an Angel dance about the Spheres,  
Play with the Moon and make the Sun thy glass,  
To see thy beauty as thy bevy pass.  
Or if thou be'st—  Timo. 
A messenger of death.  Borg. 
Then like a Fury post to Tartarus,  
Fetch up the snaky curled Eumenides:  
From Orcus' bottom where revengeful cares  
Grief, pale diseases, sad and crooked age  
Are ever resident: let them and their effects  
Let fierce Erennis with her brazen feet,  
Seize me at once, and strike me in my fall,  
Lower than him that durst ascend the Sun.  
Only be thou appeased.  Timo. 
Not till I meet thee in the shades of death.  Borg. 
Which thou deniest me: for thy fears keep in  
My trembling soul: it dares not leave my breast,  
Mount to the flaming girdle of the world,  
And fetch me lightnings, I will swallow it.  
Snatch from the Cyclops balls of Etnean fire  
And I will eat them: steal thunder from the clouds  
And dart it at me: quaff Stygian Nonocris  
I will pledge thee.  Timo. 
I'll haunt thee to despair. Exit Borgias. Timoclea following him.  Mul. 
Pursue his fear to some effect of death,  
Whilst I like stars that spread their sparkling fires  
Beyond an usual light foreshow a tempest  
Of the whole state of Florence. Amadas removed  
Her near alliance unto Julia's blood,  
Shall not distaste my hopes: timoclea's fear  
Works death on Borgias: up muleasses  
Sit like Saturnus on the highest orb,  
And let stargazing wizards from thy fear,  
Buzz sad Astrology in the people's ear.  Enter Borgias and Timoclea aloft. Borg. 
What night or what dark Chaos can conceal  
My conscience horror? rather let me see  
The fear of Hercules: let the Cretian Bull  
Bellow and burst my brains: only may my ears  
Be deaf to thy exclaims.  Timo. 
Thou art at farthest.  Borg. 
Then I can but fall. He leaps down.  Timo. 
Like Lucifer from heaven. discendit Timoclea.  Mul. 
Oh now methinks a Chorus all of Angels  
Clad with the Sun and crowned with golden stars,  
Should make more heavenly music at thy fall  
Then all the Spheres that dance about the ball:  
Now should they poetize in verse for joy,  
And outsing Homer in the fall of Troy.  Borg. 
Villain triumphest thou?  Mull. 
O ye strong power of superstitious faith  
It reigns on fools: that men of wit and state,  
Men that like Eagles climb to be above,  
And shroud themselves between the knees of Jove  
Should be struck down by apparitions.  Enter Timoclea. Timo. 
Delusive counterfeit.  Borg. 
counterfeit!  Timo. 
I Valentine I live:  
And am the actor of mine own revenge.  
That cup of poison made against my life,  
Was by my dearest muleasses love  
Turned to a philtre: and my working sense,  
Charmed in the silence of a quiet sleep,  
Showed as if death had locked my pulses up,  
But posting time brought motion on my blood.  
And now my full veins like a water-brook,  
That sliding gently at some proud hills foot,  
In pipes of lead are carried to the top,  
And there in amorous branches spreading forth,  
Courts the curled mountain thus, thus, and thus: she kisses him.  Borg. 
Lascivious strumpet.  Timo. 
My beloved Turk.  Borg. 
Incestuous Phedra.  Timo. 
Love Hippolytus.  Borg. 
Cruel Medea.  Timo. 
My kind jason.  Borg. 
Whirl me ye just & more auspicious powers,  
Amongst the thick and thunder darting clouds,  
That being wrapped in flames I may be thrown,  
Like Aetnean balls from heaven and strike you down:  
Or would my dying breath were more infectious  
Than half rot bodies digged up from their graves,  
Or then those mists felt by the souls of men,  
When they descend toth' Acharusian fen.  
It should not strive within me, or be loath  
To leave my body might it blast you both. He feigns to die.  Timo. 
So with thy death the embryon of my love  
Takes perfect shape. Now like the Sestian maid  
May I court Leander swimming in my arms,  
And with our pleasing motions mock the seas  
That rose and fell to wanton with his thighs:  
Now there's no Hellespont betwixt our loves:  
I am not jealous: Agamemnon's dead,  
And Clytaemnestra with Aegisthus plays:  
Pleasure is free.  Mul. 
Come there's no pleasure in you:  
You're a lustful time spent murderous strumpet,  
The prostitution of your known bordelloes,  
Where every itching lecher vents his blood,  
Is not so loathsome.  Tim. 
You speak not like a lover.  Mull. 
No, for thou hast killed my love Amada:  
And now thy husband's blood bids me beware  
Of some new lust and third adulterer:  
Such is your love to me.  Timo. 
Oh stop those killing accents, be more mild  
I do forgive what you did speak: and ask  
But a kind thought for all my loving task.  
These eyes have seen you smile: look gently on me,  
And let me read some milder characters:  Mull. 
Hence with thy Serpent twines.  Timo. 
I am no Lamia nor no Lestrygon,  
No high-prized Lais: that thou shouldst esteem  
Repentance purchased at too dear a rate:  
Kings shall not come to Corinth where thou mayst,  
Not with a common Ephereian trull,  
Purchase a minute's pleasure: but with me  
(As fair but yet more chaste by far then she)  
Spend years of sweet content.  Mull. 
Siren mine ears are stopped I will not hear thee.  Timo. 
Oh would I had a siren's charming voice,  
I'd use no incantations but to thy ears,  
Or were my tongue like Orpheus golden lyre,  
To which the winds were hushed and heard it play  
It should be silent but to please thy ears,  
Or like the dying swan, would I might sing  
A funeral elegy to my parting soul,  
So that the music might but please thy ears:  
What should I say?  Mull. 
Be dumb and leave me.  Timo. 
Not till thou love, or else of life bereave me. Exeunt.  Borg. 
Ha,  
Are ye gone: all clear, damnation cease ye,  
ay, a known practised politician,  
And thus outreached: O my shallow brains.  
Fell I so high? would I had fallen from heaven:  
So, like a Phaeton I had fired the world:  
Or like a flash of lightning on your heads,  
Consumed you for these tricks: I died in tims  
Like a true coward, counterfeited death,  
For fear to die indeed: well then for my life  
I am beholding yet unto my wit:  
But for my legs I know not how they stand,  
Are my bones stiff still, not broken?  Enter muleasses. 
Ha?  he falls again. Mull. 
I am at last freed of my lustful love,  
My hope is yet despair will arm her hands  
To her own death, and save my sword a labour:  
If not, 'tis but the taking back of what I gave,  
And send her once again into her grave.  
Now for my julia, she is the main of all,  
Her will I cease and keep, until the Fleet  
Now under sail for Florence be arrived,  
From the grand signor sent to make me strong,  
And get command upon the straits: howsoe'er  
'twas promised Borgias to make strong his part,  
Against the Dukes: she being had,  
My title's firm for Florence, their claim's bad.  
Eunuch.  Enter Ferrara disguised. Ferr. 
Your pleasure.  Mul. 
See you this body?  Ferr. 
I do.  Mul. 
Convey it to his bed there let it lie,  
The murder I'll transport upon the Dukes,  
Or on some treason by their means contrived:  
See it be done.  Ferr. 
It shall.  Mull. 
Now unto julia, on her lies my state,  
If she consents: why so: if not I know  
Death and command makes women's hearts to bow. Exit  Ferr. 
The death of slaves pursue thee. hah Borgias,  
Protector: true true: clap clap ye furies,  
Dance your black rounds, and with your iron whips,  
Fetching eternal lashes as you skip  
Strike a loud sounding music through the air,  
And make the night Queen pale to hear your noise.  
Be peaceful wronged Ghost wheresoe'er thou be'st,  
Post to the blessed fields where souls take rest:  
Drink Lethe freely for thou art revenged.  
Come thou enclosure of a damned soul,  
I'll be obedient bear to thy bed,  
Then in my chamber laugh that thou art dead.  Ferrara takes up Borgias, Borgias draws out Ferrara's dagger and stabs him with it. 
What sudden pain assaults my yielding heart?  Borg. 
Ha ha, ha, you'll bear me to my bed,  
Then in your chamber laugh that I am dead.  Ferr. 
Livest thou damned villain?  Borg. 
I live, and laugh wild slave to see thy fall,  
This is the enclosure of a damned soul,  
Villain thou shalt not breathe another word.  Ferr. 
Stay but a minute longer, know that I have  
Thy promise and thy oath to be my guard,  
Thy slave I murdered and assumed his shape,  
I am Ferrara.  Borg. 
Ferrara, ha? true true, clap clap ye furies  
Dance your black rounds, and with your iron whips,  
Fetching eternal lashes as ye skip,  
Strike a loud sounding music through the air  
And make the night's Queen pale to hear your noise:  
You have my oath and promise for your guard:  
So wise men promise fools, but their reward  
Like thine Ferrara is the loss of breath.  Ferr. 
justice I thee implore, revenge my death  Borg. 
muleasses thinks me dead, and in his plots  
Goes on securely: I'll return his policies,  
And upon him transport Ferrara's murder.  
My wife he hath forsook: that sweetens danger  
That I but live to see revenge on her.  
My weak force built upon the Turkish fleet,  
I see is ruined, and I but undermined:  
No hope is left save in mine own command  
And power with the state: whose light credulity,  
I easily did delude with Julia's death.  
But yet Timoclea lives, and may perhaps  
Escape her false loves hate: which if she do,  
This black night's horror falls like thunder on me:  
She must not live till day: be ever dark.  
Stand night upon the noonestead: and attend  
My fate's security: if ever blackness pleased  
Or deeds to which men may resemble thee,  
Turn then thy sooty horse, and with their feet,  
Beat at the rising morn: & force the Sun,  
Forbear his lustre till this black deed's done. Exit.  
Finis Actus quart.   


Actus 5 Scena I.  Enter Timocleasola. Timo. 
HEll and ye furies wheresoe'er you be,  
show me your tortures, and present yourselves  
Or let the burning monarch clad in flame,  
Make an infernal echo to my name.  
I know not what I say: Timoclea wronged,  
Love-slighted and contemned: O my wish!  
That like the cross-eyed witch of Thessaly  
My voice could through the rivets of the earth  
Hollo and call revenge: or rather: what?  
My dangerous ghost attired like Nemesis  
About her middle for a virgin Zone  
Girt with a forked-toothed serpent, vent at my breast  
That did exceed a stepdame in my lust.  
Forbear yet gentle maid; thy father's soul  
Kneels at the brazen Throne of Radamanth  
And craves that office: Whither am I borne?  
Despair, thou art a false glass to the soul,  
And in the conscience dazzled with thy guilt  
Of many sins, dost vary forms of fear.  
I not believe thy forced suggestions,  
I am seduced by passion: death and terror.  Borg. 
Error, within.  Timo. 
False air thou liest I err not: my loves wrong  
I'll tear out of my breast: forget those hopes  
Made my hands bloody: I am clear unstained:  Borg. 
Stained:  Timo. 
Forbear thy thunder gentle, gentle voice,  
Beat not my conscience torments 'gainst the walls,  
To make the Court ring with thy clamorous answers:  
Heavens let my tears redeem me unto life.  Borg. 
Life.  Timo. 
Of my terror: I desire not: speak of death.  Borg. 
Death.  Timo. 
Of my daughter: how easy through the air  
Our sins are hurried: thou canst tell of murder.  Borg. 
Murder.  Timo. 
I of my husband: night thy coal-black wings  
though darker than the Moons eclipsed brow  
Are not fit Canopies for sin.  Enter Borgias. Borg. 
Timoclea.  Timo. 
Distraction of my soul, who breathes my name!  Borg. 
The airy breath of him that sometime lived  
A tenant in the breast of Borgias,  
By thee driven out the frame and house of life.  Timo. 
By me  Borg. 
And now like one whom stern oppression throws  
Naked out of all he did possess: being robbed and spoiled  
Of the warm covert he inhabited,  
I sigh my helpless wrongs, and in the air  
Counting all hope I had, find all despair.  Timo. 
Despair.  Borg. 
And empty longings for an end of pain,  
Which I still wish and crave.  Timo. 
But never gain.  Borg. 
Never.  Timo. 
Forgive me.  Borg. 
Ask it of the heavens,  
To whom my blood with ceaseless clamours calls  
For justice and revenge.  Timo. 
justice in heaven is like my sin 'gainst thee  
Cruel: and sooner may I with my knees  
Eat through the centre: from these pearly eyes  
Should there fall down more tears of penitence  
Then the clouds drop to purchase a new spring  
I could not be forgiven.  Borg. 
Death is the winter doomed unto thy soul  
Disrobe it of that warm and wanton flesh,  
The mouth of justice bids Timoclea die.  Timo. 
Be thou then justice executioner  
Revengeful spirit: in this flesh of mine  
Carve thy revenge in characters of blood  
Blast me: or from the centres hollow deep  
Let lose some conjured tempests: whose loud storms  
Driven through the air sings horror to the world,  
And let them hurl me 'gainst the labouring clouds  
Sink to the brazen-gated deep Abyss,  
Where furies sit curling their snakes in knots,  
And pull a viper from Allecto's head,  
And on these breasts that in thy heat of life,  
Have been as pillows to advance thy lust  
Let it suck freely: the Egyptian Queen  
near died more daring.  
And to the stern commissioners of blood,  
Be a glad Hermes: tell them, Timoclea  
Takes vengeance on herself dull Element be gone.  Borg. 
The morning's saffron horse breathes from the East  
Their spicy vapours, sucked from th'Indian plains  
And through the gentle air hurl their perfumes.  
I hear the sun's steeds trot towards the milky way,  
And in a Coach of flames draw up the day:  
Aurorat usher to the stars of night,  
Tells the approaching of the God of light:  
They 'gin to twinkle and take in their fires  
At their eclipse we spirits leave the air,  
And in a dismal vale of darkness groan,  
Under the burden of a thousand chains:  
I must away, thou only dost detain me,  
With want of vengeance, which thy death must gain me.  Tim. 
It shall, it shall:  
Hard hap of misery, it hath many hands,  
That like the windings of a labyrinth,  
Leads the despairing wretch into a maze:  
But not an Ariadne in the world,  
That lends a clue to led us out the world.  
The very maze of horror.  
Cease thou that stands first mover of the Spheres  
From whose high concave all inferior fires  
Derive successive motion.  
Stand ye night-wandering planets in a maze,  
And from your hollow Fabrics view Timoclea,  
Or else ye heavens put in your flaring lights,  
And on your azure-ceiled arches hang  
A raven-black Canopy of congealed clouds  
That you may seem a Chaos to the world,  
And bode eternal darkness: thou wert not made to kill,  Looks on her hair displayed. 
Nor was the Diadem of her Pontic Queen  
Made as a fatal instrument of death,  
And yet it was the engine stop her breath  
As thou must mine. Soul of Borgias  
Thus to thy ghost I sacrifice my life,  
To buy thy requiem.  Borg. 
I accept it wife.  He strangles her with her own hair. 
And thus return the fall of Borgias.  
Nay nay repent not dear Timoclea,  
You're caught in faith: then like a Lioness  
Snared in the wary hunter's tangled toils,  
Grind the thin air: swell higher till thou burst,  
And let the breath that like a vapour priest  
Struggle within thy bosom, hurl thee up.  
Soft— the time spends fast, & I have much to think of  
Before the tell-tale god displays his light,  
To show the world the horror of this night.  
First for thy death the lustful Turk must die,  
My rival in the love of julia.  
Him I'll accuse for murdering thee. The Dukes  
Because his claim may alienate my hopes  
Him in my accusation I will join  
As joint coagent in the Turk devices.  
As for that rumour of fair Julia's death,  
I'll first proclaim her life: and on muleasses  
(Who now detains her) will transfer the falsehood,  
As if myself had been by him deluded:  
These mazes when like Theseus I have trodden  
Fortune shall spread her wings to make me sails,  
And with a strong air cut the angry tide,  
That into mountains swells to stay my pride.  
Hah! what heavy noise beats through my ears?  
Hang heavy Morpheus on the eyes of men,  
And make suspicion sleep.  Enter Philenzo and Phego. Philen. 
The rumours strange I pray possess me with your proper knowledge.  Phego. 
You shall understand Sir, that according to my function, giving near attendance to my Lady, she being fervently employed in the Lobby, about a mixture or composure of (as we vulgarly term it) a posset: upon our first entrance, ere we had relished the sweet of her sweet, that is the fruit of her labours, we were suddenly assailed by a she-goblin: to describe it Sir I am not able, for my eyesight turned inward to look after my heart that was running from my heels, yet thanks to the lankness of my calf they made reasonable haste.  Borg. 
Heart of all mischief see the Court is up,  
Hell and the darkness keep me from their sight.  Philen. 
At midnight did Ferrara leave his chamber,  
Heavens be his safety.  Phego. 
A ghost a ghost. Exit Borgias  Philen. 
Pursue it where it goes: fear shall not stop me.  
Follow me sir, I'll speak to it, though death  
Cease on my life: it shall not lose mine eyes  
Unless it sink into the earth. Exit.  Phego. 
'Sfoot my office is italianated, I am feign to come behind.  Enter Bordello. Bord. 
Was ever man thus distracted between the flesh and the spirit? 'sfoot this Pill hath so fired my mansion that unless I light on some waterwork, I shall lose the rains like a second Phaeton, and burn my Fabric. Surely I am that Tantalus the hungry Poets talk of, and am as dry as an Eel in a sandbag, and yet want water for the reaching: Let me see, why should I fear spirits that have raised up such an able one at my pleasure, that like a bold Orator stands on tiptoes to speak in Bar: and yet methinks he should be no good pleader, he was so suddenly dejected and out of countenance with an apparition. I would the case were laid open, that I might see how my young mooter would bestir himself: Ha: who is this? no more ghosts I hope: if it be it is the more womanly of the two. She lies as if she knew the end of her creation. On my life some waiting maid that hath a Court Epilepsy come upon her: I'll see if she foam at the mouth. Out & alas, the heavens have conspired poor bordelloes overthrow. The virtuous Timoclea wretched and most accursed hands, that have trust up my fortunes in thy elf-knot.   

Scaena 2.  Enter Duke of Venice, Lord Prusias Attend. Lord. 
THese apparitions do import more weight  
Than our distracted judgements can yet poise,  
Yet mighty Duke suspend a while all fear  
If both my power in state and worth in honour  
May be sufficient gage to be your guard  
Then think you are in safety.  Ven. 
Sir we thank you: neither is there one  
Known unto us in Florence, on whose worth,  
I dared assure such safety as from you,  
And to that end I brought this gentleman,  
As well to acquaint you with this deep occurrence,  
That much concerns your present state, as crave  
A guard for our security 'gainst danger.  Prus. 
Respect your guard great Duke. Villain what art thou  Bord. 
A most dejected parcel of man's flesh.  Prus. 
Lend your eyes and see  
A deed as black as is the time that hides it:  
A murdered gentlewoman.  Lord. 
Ignoble villain, could thy coward-arm  
Presume the least wrong to her feeble sex?  Bord. 
Wrong: heavens know I meant to have done her as much right as could have been done to one of her sex.  Ven. 
Death hath not changed her form: see her face,  
You may discern her by her character.  Lord, 
She bears the image of Timoclea  
Wife unto Borgias.  Ven. 
Soul of delusion, in this very shape  
The ghost of julia was presented unto me.  Lord. 
Amazement and the giddy thought of fear  
Run an unsteady circuit through my brain:  
Thy fear and trembling doth proclaim thy guilt.  Bord. 
Alas Sir my shaking proceeds of a standing ague I have had this two hours.  Lord. 
The time importunates and craves sudden counsel.  
Guard cease him safe, some bear this body hence,  
we'll unto Borgias chamber, him we'll wake,  
Acquaint him with the ground of our suspicion:  
Mean time be safe in me: nor love nor life  
Shall turn mine honours current: I'll be your guard:  
This hand seems your person, or my sword  
Shall in the traitors heart make good my word. Exeunt.   

Scena 3.  Enter muleasses & julia etc. Iuli. 
IF thou be'st human, then forsake thy suit  
Your words are strange to me: my virgin ears  
near knew such sound: desist I will not bow.  Mull. 
We lose all pleasure that we do not know  
Then like Pandora view those heavenly gifts.  
The Gods have decked thee with: See but thyself  
And taste more pleasure from thy proper good  
Then from the full horn of the Protean flood:  
Elysium is in thee, and I implore—  Iuli. 
sirens have left the Sea and sing on shore.  Mull. 
Could I outsing those sirens julia,  
Or were my voice as tuneful as that harp  
That now vies music with the harmonious orbs,  
To which each learned Sister nailed a star,  
Thou mightst with safety hear me: thy uncles love  
Cold as the white head of the Apennine  
feels not my fire: ambition of rule  
turns all the heat is left in him to incest.  
If thy warm blood (that dallies in thy veins,  
And through thy flesh like wanton rivulets' plays)  
Desires with Nile to rise above her banks,  
And vent in pleasure on the neighbouring plains;  
A carpet richer than the breast of Tempe,  
Or Tagus yellow channel, shall be spread  
And priest with Julia's weight.  
Nor the blue Sea-god when in storms he treads  
On pearls as Orient as the rising East,  
For which the toiling Negro dives in vain,  
Are boasted of such wealth: thy bed as soft  
As down feathers plucked from Leda's swans,  
Shall yield unto thy dalliance,  
A hundred boys like winged Cherubins  
As fair as Psyche's love shall—  julia. 
Enough, too much: I am not fit for pleasure  
Or if I were thy Mermaid eloquence  
Sounds harsher in my ears then Silla's dogs  
Unto the frighted Seaman.  Mul. 
Lady.  julia. 
Heathen profane.  Mull. 
Be gentle Madam.  julia 
If thou be'st gentle leave me Mahomet  
Our loves like our religions are at wars  
And I disclaim all peace.  Mull. 
And I a lovers smoothness: your uncle's dead  
His power is mine, and you must go.  julia. 
Soul of wrongs: whither? you're both too weak  
there's more than woman in me: villain, slave:  Mul. 
You urge me unto violence come to my chamber.  julia. 
In hell or in my grave: a rape, treason: treason.  Lord. 
A guard, a guard.  Mull. 
Death of my hope the Court is up.  Enter Lord, Venice, and attendants: with Bordello bound. Ven. 
From hence the voice was heard, be circumspect.  julia. 
Treason, treason.  Lord. 
Who speaks that word?  julia. 
julia your Sovereign.  Mul. 
Silence or thou diest.  Lord. 
Error of darkness in what Labyrinth  
Our souls are plunged: raise the Court: julia?  Iul. 
I.  Ven. 
julia and muleasses?  Mul. 
julia and muleasses fond Venetian  
Prevented at the point of happiness:  Ven. 
Thus I redeem her.  Mul. 
And like Cephalus kill thine own Procris.  Iul. 
Save me.  Lord. 
Thy death shall be her freedom infidel.  Mul. 
Why stop you in your courses short breathed Christians?  
Nail us together. Now methinks I stand  
Like a proud Lion with a richer prize  
Than Nessus would have stolen from Hercules  
And dare your envies: my death unto your state  
shallbe as ominous as his poisoned shirt:  
Your false Protector's dead: he mocked your griefs  
And made you weep at Julia's funeral,  
Whose hope I underwrought, and now had worn  
The wreath of Florence: Love and ambition,  
Kindled my cold brain from their mutual heat  
Sprung my aspiring aim: nor shall it sink  
But in the death of julia: since I cannot  
Quench my hot thirst of Lust, and cool the heat  
That hotter than the coals of Parta  
Burn in my liver: like the snowy Dragon,  
Tangling the Elephant in his snarled orbs:  
I'll die in the pursuit of my desire,  
And mix our bloods in death to sate my fire,  Ven. 
Hold monster.  Lord. 
Damnation on thy soul.  Ven. 
Thy death shall ransom her.  Mul. 
Death double thy feared force, and it some form  
Affright pale Hecate darken the Moon,  
I like the Sun, backed on th'Arcadian beast,  
When in his burning progress he did singe  
Adonis' gardens: from my soul's fair light  
Chase cloudy fear: and like Thetis son,  
When he was ointed with Ambrosia  
Am more than fire-proof: lives julia yet?  Ven. 
She lives damned villain and outlives thy hate.  Mull. 
Death had been kind in her: with her I might  
Under the cool shades of Elysium  
Played before Pluto and made Proserpine  
As jealous as juno of my love—  
But since I must not  Enter Borgias Philenzo, Phego. Borg. 
Up from the dark earth's exhalations  
Thicker than lerna's foggy mists and hide me:  
I cannot lose their sight, hell of fear!  Phil. 
It flies our eager steps: follow, follow.  Lord. 
What means these clamours: Borgias?  Mul. 
Hah, Borgias:  Borg. 
Horror of souls I am surprised.  Mull. 
Illusive air, false shape of Borgias,  
Could thy vain shadow work a fear in him  
That like an Atlas underwent the earth  
When with a firm and constant eye he saw  
Hells fifty headed Porter: thus I'd prove  
Thy apparition idle:— runs at Borgias.  Borg. 
Treason: I live: Devils and Furies I am slain.  Lord. 
Wonder of admiration: what distraction is this?  Mul. 
Ha ha, ha: climb high my mounting spirit  
And when thou hast aspired to thy full height  
Like a colossus on a base of clouds  
Stand and applaud thy fortunes: Borgias  Borg. 
Grinest hellish Antic?  Mul. 
Should the Cecropian thief stretch my torn flesh  
Racked on his bed of steel: if on Caucasus  
My growing liver were exposed a prey  
To ravening vultures: I would still laugh  
To see thee like a falling Pine-tree reel  
In a rough tempest.  Borg. 
Hold up ye broken organs of my soul  
Carry me high and make me stand as firm  
As Oaks on Ossa: that advance their tops  
Even till their roots break. Timoclea  Mull. 
For love of me killed her own child  
Thy daughter Amada.  Lord. 
Amazement!  Borg. 
Blessed fates I thank you: I shall die revenged  
Fly, jove loved Nemesis and at justice feet  
Shake thy triumphal Ash: I slew Timoclea  Mull. 
By thee before thought dead  
I took her from the hearse of julia,  
When in the habit of a murdered ghost,  
This night she appeared to the Duke, to breed  
Suspect in them of thee, and arm their hate  
Unto my plotted faction.  Ven. 
Damned illusion.  Lord. 
Where is Ferrara?  Phil. 
heavens be his guard.  Borg. 
So they are. He killed my slave  
And in his habit by this hand he died.  Phil. 
False perjured villain. He runs at him.  Borg. 
Sink, sink Cithaeron, high Pallene tremble  
Green Tempe wither, and with me forego  
Your place and being, this whole world of flesh  
With fatal earthquakes totters.  
False Turk thy fate be but as cruel as is Borgias hate. moritur.  Mul. 
Stoop down thou Lydian mount, bend thy cold head  
And hide it in thy brackish father's waves  
That as thou shrinkest, thy starry load may nod  
At muleasses fall: or ever shroud  
Those joyful bonfires in a mourning cloud. moritur.  Ven. 
Just end of treason.  Lord. 
Madame our duties joy your life  
And wish your happiness.  Ven. 
As the just reward of danger.  
My Lord I claim her love.  Lord. 
Not without justice brave venetian  
She is herself and free.  julia. 
And thus I give myself.  Lord. 
heavens seal it for the the good of both our states.  Ven. 
Philenzo:  
We can but grieve at great Ferrara's loss:  
Ambassadors from us shall plead our sorrows  
Even to your senates: mean time his obsequies  
Shall want no honour: signor Bordello  
We give you liberty: what remains undone  
Shall by the Senate be confirmed: lead on.    
FINIS.