THE DUKE OF Milan.  
A tragedy.  
As it hath been often acted by his Majesty's servants, at the black Friars.  
Written by PHILIP MASSINGER Gent.  
LONDON Printed by E. A. for Edward Blackmore, and are to be sold at his shop at the great South door of Paul's. 1623.   

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE AND MUCH ESTEEMED FOR HER HIGH BIRTH, BUT MORE ADMIred for her virtue, the Lady KATHERINE STANHOPE, wife to PHILIP Lord STANHOP, Baron of Shelford.  
MADAM: If I were not most assured that works of this nature, hath found both patronage, and protection, amongst the greatest Princesses of italy, and are at this day cherished by persons most eminent in our kingdom, I should not presume to offer this my weak, and imperfect labours, at the altar of your favour, let the example of others more knowing, and more experienced in this kind (if my boldness offend) plead my pardon, and the rather since there is no other means left me (my misfortunes having cast me on this course, to publish to the world, if it hold the least good opinion of me) that I am ever your ladyship's creature vouchsafe therefore with the never sailing clemency, of Your Noble disposition, not to contemn the tender of his duty, who while he is, will ever be.  
An humble servant to your Ladyship, and yours. PHILIP MESSENGER:   

THE NAMES OF THE ACTORS.  

Ludovico Sforza. a supposed Duke of Milan.  
Signior Francisco. his especial favourite.  
Tiberio. two Lords of his Counsel. Stephano.  
Pescara, a marquess, and friend to Sforza.  
Graccho. a creature of Mariana sister to Sfozra.  
Charles the Emperor.  
Hernando Captains to the Emperor. Medina  
Marcelia. the Duchess wife to Sforza.  
Isabella. mother to Sforza.  
Mariana. wife to Francisco, and sister to Sforza.  
Eugenia. sister to Francisco.   

2. Posts.  
A Beadle.  
Waiters.  
Mutes.    

UPON THIS work OF HIS beloved friend the AUTHOR.  

I Am snapped already, and may go my way;  
The poet-critic's come; I hear him say,  
This youth's mistook, The author's work's a PLAY.   

He could not miss it; he will straight appear  
At such a bait; 'twas laid on purpose there  
To take the vermin, and I have him here.   

Sirrah, you willbe nibbling; a small bit,  
(a syllable) when yo' are i' the hungry fit,  
Will serve to stay the stomach of your wit.   

Fool; Knave; what's worse? for worse cannot deprave  
And were the devil now instantly to have thee, (thee  
Thou canst not instance such a work to save thee.   

'mongst all the ballets which thou dost compose,  
And what thou stillest thy Poems, ill as those,  
And void of rhyme, and reason, thy worse Prose.   

Yet like a rude jack-sauce in Poesy,  
With thoughts unblessed, and hand unmannerly,  
Ravishing branches from Apollo's tree.   

Thou mak'st a garland (for thy touch unfit)  
And boldly deckest thy pig-brained sconce with it,  
As if it were the Supreme Head of wit.   

The blameless Muses blush; who not allow  
That reverend Order, to each vulgar brow,  
Whose sinful touch profanes the holy Bough.   

Hence (shallow Prophet) and admire the strain  
Of thine own Pen, or thy poor Copesmat's vain.  
This PIECE too precarious is, for thy course brain.   

Here wit (more fortunate) is joined with Art,  
And that most sacred Frenzy bears a part  
Infused by Nature in the Poet's heart.   

Here, may the Puny-wits themselves direct,  
Here, may the Wisest find what to affect;  
And Kings may learn their proper Dialect.   

On then, dear friend, Thy Pen thy Name shall spread;  
And shouldst thou write, while thou shalt not be read,  
Thy Muse must labour, when thy Hand is dead.   
W. B.   

THE DUKE OF Milan.  


Act. Prim. Scae. Pri.  Graccho, jovio, Giovanni, with Flagons. Gra. 
TAke every man his flagon: give the oath  
To all you meet: I am this day, the state drunkard,  
(I am sure against my will) And if you find  
A man at ten, that's sober, he's a Traitor,  
And in my name arrest him.  Io. 
Very good Sir:  
But say he be a Sexton?  Gra 
If the bells,  
Ring out of tune, as if the street were burning,  
And he cry 'tis rare Music: bid him sleep,  
'Tis a sign he has took his liquor; And if you meet  
An officer preaching of sobriety,  
Unless he read it in Geneva print,  
Lay him by the heels.  Io. 
But think you 'tis a fault  
To be found sober?  Gra. 
It is Capital Treason,  
Or if you Mitigate it, Let such pay  
forty Crowns to the poor; But give a pension  
To all the magistrates, you find singing catches,  
Or their Wives dancing; For the Courtiers reeling,  
And the Duke himself, (I dare not say distempered,  
But kind, and in his tottering chair carousing)  
They do the country service. If you meet,  
One that eats bread, a child of Ignorance,  
And bred up in the darkness of no drinking,  
In the true posture, though he die in the taking  
His drench, it skills not: What's a private man  
For the public honour? we have nought else to think on.  
And so dear friends, copartners in my travails  
Drink hard; and let the health run through the City,  
Until it reel again: and with me cry:  
Long live the Duchess.  Enter Tiberio Stephano. Io. 
Here are two Lords; what think you?  
Shall we give the oath to them?  Gra. 
Fie, no: I know them,  
You need not swear 'em; your Lord, by his patent  
Stands bound to take his rouse. Long line the Duchess.  Exit Gra. 10. Step. 
The cause of this. But yesterday the court,  
Wore the sad livery of distrust, and fear;  
No smile, not in a buffoon to be seen,  
Or common jester; The great Duke himself,  
Had sorrow in his face: which waited on  
By his mother, sister, and his fairest Duchess,  
Dispersed a silent mourning through all Milan:  
As if some great blow had been given the State,  
Or were at least expected.  Tib. 
Stephano,  
I know, as you are noble, you are honest,  
And capable of secrets, of more weight,  
Then now I shall deliver. If that Sforza,  
The present Duke, (though his whole life hath been,  
But one continued pilgrimage, through dangers,  
Affrights, and horrors: which, his Fortune, guided  
By his strong judgement, still hath overcome)  
Appears now shaken, it deserves no wonder.  
All that his youth hath laboured for: the harvest  
Sown by his industry, ready to be reaped, to,  
Being now at the stake; And all his hopes confirmed,  
Or lost for ever.  Step. 
I know no such hazard:  
The people well affected; And so wisely  
His provident care hath wrought: that though war rages  
In most parts of our western world, there is  
No enemy near us.  Tib. 
Dangers that we see  
To threaten ruin are with ease prevented:  
But those strike deadly, that come unexpected;  
The lightning is far off: yet soon as seen,  
We may behold the terrible effects,  
That it produceth. But I'll help your knowledge,  
And make his cause of fear familiar to you.  
The war so long continued between  
The Emperor Charles, and Francis the French King  
Have interested in either's cause, the most  
Of the Italian Princes: Among which Sforza,  
As one of greatest power, was sought by both,  
But with assurance having one his friend,  
The other lived his enemy.  Step. 
'tis true,  
And 'twas a doubtful choice.  Tib. 
But he, well knowing,  
And having too, (it seems) the Spanish pride,  
Lent his assistance to the King of France:  
Which hath so far incensed the Emperor,  
That all his hopes, and honours are embarked,  
With his great patron's Fortune.  Step. 
Which stands fair,  
For aught I yet can hear.  Tib. 
But should it change,  
The Duke's undone. They have drawn to the field  
Two royal armies, full of fiery youth,  
Of equal spirit to dare, and power to do:  
So near entrenched, that 'tis beyond all hope,  
Of humane council, they can e'er be severed,  
Until it be determined by the sword,  
Who hath the better cause. For the success,  
Concludes the victor innocent, and the vanquished  
Most miserably guilty. How uncertain,  
The Fortune of the war is, children know;  
And, it being in suspense, on whose fair Tent,  
Winged victory will make her glorious stand;  
You cannot blame the Duke, though he appear,  
Perplexed and troubled.  Step. 
But why then,  
In such a time when every knee should bend,  
For the success, and safety of his person,  
Are these loud triumphs? In my weak opinion,  
They are unseasonable.  Tib. 
I judge so too;  
But only in the cause to be excused.  
It is the Duchess Birthday: once a year  
Solemnised, with all pomp, and ceremony:  
In which, the Duke is not his own, but hers:  
Nay, every day indeed, he is her creature,  
For never man so doted; But to tell  
The tenth part of his fondness, to a stranger,  
Would argue me of fiction.  Step. 
She's indeed,  
A Lady of most exquisite form.  Tib. 
She knows it,  
And how to prize it.  Step. 
I ne'er heard her tainted,  
In any point of honour.  Tib. 
On my life,  
she's constant to his bed, and well deserves  
His largest Favours. But when beauty is  
Stamped on great women, great in birth, and fortune,  
And blown by flatterers greater than it is,  
'Tis seldom unaccompanied with pride;  
Nor is she, that-way free. Presuming on  
The Duke's affection, and her own Desert,  
She bears herself with such a Majesty,  
Looking with scorn on all, as things beneath her:  
That Sforza's mother, (that would lose no part  
Of what, was once her own): Nor his fair Sister,  
(A Lady too acquainted with her worth,  
Will brook it well; And howsoe'er, their hate,  
Is smothered for a time, 'tis more than feared,  
It will at length break out.  Step. 
He, in whose power 'tis,  
Turn all to the best.  Tib. 
Come, let us to the Court,  
We there shall see, all bravery, and cost,  
That art can boast of.  Exeunt. Step. 
I'll bear you company.  Enter Francisco, Isabella, Mariana, Ma. 
I will not go, I scorn to be a spot  
In her proud train.  Isa. 
Shall I, that am his mother,  
Be so indulgent, as to wait on her,  
That owes me duty?  Fra. 
'tis done to the Duke,  
And not to her. And my sweet wife remember,  
And Madam, if you please receive my council,  
As Sforza is your son, you may command him,  
And as a sister you may challenge from him,  
A brother's love, and Favour: But this granted,  
Consider he's the Prince, and you, his Subjects  
And not to question, or contend with her,  
Whom he is pleased to honour; Private men  
Prefer their wives: and shall he being a Prince,  
And blessed with one that is the Paradise  
Of sweetness, and of beauty, to whose charge,  
The stock of women's goodness is given up,  
Not use her, like herself?  Isa. 
You are ever forward,  
To sing her praises  Ma. 
Others are as fair,  
I am sure as noble.  Fra. 
I detract from none,  
In giving her, what's due. Were she deformed,  
Yet being the Duchess, I stand bound to serve her,  
But as she is, to admire her. Never wife,  
Met with a purer heat her husband's fervour;  
A happy pair, one in the other blessed:  
She confident in herself, he's wholly hers,  
And cannot seek for change: and he secure  
That 'tis not in the power of man to tempt her.  
And therefore, to contest with her that is  
The stronger, and the better part of him,  
Is more than folly; You know him of a nature,  
Not to be played with: and should you forget  
To obey him as your Prince, he'll not remember,  
The duty that he owes you.  Isa. 
'tis but truth:  
Come clear our brows, and let us to the banquet,  
But not to serve his Idol.  Ma. 
I shall do,  
What may become the sister of a Prince,  
But will not stoop, beneath it.  Fra. 
Yet be wise,  
Soar not too high to fall, but stoop to rise.  Exeunt. Enter three Gentlemen setting forth a banquet. 1. Ge. 
Quick quick for love's sake, let the court put  
Her choicest outside: Cost, and bravery on  
Be only thought of.  2. Gent. 
All that may be had  
To please the eye, the ear, taste, touch, or smell,  
Are carefully provided.  3. Gen. 
there's a Masque,  
Have you heard what's the invention?  1. Gent. 
No matter.  
It is intended for the Duchess honour.  
And if it give her glorious attributes,  
As the most fair most virtuous, and the rest,  
'Twill please the Duke. They come.  3. Gent. 
All is in order.  Enter Tiberio, Stephano, Francisco, Sforza, Marcellia, Isabella, Mariana, attendants Sfo. 
You are the Mistress of the feast, sit here;  
O my soul's comfort: And when Sforza bows  
Thus low to do you honour, let none think  
The meanest service they can pay my love,  
But as a fair addition to those titles,  
They stand possessed of. Let me glory in  
My happiness, and mighty Kings look pale  
With envy, while I triumph in mine own.  
O mother look on her, sister admire her:  
And since this present age yields not a woman  
Worthy to be her second, borrow of  
Times passed: and let imagination help  
Of those canonised Ladies Sparta boasts of,  
And, in her greatness, Rome was proud to owe  
To fashion: and yet still you must confess,  
The Phoenix of perfection ne'er was seen,  
But in my fair Marcelia.  Fra. 
She's indeed  
The wonder of all times.  Tib. 
Your excellence,  
(Though I confess you give her but her own)  
Enforces her modesty to the defence  
Of a sweet blush.  Sfo. 
It need not my Marcelia;  
When most I strive to praise thee, I appear  
A poor detractor: For thou art indeed  
So absolute in body, and in mind,  
That, but to speak the least part to the height,  
Would ask an angel's tongue: and yet then end  
In silent admiration!  Isab. 
You still court her,  
As if she were a Mistress, not your wife.  Sfo. 
A Mistress mother? she is more to me,  
And every day, deserves more to be sued too.  
Such as are cloyed with those they have embraced,  
May think their wooing done: No night to me,  
But is a bridal one, where Hymen lights  
His torches fresh, and new: And those delights,  
Which are not to be clothed in airy sounds,  
enjoyed, beget desires, as full of heat,  
And jovial fervour, as when first I tasted  
Her virgin fruit; Blessed night, and be it numbered  
Amongst those happy ones, in which a blessing  
Was by the full consent of all the Stars,  
Conferred upon mankind.  Marc. 
My worthiest Lord,  
The only object I behold with pleasure:  
My pride, my glory, in a word my all;  
Bear witness Heaven, that I esteem myself  
In nothing worthy of the meanest praise,  
You can bestow, unless it be in this,  
That in my heart I love, and honour you.  
And but that it would smell of arrogance,  
To speak my strong desire, and zeal to serve you  
I then could say, these eyes yet never saw  
The rising Sun, but that my vows, and prayers,  
Were sent to Heaven, for the prosperity  
And safety of my Lord; Nor have I ever  
Had other study, but how to appear  
Worthy your favour: and that my embraces,  
Might yield a fruitful Harvest of content,  
For all your noble travail, in the purchase,  
Of her, that's still your servant; By these lips,  
(Which pardon me, that I presume to kiss)  Sfo. 
O swear, for ever swear.  Marce. 
I ne'er will seek  
Delight, but in your pleasure: and desire,  
When you are seated with all Earthly glories,  
And age, and honours make you fit for Heaven,  
That one Grave may receive us,  Sf. 
'Tis believed,  
Believed, my blessed One.  Mari. 
How she winds herself  
Into his Soul!  Sf. 
Sit all: Let others feed  
On those gross Cates, while Sforza banquets with  
Immortal Viands, ta'en in at his Eyes.  
I could live ever thus. Command the Eunuch  
To sing the Ditty that I last composed,  
In praise of my Marcelia. From whence?  Ent. Post Post. 
From Pavie, my dread Lord.  Sf. 
Speak, is all lost?  Post. 
The Letter will inform you.  Fran. 
How his Hand shakes,  
As he receives it?  Mari. 
This is some allay  
To his hot passion.  Sf. 
Though it bring death, i'll read it.  
May it please your Excellence to understand, that the very hour I wrote this, I heard a bold defiance delivered by a Herald from the Emperor, which was cheerfully received by the King of France. The battles being ready to join, and the Vanguard committed to my charge, enforces me to end abruptly.  
Your highness' humble Servant, Gaspero.  
Ready to join, By this, than I am nothing,  
Or my Estate secure.  Marc. 
My Lord.  Sf. 
To doubt,  
Is worse than to have lost: And to despair,  
Is but to antedate those miseries,  
That must fall on us. All my hopes depending  
Upon this battles fortune; In my Soul  
methinks there should be that Imperious power,  
By supernatural, not usual means,  
T'inform me what I am. The cause considered,  
Why should I fear? The French are bold and strong,  
Their numbers full, and in their counsels wise:  
But then, the haughty Spaniard is all Fire,  
Hot in his executions; Fortunate  
In his attempts; Married to victory:  
ay, there it is that shakes me.  Franc. 
Excellent Lady:  
This day was dedicated to your Honour:  
One gale of your sweet breath will easily  
Disperse these Clouds: And, but yourself, there's none  
That dare speak to him.  Marc. 
I will run the hazard.  
My Lord?  Sf. 
Ha: Pardon me Marcelia, I am troubled;  
And stand uncertain, whether I am Master  
Of aught that's worth the owning.  Marc. 
I am yours Sir;  
And I have heard you swear, I being safe,  
There was no loss could move you. This day Sir,  
Is by your gift made mine: Can you revoke  
A Grant made to Marcelia? Your Marcelia?  
For whose love, nay, whose honour (gentle Sir)  
All deep designs, and State affairs deserved:  
Be, as you purposed, merry.  Sf. 
Out of my sight,  
And all thoughts that may strangle mirth forsake me.  
Fall what can fall, I dare the worst of Fate;  
Though the Foundation of the Earth should shrink,  
The glorious Eye of Heaven lose his Splendour:  
Supported thus, I'll stand upon the ruins,  
And seek for new life here. Why are you sad?  
No other sports? By Heaven he's not my friend,  
That wears one Furrow in his Face. I was told  
There was a Masque.  Franc. 
They wait your highness' pleasure,  
And when you please to have it.  Sf. 
Bid'em enter:  
Come, make me happy once again. I am rapt,  
'Tis not today, tomorrow, or the next,  
But all my days, and years shall be employed  
To do thee honour.  Marc. 
And my life to serve you.  
A Horn.  Franc. 
Another Post? Go hang him, hang him I say,  
I will not interrupt my present pleasures,  
Although his message should import my Head:  
Hang him I say.  Marc. 
Nay, good Sir, I am pleased,  
To grant a little intermission to you;  
Who knows, but he brings news, we wish to hear,  
To heighten our delights.  Sf. 
As wise as fair.  
From Gaspero?  Ent. another Post. Post. 
That was, my Lord.  Sf. 
How, dead?  Post. 
With the delivery of this, and prayers,  
To guard your Excellency from certain dangers.  
He ceased to be a Man.  Sf. 
All that my fears  
Could fashion to me or my enemy's wish  
Is fall'n upon me. Silence, that harsh music,  
'Tis now unseasonable; A tolling Bell,  
As a sad Harbinger to tell me, that,  
This pampered lump of Flesh, must feast the Worms.  
'Tis fitter for me, I am sick.  Marc. 
My Lord.  Sf. 
Sick to the death, Marcelia, Remove  
These signs of mirth, they were ominous, and but ushered  
Sorrow and ruin.  Marc. 
Bless us Heaven!  Isab. 
My Son.  Marc. 
What sudden change is this?  Sf. 
All leave the room;  
I'll bear alone the burden of my grief,  
And must admit no partner. I am yet  
Your Prince, where's your obedience? Stay Marcelia  
I cannot be so greedy of a sorrow,  
In which you must not share.  Marc. 
And cheerfully,  
I will sustain my part. Why look you pale?  
Where is that wonted constancy, and courage,  
That dared the worst of Fortune? Where is Sforza?  
To whom all dangers that fright common men,  
Appeared but panic terrors? Why do you eye me  
With such fixed looks? Love, counsel, duty, service,  
May flow from me, not danger.  Sf. 
O Marcelia!  
It is for thee I fear: For thee, thy Sforza  
Shakes like a coward; For myself, unmoved:  
I could have heard my troops were cut in pieces,  
My General slain; And he; on whom my hopes  
Of Rule, of State, of Life, had their dependence;  
The King of France, my greatest friend, made prisoner  
To so proud enemies.  Marc. 
Then you have just cause  
To show you are a Man.  Sf. 
All this were nothing,  
Though I add to it, that I am assured  
For giving aid to this unfortunate King,  
The Emperor incensed, lays his command  
On his victorious Army, fleshed with spoil,  
And bold of conquest, to march up against me,  
And seize on my Estates: Suppose that done too,  
The City ta'en, the Kennels running blood,  
The ransacked Temples, falling on their Saints:  
My Mother in my sight, tossed on their Pikes,  
And Sister ravished: And myself bound fast  
In Chains, to grace their Triumph: Or what else,  
An enemy's insolence could load me with,  
I would be Sforza still; But when I think,  
That my Marcelia (to whom, all these  
Are but as atoms to the greatest Hill)  
Must suffer in my cause: And for me suffer  
All Earthly torments; Nay, even those the damned  
howl for in Hell, are gentle strokes, compared  
To what I feel Marcelia.  Marc. 
Good Sir, have patience:  
I can as well partake your adverse fortune,  
As I thus long have had an ample share,  
In your prosperity. 'tis not in the power  
Of Fate to alter me: For while I am,  
In spite of't, I am yours.  Sf. 
But should that will  
To be so forced Marcelia? And I live  
To see those Eyes I prize above mine own,  
Dart favours (though compelled) upon another?  
Or those sweet Lips (yielding Immortal Nectar)  
Be gently touched by any but myself?  
Think, think Marcelia, what a cursed thing  
I were, beyond expression.  Marc. 
Do not feed  
Those jealous thoughts; The only blessing that  
Heaven hath bestowed on us, more than on beasts,  
Is, that 'tis in our pleasure when to die.  
Besides, were I now in another's power,  
There are so many ways to let out life,  
I would not live, for one short minute his;  
I was borne only yours, and I will die so.  Sf 
Angels reward the goodness of this Woman:  
All I can pay is nothing. Why uncalled for?)  Ent. Francis. Franc. 
It is of weight, Sir, that makes me thus press  
Upon your privacies. Your constant friend  
The marquis of Pescara, tired with haste,  
Ha h business that concerns your life and fortunes,  
And with speed to impart.  Ex. Franc. Sf. 
Wait on him hither;  
And dearest to thy Closet: Let thy prayers  
Assist my counsels.  Marc. 
To spare imprecations  
Against myself; without you I am nothing.  Ex. Marc. Sf. 
The marquis of Pescara; A great Soldier:  
And though he served upon the adverse party,  
Ever my constant friend.  Enter Francisco, Pescara. Franc. 
Yonder he walks,  
Full of sad thoughts.  Pesc. 
Blame him not good Francisco,  
He hath much cause to grieve: Would I might end so,  
And not add this, to fear.  Sf. 
My dear Pescara:  
A miracle in these times, a friend and happy,  
Cleaves to a falling fortune.  Pesc. 
If it were  
As well in my weak power, in act to raise it,  
As 'tis to bear a part of sorrow with you;  
You then should have just cause to say, Pescara  
Looked not upon your State, but on your Virtues,  
When he made suit to be writ in the List  
Of those you favoured. But my haste forbids  
All compliment. Thus then, Sir, to the purpose.  
The cause that unattended brought me hither,  
Was not to tell you of your loss, or danger;  
For Fame hath many Wings to bring ill tidings,  
And I presume you have heard it: But to give you such,  
Such friendly counsel, as perhaps may make  
Your sad disaster, less.  Sf 
You are all goodness,  
And I give up my self to be disposed of,  
As in your wisdom you think fit.  Pesc. 
Thus then, Sir.  
To hope you can hold out against the Emperor,  
Were flattery in yourself, to your undoing;  
Therefore, the safest course that you can take,  
Is, to give up yourself to his discretion,  
Before you be compelled. For rest assured,  
A voluntary yielding may find grace,  
And will admit defence, at least excuse:  
But should you linger doubtful, till his Powers  
Have seized your Person, and Estates perforce,  
You must expect extremes.  Sf. 
I understand you,  
And I will put your counsel into act,  
And speedily; I only will take order  
For some Domestical affairs, that do  
Concern me nearly, and with the next Sun  
Ride with you; In the mean time, my best friend,  
Pray take your rest.  Pesc. 
Indeed, I have travailed hard,  
And will embrace your counsel.  Ex. Pescara. Sf. 
With all care,  
Attend my Noble friend. Stay you, Francisco,  
You see how things stand with me?  Franc. 
To my grief:  
And if the loss of my poor life could be  
A Sacrifice, to restore them, as they were,  
I willingly would lay it down.  Sf. 
I think so:  
For I have euer found you true, and thankful,  
Which makes me love the building I have raised,  
In your advancement: And repent no grace,  
I have conferred upon you: And believe me,  
Though now I should repeat my favours to you,  
The Titles I have given you, and the means  
Suitable to your Honours, that I thought you  
Worthy my Sister, and my Family,  
And in my Dukedom made you next myself:  
It is not to upbraid you: But to tell you  
I find you are worthy of them in your love,  
And service to me.  Franc. 
Sir, I am your Creature:  
And any shape, that you would have me wear,  
I gladly will put on.  Sf. 
Thus, than Francisco;  
I now am to deliver to your trust,  
A weighty secret: Of so strange a nature,  
And 'twill I know appear so monstrous to you,  
That you will tremble in the execution,  
As much as I am tortured, to command it:  
For 'tis a deed so horrid, that but to hear it,  
Would strike into a Russian fleshed in murders,  
Or an obdurate Hangman, soft compassion;  
And yet Francisco (of all Men the dearest,  
And from me most deserving) such my state,  
And strange condition is, that thou alone,  
Must know the fatal service, and perform it.  Franc. 
These preparations, Sir, to work a stranger,  
Or to one, unacquainted with your bounties,  
Might appear useful: But to me, they are  
Needless impertinences: For, I dare doc,  
whate'er you dare command.  Sf. 
But thou must swear it,  
And put into thy Oath, all joys, or torments  
That fright the wicked, or confirm the good:  
Not to conceal it only, that is nothing;  
But whensoe'er my will shall speak, strike now:  
To fall upon't like Thunder.  Franc. 
Minister  
The Oath, in any way, or form you please,  
I stand resolved to take it.  Sf. 
Thou must do then,  
What no malevolent Star will dare to look on,  
It is so wicked: For which, Men will curse thee,  
For being the Instrument: And the blessed Angels,  
Forsake me at my need, for being the Author:  
For 'tis a deed of Night, of Night Francisco,  
In which the memory of all good Actions,  
We can pretend too, shall be buried quick;  
Or if we be remembered, it shall be  
To fright posterity, by our example:  
That have outgone all precedents of Villains,  
That were before us: And such as succeed,  
Though taught in hell's black school, shall ne'er come near us.  
Art thou not shaken yet?  Franc. 
I grant you move me:  
But to a Man confirmed;  Sf. 
He try your temper:  
What think you of my Wife?  Franc. 
As a thing Sacred:  
To whose fair Name, and memory, I pay gladly  
These signs of duty.  Sf. 
Is the not the abstract  
Of all that's rare, or to be wished in Woman?  Franc. 
It were a kind of blasphemy to dispute it:  
But to the purpose Sir.  Sf. 
Add to her goodness,  
Her tenderness of me, Her care to please me,  
Her unsuspected chastity, ne'er equalled:  
Her Innocence, her honour: O I am lost  
In the Ocean of her virtues, and her graces,  
When I think of them.  Fran. 
Now I find the end  
Of all your conjurations: there's some service  
To be done for this sweet Lady; If she have enemies  
That she would have removed?  Sf. 
Alas Francisco,  
Her greatest enemy is her greatest lover,  
Yet in that hatred, her Idolater.  
One smile of hers would make a savage tame;  
One accent of that tongue would calm the Seas,  
Though all the winds at once strove there for Empire.  
Yet I, for whom she thinks all this too little,  
Should I miscarry in this present journey,  
(From whence it is all number to a cipher,  
I ne'er return with honour) by thy hand  
Must have her murdered.  Fra. 
Murdered? She that loves so,  
And so deserves to be beloved again?  
And I, (who sometimes you were pleased to favour)  
Picked out the instrument?  Sf. 
Do not fly off:  
What is decreed, can never be recalled;  
'Tis more than love to her, that marks her out,  
A wished companion to me, in both fortunes:  
And strong assurance of thy zealous faith,  
That gives up to thy trust a secret, that  
Racks should not have forced from me. O Francisco:  
There is no heaven without her: nor a hell,  
Where she resides. I ask from her but justice,  
And what I would have paid to her: had sickness,  
Or any other accident divorced,  
Her purer soul, from his unspotted body.  
The slavish Indian Princes when they die  
Are cheerfully attended to the fire,  
By the wife, and slave, that living they loved best,  
To do them service in another world:  
Nor will I be less honoured, that love more.  
And therefore trifle not, but in thy looks,  
Express a ready purpose to perform,  
What I command, or by Marcelia's soul,  
This is thy latest minute.  Fran. 
'Tis not fear  
Of death, but love to you, makes me embrace it;  
But for mine own security when 'tis done,  
What warrant have I? If you please to sign one,  
I shall, though with unwillingness and horror,  
Perform your dreadful charge.  Sf. 
I will Francisco;  
But still remember, that a PRINCE's secrets  
Are balm, concealed: but poison, if discovered.  
I may come back; then this is but a trial,  
To purchase thee, if it were possible,  
A nearer place in my affection; but  
I know thee honest.  Fran. 
'Tis a Character  
I will not part with.  Sf. 
I may live to reward it.  Exeunt.   


Actus Secun. Scae. Prima.  Tiberio, Stephano. Ste. 
How? left the Court?  Tib. 
Without guard or retinue  
Fitting a Prince.  Ste. 
No enemy near, to force him?  
To leave his own strengths, yet deliver up  
Himself, as 'twere in bonds to the discretion  
Of him that hates him? 'Tis beyond example:  
You never heard the motives that induced him,  
To this strange course?  Tib. 
No, those are Cabinet counsels,  
And not to be communicated, but  
To such as are his own, and sure; Alas,  
We fill up empty places, and in public,  
Are taught to give our suffrages to that,  
Which was before determined: And are safe so;  
signior Francisco (upon whom alone  
His absolute power is with all strength conferred,  
During his absence) can with ease resolve you.  
To me, they are Riddles.  Steph. 
Well, he shall not be,  
My Oedipus, I'll rather dwell in darkness.  
But my good Lord Tiberio, This Francisco,  
Is, on the sudden, strangely raised.  Tib. 
O Sir,  
He took the thriving course: He had a Sister,  
A fair one too; With whom (as it is rumoured;  
The Duke was too familiar; But she cast off,  
(What promises soever passed between them)  
Upon the sight of this, forsook the Court,  
And since was never seen; To smother this,  
(As Honours never fail to purchase silence)  
Francisco first was graced, and step by step,  
Is raised up to this height.  Steph. 
But how is his absence borne?  Tib. 
Sadly, it seems  
By the Duchess: For since he left the Court,  
For the most part, she hath kept her private Chamber,  
No visitants admitted; In the Church,  
She hath been seen to pay her pure devotions,  
Seasoned with tears: And sure her sorrow's true,  
Or deeply counterfeited; Pomp, and State,  
And bravery cast off: And she that lately  
rivaled Poppaea in her varied shapes,  
Or the Egyptian Queen: Now, widow-like,  
In Sable colours (as, her husband's dangers,  
Strangled in her, the use of any pleasure)  
Mourns for his absence.  Steph. 
It becomes her Virtue,  
And does confirm, what was reported of her.  Tib. 
You take it right; But on the other side,  
The darling of his Mother, Mariana,  
As there were an Antipathy, between  
Her, and the Duchess passions: And as  
she'd no dependence on her brother's fortune,  
She ne'er appeared so full of mirth.  Steph. 
'Tis strange.  
But see, her favourite: & accompanied,  
To your report.  Ent. Graccho with fiddlers Grac. 
You shall scrape, and I'll sing,  
A scurvy Ditty, to a scurvy tune,  
Repine who dares.  Fidl 
But if we should offend,  
The Duchess having silenced us: & these Lords,  
Stand by to hear us.  Grac. 
They, in Name are Lords,  
But I am one in Power: And for the Duchess,  
But yesterday we were merry for her pleasure,  
We now'll be for my Ladies.  Tib. 
signior Graccho.  Gr. 
A poor Man, Sir, a Servant to the Princes:  
But you, great Lords, and Councillors of State,  
Whom I stand bound to reverence.  Tib. 
Come, we know  
You are a Man in grace.  Grac. 
Fie, no: I grant,  
I bear my fortunes patiently: Serve the Princess,  
And have success at all times to her closet,  
Such is my impudence: when your grave Lordships  
Are masters of the modesty, to attend  
Three hours, nay sometimes four; and then bid wait  
Upon her the next morning.  Ste. 
He derides us.  Tib. 
Pray you, what news is stirring? you know all.  Grac. 
Who, I? alas, I have no intelligence  
At home, nor abroad: I only sometimes guess  
The change of the times; I should ask of your Lordships  
Who are to keep their Honours, who to lose 'em;  
Who the Duchess smiled on last, or on whom frowned,  
You only can resolve me: we poor waiters  
Deal (as you see) in mirth, and foolish fiddles:  
It is our element; and could you tell me,  
What point of State 'tis, that I am commanded  
To muster up this music: on mine honesty,  
You should much befriend me.  Ste. 
Sirrah, you grow saucy.  Tib. 
And would be laid by the heels.  Grac. 
Not by your Lordships,  
Without a special warrant; look to your own stakes;  
Were I committed, here come those would bail me:  
Perhaps we might change places too.  Ent. Isabella, Mariana. Tib. 
The Princess;  
We must be patient.  Ste. 
There's no contending.  Tib. 
See, the informing rogue.  Ste. 
That we should stoop  
To such a Mushroom.  Mari. 
Thou dost mistake; they durst not  
Use the least word of scorn, although provoked,  
To any thing of mine. Go, get you home,  
And to your servants, friends, and flatterers, number  
How many descents you are noble; Look to your wives too,  
The smooth-chinned Courtiers are abroad.  Ex. Tib. Steph. Tib. 
No way, to be a Freeman?  Grac. 
Your Excellence, hath the best gift to dispatch,  
These Arras pictures of Nobility,  
I ever read of.  Mari. 
I can speak sometimes.  Grac. 
And cover so your bitter Pills, with sweetness  
Of Princely language to forbid reply,  
They are greedily swallowed.  Isab. 
But, the purpose Daughter,  
That brings us hither? Is it to bestow  
A visit on this Woman? That, because  
She only would be thought truly to grieve,  
The absence, and the dangers of my Son,  
Proclaims a general sadness?  Mari. 
If to vex her,  
May be interpreted to do her Honour,  
She shall have many of 'em? I'll make use  
Of my short Reign: my Lord, now governs all:  
And she shall know, that her Idolater,  
My Brother, being not by, now to protect her,  
I am her equal.  Grac. 
Of a little thing,  
It is so full of Gall: A Devil of this size,  
Should they run for a wager to be spiteful,  
Gets not a Horsehead of her.  Mari. 
On her Birthday,  
We were forced to be merry: & now she's musty  
We must be sad, on pain of her displeasure;  
We will, we will. This is her private Chamber,  
Where like an Hypocrite, not a true Turtle,  
She seems to mourn her absent Mate, her Servants  
Attending her like Mutes: But I'll speak to her  
And in a high Key too, play any thing  
That's light and loud enough but to torment her,  
And we will have rare sport.  
Song. Marcelia above in black.  Isab. 
She frowns, as if  
Her looks could fright us.  Mari. 
May it please your greatness,  
We heard that your late Physic hath not worked,  
And that breed, Melancholy, as your Doctor tells us:  
To purge which, we that are born your highness' Vassals,  
And are to play the fools to do you service,  
Present you with a fit of mirth: what think you  
Of a new Antic?  Isab. 
I would show rare in Ladies.  Mari. 
Being intended for so sweet a creature,  
Were she but pleased to grace it.  Isab. 
ay, she will,  
Be it ne'er so mean: she's made of courtesy.  Mari. 
The Mistress of all hearts; one smile I pray you  
On your poor servants, or a fiddler's fee:  
Coming from those fair hands, though but a Ducat,  
We will enshrine it as a holy relic.  Isab. 
'Tis, Wormwood, and it works.  Marc. 
If I lay by  
My fears, and griefs (in which you should be sharers)  
If doting age could let you but remember,  
You have a son; or frontless impudence,  
You are a sister; and in making answer,  
To what was most unfit for you to speak,  
Or me to hear: borrow of my just anger.  Isab. 
A set speech on my life.  Mari. 
Penned by her Chaplain.  Marce. 
Yes, it can speak, without instruction speak;  
And tell your want of manners, that you're rude,  
And saucily rude, too.  Grac. 
Now the game begins.  Marce. 
You durst not else on any hire or hope,  
(Remembering what I am, and whose I am)  
Put on the desperate boldness, to disturb  
The least of my retirements.  Mari. 
Note her now.  Marc. 
For both shall understand; though th'one presume  
Upon the privilege due to a Mother,  
The Duke stands now on his own legs, and needs  
No nurse to lead him.  Isab. 
How, a Nurse?  Marce. 
A dry one,  
And useless too: But I am merciful,  
And dotage signs your pardon.  Isab. 
I defy thee,  
Thee, and thy pardons, proud one.  Marc. 
For you, Puppet.  Mari. 
What, of me? Pinetree.  Marc. 
Little you are, I grant,  
And have as little worth, but much less wit,  
You durst not else, the Duke being wholly mine,  
His power and honour mine, and the allegiance,  
You owe him, as a Subject, due to me.  Mari. 
To you?  Marc. 
To me: And therefore as a Vassal,  
From this hour learn to serve me, or, you'll feel,  
I must make use of my authority,  
And as a Princess punish it.  Isab. 
A Princess?  Mari. 
I had rather be a Slave unto a moor,  
Than know thee for my equal.  Isab. 
Scornful thing,  
Proud of a white Face.  Mari. 
Let her but remember  
The Issue in her Leg:  Isab. 
The charge, she puts  
The State too, for Perfumes.  Mari. 
And, howsoe'er,  
She seems, when she's made up: As she's herself,  
She stinks above ground. O that I could reach you,  
The little one you scorn so, with her nails,  
Would tear your painted Face, & scratch those Eyes out.  
Do but come down.  Marc. 
Were there no other way,  
But leaping on thy Neck, to break mine own,  
Rather than be outbraved thus.  Grac. 
forty ducats  
Upon the little Hen: She's of the kind,  
And will not leave the Pit.  Mari. 
That it were lawful  
To me te her with a poniard, and a Pistol;  
But these weak hands shall show my spleen  Ent. Marc. below Marc. 
Where are you? You Modicum, you Dwarf.  Ent. Francisco. Tib. Steph. Mari. 
Here, Giantess, here.  Franc. 
A tumult in the Court?  Mari. 
Let her come on.  Franc. 
What wind hath raised this tempest?  
sever'em, I command you. What's the cause?  
Speak Martana.  Mari. 
I am out of breath;  
But we shall meet, we shall. And do you hear, Sir,  
Or right me on this Monster (she's three foot  
Too high for a Woman) or ne'er look to have,  
A quiet hour with me.  Isab. 
If my Son were here,  
And would endure this; May a Mother's curse  
Pursue, and overtake him.  Franc. 
O forbear,  
In me he's present, both in power, and will;  
And Madam, I much grieve, that in his absence,  
There should arise the least distaste to move you:  
It being his principal, nay only charge,  
To have you in his absence served, and honoured,  
As when himself performed the willing Office.  Mari. 
This is fine, i'faith.  Grac. 
I would I were well off.  Franc. 
And therefore, I beseech you Madam, frown not  
(Till most unwittingly he hath deserved it)  
On your poor Servant; To your Excellence,  
I ever was, and will be such: And lay,  
The Duke's authority, trusted to me,  
With willingness at your feet.  Mari. 
O base.  Isab. 
We are like  
To have an equal judge.  Franc. 
But should I find  
That you are touched in any point of Honour,  
Or that the least neglect is fall'n upon you,  
I then stand up a Prince.  Fidl. 
Without reward,  
Pray you dismiss us.  Grac. 
Would I were five Leagues hence.  Franc. 
I will be partial to none, not to myself,  
Be you but pleased to show me my offence,  
Or if you hold me in your good opinion,  
Name those that have offended you.  Isab. 
I am one,  
And I will justify it.  Mari. 
Thou art a base Fellow,  
To take her part.  Franc. 
Remember, she's the Duchess.  Marc. 
But used with more contempt, than if I were  
A peasant's Daughter: Baited, and hooted at  
Like to a common Strumpet: With loud noises,  
Forc'd from my prayers: And my private Chamber  
(Which with all willingness I would make my Prison  
During the absence of my Lord) denied me.  
But if he e'er return.  Franc. 
Were you an Actor,  
In this lewd Comedy?  Mari. 
I marry was I,  
And will be one again.  Isab. 
I'll join with her,  
Though you repine at it.  Franc. 
Think not then, I speak  
(For I stand bound to honour, and to serve you).  
But that the Duke, that lives in this great Lady,  
For the contempt of him, in her, commands you  
To be close Prisoners.  Isab. and Mari. 
Prisoners?  Franc. 
Bear them hence.  
This is your charge my Lord Tiberio.  
And Stephano, this is yours.  Marce. 
I am not cruel,  
But pleased they may have liberty.  Isab. 
Pleased, with a mischief.  Mari. 
I'll rather live in any loathsome Dungeon,  
Than in a Paradise, at her entreaty:  
And, for you upstart.  Steph. 
There is no contending.  Tib. 
What shall become of these?  Franc. 
See them well whipped,  
As you will answer it.  Tib. 
Now signior Graccho,  
What think you of your greatness?  Grac. 
I preach patience,  
And must endure my fortune.  Exe. omnes, preter. Fra. & Marcel. Fidl. 
I was never yet  
At such a hunts-up, nor was so rewarded.  Fr. 
Let them first know themselves, & how you are  
To be served, and honoured: Which, when they confess,  
You may again receive them to your favour:  
And then it will show nobly.  Marce. 
With my thanks,  
The Duke shall pay you his, If he return  
To bless us with his presence.  Franc. 
There is nothing  
That can be added to your fair acceptance:  
That is the prize, indeed: All else, are blanks,  
And of no value. As in virtuous actions,  
The undertaker finds a full reward,  
Although conferred upon unthankful Men;  
So, any service done to so much sweetness,  
(However dangerous, and subject to  
An ill construction) in your favour finds  
A wished, and glorious end.  Marce. 
From you, I take this  
As loyal duty, but in any other,  
It would appear gross flattery.  Franc. 
Flattery, Madam?  
You are so rare, and excellent in all things,  
And raised so high upon a Rock of goodness,  
As that vice cannot reach you: who, but looks on  
This Temple built by Nature to Perfection,  
But must bow to it: and out of that zeal,  
Not only learn to adore it, but to love it.  Marce. 
Whither will this fellow?  Franc. 
Pardon therefore Madam,  
If an excess in me of humble duty,  
Teach me to hope (and though it be not in  
The power of Man to merit such a blessing)  
My piety (for it is more than love)  
May find reward.  Marce. 
You have it in my thanks:  
And on my hand, I am pleased, that you shall take  
A full possession of it. But take heed,  
That you fix here, and feed no hope beyond it;  
If you do, 'twill prove fatal.  Franc. 
Be it death,  
And death with torments, Tyrants never found out:  
Yet I must say I love you.  Marce. 
As a Subject,  
And 'twill become you.  Franc. 
Farewell circumstance:  
And since you are not pleased to understand me,  
But by a plain, and usual form of speech:  
All superstitious reverence laid by,  
I love you as a Man, and as a Man  
I would enjoy you. Why do you start, and fly me?  
I am no Monster, and you but a Woman:  
A Woman made to yield, and by example  
Told it is lawful; Favours of this nature,  
Are, in our age, no miracles in the greatest:  
And therefore Lady—  Marce. 
Keep of. O you Powers!  
Libidinous Beast, and add to that unthankful  
(A crime, which Creatures wanting reason, fly from)  
Are all the Princely bounties, favours, honours,  
Which (with some prejudice to his own wisdom)  
Thy Lord, and raiser hath conferred upon thee,  
In three days' absence buried? Hath he made thee  
(A thing obscure, almost without a name)  
The envy of great Fortunes? Have I graced thee,  
Beyond thy rank? And entertained thee, as  
A Friend, and not a Servant? And is this,  
This impudent attempt to taint mine Honour,  
The fair return of both our ventured favours?  Franc. 
Hear my excuse.  Marce. 
The Devil may plead mercy,  
And with as much assurance, as thou yield one.  
burns Lust so hot in thee? Or, is thy pride  
Grown up to such a height, that, but a Princess,  
No Woman can content thee? And add to that,  
His Wife, and Princess, to whom thou art tied  
In all the bonds of Duty? read my life,  
And find one act of mine so loosely carried,  
That could invite a most self-loving-fool,  
Set of, with all that fortune could throw on him,  
To the least hope to find way to my favour:  
And (what's the worst mine enemies could wish me)  
I'll be thy Strumpet.  Franc. 
'Tis acknowledged Madam,  
That your whole course of life hath been a pattern  
For chaste, and virtuous Women; In your beauty  
(Which I first saw, and loved) as a fair Crystal,  
I read your heavenly mind, clear and untainted;  
And while the Duke did prize you to your value  
(Could it have been in Man to pay that duty)  
I well might envy him, but durst not hope  
To stop you, in your full career of goodness:  
But now I find, that he's fall'n from his fortune,  
And (howsoever he would appear doting)  
Grown cold in his affection: I presume,  
From his most barbarous neglect of you,  
To offer my true service: Nor stand I bound,  
To look back on the courtesies of him,  
That, of all living Men, is most unthankful,  Marce. 
Unheard-of impudence!  Franc. 
You'll say I am modest,  
When I have told the story. Can he tax me  
(That have received some worldly trifles from him)  
For being ingrateful? When, he that first tasted,  
And hath so long enjoyed your sweet embraces  
(In which, all blessings that our frail condition  
Is capable of, is wholly comprehended)  
As cloyed with happiness, contemns the giver  
Of his felicity? And, as he reached not,  
The masterpiece of mischief, which he aims at,  
Unless he pay those favours he stands bound to,  
With fell and deadly hate? You think he loves you,  
With unexampled fervour: Nay, dotes on you,  
As there were something in you more than Woman:  
When on my knowledge, he long since hath wished,  
You were among the dead: And I, you scorn so,  
Perhaps, am your preserver.  Marce. 
Bless me good Angels,  
Or I am blasted. Lies so false, and wicked,  
And fashioned to so damnable a purpose,  
Cannot be spoken by a humane tongue.  
My Husband, hate me? Give thyself the Lie,  
False, and accursed; Thy Soul (if thou hast any)  
Can witness, never Lady stood so bound,  
To the unfeigned affection of her Lord,  
As I do, to my Sforza. If thou wouldst work  
Upon my weak credulity, Tell me rather,  
That the Earth moves; The Sun, and Stars, stand still;  
The Ocean keeps nor Floods, nor Ebbs; Or that,  
there's peace between the Lion, and the Lamb;  
Or that, the ravenous Eagle, and the Dove,  
Keep in one eyrie, and bring up their young:  
Or any thing that is averse to Nature:  
And I will sooner credit it, than that  
My Lord can think of me, but as a jewel,  
He loves more than himself, and all the World.  Franc. 
O Innocence, abused! Simplicity cozened!  
It were a sin, for which we have no name,  
To keep you longer in this wilful error.  
read his affection here; And then observe  
How dear he holds you; 'Tis his Character,  
Which cunning yet, could never counterfeit.  Marce. 
'Tis his hand, I am resolved of't.  
I'll try what the Inscription is.  Fran. 
Pray you do so.  Marc. 
You know my pleasure, & the hour of Marcelia's death, which fail not to execute, as you will answer the contrary, not with your Head alone, but with the ruin of your whole Family. And this written with mine own Hand, and Signed with my privy Signet, shall be your sufficient Warrant. Ludovico Sforza.  
I do obey it, every word's a poniard,  
And reaches to my Heart.  
She swoons.  Fran. 
What have I done?  
Madam, for heaven's sake, Madam. O my Fate!  
I'll bend her body: This is yet some pleasure,  
I'll kiss her into a new life. Dear Lady:  
She stirs: For the Duke's sake for Sforza's sake.  Marc. 
Sforza's? Stand off: Though dead, I will be his,  
And even my Ashes shall abhor the touch  
Of any other. O unkind, and cruel.  
Learn Women, learn to trust in one another;  
There is no faith in Man: Sforza is false,  
False to Marcelia.  Franc. 
But I am true,  
And live to make you happy. All the Pomp,  
State, and observance you had being his,  
Compared to what you shall enjoy when mine,  
Shall be no more remembered. Loose his memory,  
And look with cheerful beams on your new Creature  
And know what he hath plotted for you good,  
Fate cannot alter. If the Emperor,  
Take not his life, at his return he dies,  
And by my Hand: My Wife, that is his Heir,  
Shall quickly follow; Then we Reign alone,  
For with this Arm I'll swim through Seas of blood,  
Or make a Bridge, arched with the bones of Men,  
But I will grasp my aims in you my dearest,  
Dearest, and best of Women.  Marc. 
Thou art a Villain?  
All attributes of arch-villains made into one,  
Cannot express thee. I prefer the hate  
Of Sforza, though it mark me for the Grave,  
Before thy base affection. I am yet  
Pure, and unspotted, in my true love to him;  
Nor shall it be corrupted, though he's tainted;  
Nor will I part with Innocence, because  
He is found guilty. For thyself, thou art  
A thing, that equal with the Devil himself,  
I do detest, and scorn.  Franc. 
Thou then art nothing:  
Thy life is in my power, disdainful Woman:  
Think on't, and tremble.  Marc. 
No, though thou wert now  
To play thy hangman's part. Thou well may'st be  
My Executioner, and art only fit  
For such employment; But ne'er hope to have,  
The least grace from me. I will never see thee,  
But as the shame of Men: So, with my curses  
Of horror to thy Conscience in this life;  
And pains in Hell hereafter: I spit at thee,  
And making haste to make my peace with heaven,  
Expect thee as my Hangman.  Ex. Marc. Franc. 
I am lost,  
In the discovery of this fatal secret.  
Cursed hope that flattered me, that wrongs could make her  
A stranger to her goodness; All my plots  
Turn back upon my self; But I am in,  
And must go on: And since I have put off  
From the Shore of Innocence, guilt be now my Pilot.  
Revenge first wrought me, murder's his Twin-brother,  
One deadly sin then help to cure another.    


Actus Terc. Scae. Prima.  Enter Medina, Hernando, Alphonso. Med. 
The spoil, the spoil, 'tis that the soldier fights for;  
Our victory as yet affords us nothing,  
But wounds, and empty honour. We have passed  
The hazard of a dreadful day, and forced  
A passage with our Swords, through all the dangers,  
That Page like wait on the success of war;  
And now expect reward.  Hern. 
Hell put it in  
The enemy's mind to be desperate, and hold out:  
Yieldings, and compositions will undo us;  
And what is that way given, for the most part,  
Comes to the emperor's Coffers, to defray  
The charge of the great action (as 'tis rumoured)  
When usually, some Thing in Grace (that ne'er heard  
The Canons roaring tongue, but at a Triumph)  
Puts in, and for his intercession shares,  
All that we fought for: The poor Soldier left  
To starve, or fill up Hospitals.  Alph. 
But when  
We enter Towns by force, and carve ourselves,  
Pleasure with pillage, and the richest Wines,  
Open our shrunk-up veins, and pour into 'em  
New blood, and fervour.  Med. 
I long to be at it;  
To see these Chuffs, that every day may spend  
A soldier's entertainment for a year,  
Yet make a third meal of a bunch of raisins;  
These Sponges, that suck up a Kingdoms sat  
(battening like scarabs in the nung of Peace)  
To be squeezed out by the rough hand of war;  
And all that their whole lives have heaped together,  
By cozenage, perjury, or sordid thrift,  
With one gripe to be ravished.  Her. 
I would be tousing  
Their fair madonna's, that in little Dogs,  
monkeys, and paraquitoes consume thousands;  
Yet for the advancement of a noble action,  
Repine to part with a poor Piece of Eight:  
Wars plagues upon'em: I have seen'em stop  
Their scornful noses first, then seem to swoon  
At sight of a buff jerkin; if it were not  
Perfumed, and hid with Gold; Yet these nice wantons,  
(Spurred on by Lust, covered in some disguise,  
To meet some rough Court Stallion, and be leapt)  
Durst enter into any common Brothel,  
Though all varieties of stink contend there;  
Yet praise the entertainment.  Med. 
I may live,  
To see the tatteredst Rascals of my troop,  
Drag'em out of their Closets, with a vengeance:  
When neither threatning, flattering, kneeling, howling,  
Can ransom one poor jewel, or redeem  
Themselves, from their blunt wooing.  Her. 
My main hope is,  
To begin the sport at Milan: there's enough,  
And of all kinds of pleasure we can wish for,  
To satisfy the most covetous.  Alph. 
Every day  
We look for a remove.  Med. 
For Lodowick Sforza  
The Duke of Milan, ay, on mine own knowledge,  
Can say thus much; He is too much a Soldier,  
Too confident of his own worth, too rich to;  
And understands too well, the Emperor hates him,  
To hope for composition.  Alph. 
On my life,  
We need not fear his coming in.  Her. 
On mine,  
I do not wish it: I had rather that  
To show his valour, he'd put us to the trouble  
To fetch him in by the Ears.  Med. 
The Emperor.  Enter Charles the Emperor, Pescara, &c. Attendants. Charl. 
You make me wonder (Nay it is no council, You may partake it Gentlemen) who would have thought,  
That he that scorned our proffered amity,  
When he was sued to; should, ere he be summoned,  
(Whither persuaded to it by base fear,  
Or flattered by false hope, which, 'tis uncertain)  
First kneel for mercy?  Med. 
When your Majesty,  
Shall please to instruct us, who it is, we may  
Admire it with you.  Charl. 
Who, but the Duke of Milan,  
The right Hand of the French: Of all that stand  
In our displeasure, whom necessity  
Compels to seek our favour, I would have sworn  
Sforza had been the last.  Her. 
And should be writ so,  
In the list of those you pardon. Would his City  
Had rather held us out a siege like Troy,  
Then by a feigned submission, he should cheat you  
Of a just revenge: Or us, of those fair glories  
We have sweat blood to purchase.  Med. 
With your honour  
You cannot hear him.  Alph. 
The sack alone of Milan  
Will pay the Army.  Charl. 
I am not so weak,  
To be wrought on as you fear; Nor ignorant,  
That Money is the sinew of the War;  
And what terms soever he seek peace,  
'Tis in our power to grant it, or deny it.  
Yet for our glory, and to show him that  
We have brought him on his knees; It is resolved  
To hear him as a Suppliant. Bring him in;  
But let him see the effects of our just anger,  
In the Guard that you make for him.  Ex. Piscara Hern. 
I am now  
Familiar with the issue (all plagues on it)  
He will appear in some dejected habit,  
His countenance suitable; And for his order,  
A Rope about his neck; Then kneel, and tell  
Old Stories, what a worthy thing it is  
To have power, and not to use it; Then add to that  
A Tale of King Tigranes, and great Pompey,  
Who said (forsooth, and wisely) 'Twas more honour  
To make a King, then kill one: Which, applied  
To the Emperor, and himself, a Pardon's granted  
To him, an Enemy; and we his Servants,  
Condemned to beggary.  En. Sforza Med. 
Yonder he comes,  
But not as you expected.  Alph. 
He looks, as if  
He would outface his dangers.  Hern. 
I am cozened:  
A suitor in the devil's name.  Med. 
Hear him speak.  Sf. 
I come not (Emperor) to invade thy mercy,  
By fawning on thy fortune; Nor bring with me  
Excuses, or denials. I profess  
(And with a good Man's confidence, even this instant,  
That I am in thy power) I was thine enemy;  
Thy deadly and vowed enemy; One that wished  
Confusion to thy Person and Estates;  
And with my utmost powers, and deepest counsels  
(Had they been truly followed) furthered it:  
Nor will I now, although my neck were under  
The Hangman's Axe, with one poor syllable  
Confess, but that I honoured the French King,  
More than thyself, and all Men.  Med. 
By Saint jaques,  
This is no flattery.  Her. 
There is Fire, and Spirit in't;  
But not long lived, I hope.  Sf. 
Now give me leave,  
(My hate against thyself, and love to him  
Freely acknowledged) to give up the reasons  
That made me so affected. In my wants  
I ever found him faithful; Had supplies  
Of Men and Moneys from him; And my hopes  
Quite sunk, were by his Grace, buoyed up again:  
He was indeed to me, as my good Angel,  
To guard me from all dangers. I dare speak  
(Nay must and will) his praise now, in as high  
And loud a key, as when he was thy equal.  
The benefits he sowed in me, met not  
Unthankful ground, but yielded him his own  
With fair increase, and I still glory in it.  
And though my fortunes (poor, compared to his,  
And Milan weighed with France, appear as nothing)  
Are in thy fury burned: Let it be mentioned,  
They served but as small Tapers to attend  
The solemn flame at this great Funeral:  
And with them I will gladly waste myself,  
Rather than undergo the imputation,  
Of being base or unthankful.  Alph. 
Nobly spoken.  Her. 
I do begin, I know not why, to hate him  
Less than I did.  Sf. 
If that then to be grateful  
For courtesies received; Or not to leave  
A friend in his necessities, be a crime  
Amongst you Spaniards (which other Nations  
That like your aimed at Empire, loved, and cherished  
where'er they found it) Sforza brings his Head  
To pay the forfeit; Nor come I as a Slave,  
pinioned and fettered, in a squalid weed,  
Falling before thy Feet, kneeling and howling,  
For a forestalled remission; That were poor,  
And would but shame thy victory: For conquest  
Over base foes, is a captivity,  
And not a triumph. I ne'er feared to die,  
More than I wished to live. When I had reached  
My ends in being a Duke, I wore these Robes,  
This Crown upon my Head, and to my side  
This Sword was girt; And witness truth, that now  
'Tis in another's power when I shall part  
With them and life together, I am the same,  
My Veins then did not swell with pride; nor now,  
They shrink for fear: Know Sir, that Sforza stands  
Prepared for either fortune.  Her. 
As I live,  
I do begin strangely to love this fellow;  
And could part with three quarters of my share  
In the promised spoil, to save him.  Sf. 
But if example  
Of my fidelity to the French (whose honours,  
Titles, and glories, are now mixed with yours;  
As Brooks devoured by Rivers, lose their names)  
Has power to invite you to make him a friend,  
That hath given evident proof, he knows to love,  
And to be thankful; This my Crown, now yours,  
You may restore me: And in me instruct  
These brave Commanders (should your fortune change,  
Which now I wish not) what they may expect,  
From noble enemies for being faithful.  
The charges of the war I will defray,  
And what you may (not without hazard) force,  
Bring freely to you: I'll prevent the cries  
Of murdered Infants, and of ravished Maids,  
Which in a City sacked call on heaven's justice,  
And stop the course of glorious victories.  
And when I know the Captains and the Soldiers,  
That have in the late battle, done best service,  
And are to be rewarded; ay, myself  
(According to their quality and merits)  
Will see them largely recompensed. I have said,  
And now expect my sentence.  Alph. 
By this light,  
'Tis a brave Gentleman.  Med. 
How like a block  
The Emperor sits?  Her. 
He hath delivered reasons,  
Especially in his purpose to enrich  
Such as fought bravely (I myself am one,  
I care not who knows it) as, I wonder, that  
He can be so stupid. Now he begins to stir,  
Mercy an't be thy will.  Charl. 
Thou hast so far  
Outgone my expectation, noble Sforza  
(For such I hold thee) And true constancy,  
Raised on a brave foundation, bears such palm,  
And privilege with it; That where we behold it,  
Though in an enemy, it does command us  
To love and honour it. By my future hopes,  
I am glad, for thy sake, that in seeking favour,  
Thou didst not borrow of vice her indirect,  
Crooked, and abject means: And for mine own,  
(That since my purposes must now be changed  
Touching thy life and fortunes) the world cannot  
Tax me of levity, in my settled counsels;  
I being neither wrought by tempting bribes,  
Nor servile flattery; but forced unto it,  
By a fair war of virtue.  Hern. 
This sounds well.  Charl. 
All former passages of hate be buried;  
For thus with open arms I meet thy love,  
And as a friend embrace it: And so far  
I am from robbing thee of the least honour,  
That with my hands, to make it sit the faster,  
I set thy Crown once more upon thy head:  
And do not only style thee, Duke of Milan,  
But vow to keep thee so: Yet not to take  
From others to give only to myself,  
I will not hinder your magnificence  
To my Commanders, neither will I urge it,  
But in that, as in all things else I leave you  
To be your own disposer  flourish. Ex. Chart. Sf. 
May I live  
To seal my loyalty, though with loss of life  
In some brave service worthy Caesar's favor,  
And I shall die most happy. Gentlemen,  
Receive me to your loves, and if henceforth  
There can arise a difference between us,  
It shall be in a Noble emulation.  
Who hath the fairest Sword, or dare go farthest,  
To sight for Charles the Emperor?  Hern. 
We embrace you,  
As one well read in all the points of honour,  
And there we are your Scholars.  Sf. 
True, but such  
As far outstrip the Master; we'll contend  
In love hereafter, in the mean time pray you,  
Let me discharge my debt, and as in earnest  
Of what's to corn, divide this cabinet:  
In the small body of it there are jewels,  
Will yield a hundred thousand Pistolets,  
Which honour me to receive.  Med. 
You bind us to you.  Sf. 
And when great Charles commands me to his presence,  
If you will please to excuse my abrupt departure,  
Designs that most concern me next this mercy,  
Calling me home, I shall hereafter meet you,  
And gratify the favour.  Her. 
In this and all things, we are your Servants.  Sf. 
A name I ever owe you.  Ex. Med. Her. Alph. Pesc. 
So Sir, this tempest is well overblown,  
And all things fall out to our wishes. But  
In my opinion, this quick return,  
Before you have made a party in the Court  
Among the great ones (for these needy Captains  
Have little power in peace) may beget danger,  
At least suspicion.  Sf. 
Where true honour lives,  
Doubt hath no being, I desire no pawn  
Beyond an Emperor's word for my assurance:  
Besides, Pescara, to thyself of all men  
I will confess my weakness, though my State  
And Crown's restored me, though I am in grace  
And that a little stay might be a step  
To greater honours, I must hence. Alas,  
I live not here, my wife, my wife Pescara,  
Being absent I am dead. prithee excuse,  
And do not chide for friendship's sake my fondness  
But ride along with me, I'll give you reasons,  
And strong ones, to plead for me.  Pesc. 
Use your own pleasure,  
I'll bear you company.  Sf. 
Farewell grief, I am stored with  
Two blessings most desired in humane life,  
A constant friend, an unsuspected wife.   

Actus Ter. Scae. Secunda.  Enter Graccho, Officer. Offic. 
What I did, I had warrant for; you have tasted  
My Office gently, and for those soft strokes,  
Flea bitings to the jerks I could have lent you,  
There does belong a feeling.  Grac. 
Must I pay  
For being tormented and dishonoured?  Off. 
Fie no,  
Your honours not impaired in't: What's the letting out  
Of a little corrupt blood, and the next way too?  
There is no Chirurgeon like me to take off  
A courtier's Itch that's rampant at great Ladies,  
Or turns knave for preferment, or grows proud  
Of their rich Cloaks, and Suits, though got by brokage,  
And so forgets his betters.  Grac. 
Very good Sir,  
But am I the first man of quality,  
That e'er came under your fingers?  Off. 
Not by a thousand,  
And they have said I have a lucky hand to,  
Both men and women of all sorts have bowed  
Under this sceptre. I have had a fellow  
That could indite forsooth, and make fine meeters  
To tinkle in the ears of ignorant Madams,  
That for defaming of great Men, was sent me  
Threadbare and lousy, and in three days after  
Discharged by another that set him on, I have seen him  
Cap a poe gallant, and his stripes washed of  
With oil of Angels.  Grac. 
I was a sovereign cure,  Off. 
There was a Secretary to, that would not be  
Conformable to the Orders of the Church,  
Nor yield to any argument or reason,  
But still rail at authority, brought to me.  
When I had wormed his tongue, and trussed his haunches,  
Grew a fine Pulpit man, and was beneficed.  
Had he not cause to thank me?  Grac. 
There was physic  
Was to the purpose.  Off. 
Now for women,  
For your more consolation, I could tell you  
twenty fine stories, but I'll end in one,  
And 'tis the last that's memorable.  Grac. 
prithee do,  
For I grow weary of thee.  Off. 
There was lately  
A fine she waiter in the Court, that doted  
Extremely of a Gentleman, that had  
His main dependence on a signior's favour  
(I will not name) but could not compass him  
On any terms. This wanton at dead midnight  
Was found at the exercise behind the Arras  
With the 'foresaid Signior; he got clear off,  
But she was seized on, and to save his honour,  
Endured the lash; And though I made her often  
curvet and caper, she would never tell,  
Who played at push-pin with her.  Grac. 
But what followed?  
prithee be brief.  Off. 
Why this Sir, she delivered,  
Had store of Crowns assigned her by her patron,  
Who forced the Gentleman to save her credit,  
To mary her, and say he was the party  
Found in Lob's pound. So, she that before gladly  
Would have been his whore, reigns o'er him as his wife,  
Nor dares he grumble at it. Speak but truth then,  
Is not my Office lucky?  Grac. 
Go, there's for thee,  
But what will be my fortune?  Off. 
If you thrive not  
After that soft correction, come again.  Grac. 
I thank you knave.  Off. 
And then knave, I will fit you.  Ex. Officer. Grac. 
Whipped like a rogue? no lighter punishment strive  
To balance with a little mirth: 'Tis well,  
My credit sunk for ever, I am now  
Fit company, only for Pages and for foot boys,  
That have perused the porter's Lodge.  Enter two Gentlemen 1. Gentlem. 
See julio,  
Yonder the proud slave is, how he looks now  
After his castigation?  2. Gentlem. 
As he came  
From a close sight at Sea under the Hatches,  
With a she dunkirk, that was shot before  
Between wind and weather,  
And he hath sprung a leak too, or I'm cozened.  1. Gentlem. 
Let's be merry with him.  Grac. 
How they stare at me? am I turned to an Owl?  
The wonder Gentlemen?  2. Gentlem. 
I read this morning  
Strange stories of the passive fortitude  
Of men in former ages, which I thought  
Impossible, and not to be believed.  
But now I look on you, my wonder ceases.  Grac. 
The reason Sir?  2. Gentlem. 
Why Sir you have been whipped  
Whipped signior Graccho. And the whip I take it,  
Is to a Gentleman, the greatest trial  
That may be of his patience.  Grac. 
Sir, I'll call you  
To a strict account for this.  2. Gentlem. 
I'll not deal with you,  
Unless I have a Beadle for my second.  
And then I'll answer you.  1. Gentlem. 
Farewell poor Graccho.  Ex. Gentlem. Grac. 
Better and better still, If ever wrongs  
Could teach a wretch to find the way to vengeance,  
Hell now inspire me. How, the Lord Protector!  
My judge I thank him. Whether thus in private,  
I will not see him.  Enter Franc. & Servant Franc. 
If I am sought for,  
Say I am indisposed, and will not hear,  
Or suits, or suitors.  Seru. 
But Sir, if the Princes  
inquire, what shall I answer?  Franc. 
Say, I am rid  
Abroad to take the air, but by no means  
Let her know I am in Court.  Seru. 
So I shall tell her.  Ex. servant Ent. a Gentlewoman Franc. 
Within there, Ladies.  Gentlew. 
My good Lord, your pleasure?  Franc. 
prithee let me beg thy favour for access  
To the Duchess.  Gentlew. 
In good sooth my Lord I dare not,  
She's very private.  Franc. 
Come there's gold to buy thee  
A new gown, and a rich one.  
This will tempt me,  Gentlew. 
I once swore  
If e'er I lost my maidenhead, it should be  
With a great Lord as you are, and I know not how,  
I feel a yielding inclination in me,  
If you have appetite.  Franc. 
Pox on thy maidenhead,  
Where is thy Lady?  Gentlew. 
If you venture on her,  
She's walking in the Gallery, perhaps  
You will find her less tractable.  Franc. 
Bring me to her.  Gentlew. 
I fear you'll have cold entertainment, when  
You are at your journey's end, and 'twere discretion  
To take a snatch by the way.  Franc. 
prithee leave fooling,  
My page waits in the lobby, give him sweet meats,  
He is trained up for his Master's ease,  
And he will cool thee.  Ex. Franc. & Gentlew. Grac. 
A brave discovery beyond my hope,  
A plot even offered to my hand to work on,  
If I am dull now, may I live and die  
The scorn of worms & slaves, let me consider,  
My Lady and her Mother first committed  
In the favour of the Duchess, and I whipped,  
That with an Iron pen is writ in brass  
On my tough heart, now grown a harder metal,  
And all his bribed approaches to the Duchess  
To be concealed, good, good, This to my Lady,  
Delivered as I'll order it, runs her mad.  
But this may prove but courtship, let it be  
I care not so it feed her jealousy.  Ex.  

Actus Ter. Scae. Ter.  Enter Marcelia, Francisco. Marc. 
Believe thy tears or oaths? Can it be hoped,  
After a practice so abhorred and horrid,  
Repentance e'er can find thee?  Franc. 
Dear Lady,  
Great in your fortune, greater in your goodness,  
Make a superlative of excellence,  
In being greatest in your saving mercy.  
I do confess, humbly confess my fault,  
To be beyond all pity; my attempt,  
So barbarously rude, that it would turn  
A saintlike patience, into savage fury:  
But you that are all innocence and virtue,  
No spleen or anger in you of a woman,  
But when a holy zeal to piety fires you,  
May, if you please, impute the fault to love,  
Or call it beastly lust, for 'tis no better  
A sin, a monstrous sin, yet with it, many  
That did prove good men after, have been tempted,  
And though I am crooked now, 'tis in your power  
To make me straight again.  Marc. 
Is't possible  
This can be cunning?  Franc. 
But if no submission,  
Nor prayers can appease you, that you may know,  
'Tis not the fear of death that makes me sue thus,  
But a loathed detestation of my madness,  
Which makes me wish to live to have your pardon.  
I will not wait the sentence of the Duke  
(Since his return is doubtful) but I myself  
Will do a fearful justice on myself,  
No witness by but you, there being no more  
When I offended: yet before I do it,  
For I perceive in you no signs of mercy,  
I will disclose a secret, which dying with me,  
May prove your ruin.  Marc. 
Speak it, it will take from  
The burden of thy conscience.  Franc. 
Thus then Madam,  
The warrant by my Lord signed for your death,  
Was but conditional, but you must swear  
By your unspotted truth, not to reveal it,  
Or I end here abruptly.  Marc. 
By my hopes  
Of joys hereafter, on.  Franc. 
Nor was it hate  
That forced him to it, but excess of love,  
And if I e'er return, so said great Sforza,  
No living man deserving to enjoy  
My best Marcelia. With the first news  
That I am dead, for no man after me  
Might e'er enjoy her, but till certain proof  
Assure thee I am lost (these were his words)  
Fail not to kill her  
Observe and honour her as if the seal  
Of woman's goodness only dwelled in hers.  
This trust I have abused and basely wronged,  
And if the excelling pity of your mind  
Cannot forgive it, as I dare not hope it,  
Rather than look on my offended Lord,  
I stand resolved to punish it.  Marc. 
Hold, 'tis forgiven,  
And by me freely pardoned. In thy fair life.  
Hereafter study to deserve this bounty  
With thy true penitence (such I believe it)  
Against my resolution hath forced from me,  
But that my Lord, my Sforza should esteem,  
My life fit only as a page, to wait on  
The various course of his uncertain fortunes,  
Or cherish in himself that sensual hope  
In death to know me as a wife, afflicts me,  
Nor does his envy less deserve my anger,  
Which though such is my love, I would not nourish,  
Will stick the ardour that I had to see him  
Return in safety  Franc. 
But if your entertainment  
Should give the least ground to his jealousy,  
To raise up an opinion I am false,  
You then destroy your mercy. Therefore Madam  
(Though I shall ever look on you as on  
My life's preserver, and the miracle  
Of human pity) would you but vouchsafe,  
In company to do me those fair graces  
And favours which your innocency and honour  
May safely warrant, it would to the Duke  
(I being to your best self alone known guilty)  
Make me appear most innocent.  Marc. 
Have your wishes,  
And some thing I may do to try his temper,  
At least to make him know a constant wife,  
Is not so slaved to her husbands doting humours,  
But that she may deserve to live a widow,  
Her fate appointing it.  Franc. 
It is enough,  
Shout, and flourish  
Nay all I could desire, and will make way  
To my revenge, which shall disperse itself  
On him, on her, and all.  Marc. 
What shout is that?  Ent. Tiberio Stephano Tib. 
All happiness to the Duchess, that may flow  
From the Duke's new and wished return.  Marc. 
He's welcome.  Steph. 
How coldly she receives it.  Tib. 
Observe their encounter.  
Flourish.  Ent. Sforza, Pescaria, Isabella, Mariana, Graccho & the rest. Mar. 
What you have told me Graccho is believed,  
And I'll find time to stir in't.  Grac. 
As you see cause,  
I will not do ill offices.  Sf. 
I have stood  
Silent thus long Marcelia, expecting  
When with more than a greedy hast thou wouldst  
Have flown into my arms, and on my lips  
Have printed a deep welcome. My desire  
To glaze myself in these fair eyes, have borne me  
With more than human speed. Nor durst I stay  
In any Temple, or to any saint  
To pay my vows and thanks for my return,  
Till I had seen thee.  Marc. 
Sir, I am most happy  
To look upon you safe, and would express  
My love and duty in a modest fashion,  
Such as might suit with the behaviour  
Of one that knows herself a wife, and how  
To temper her desires, not like a wanton  
fired with hot appetite, nor can it wrong me  
To love discreetly.  Sf. 
How, why can there be  
A mean in your affections to Sforza?  
Or any act though ne'er so loose that may  
Invite or heighten appetite, appear  
Immodest or uncomely. Do not move me,  
My passions to you are in extremes,  
And know no bounds, come kiss me.  Marc. 
I obey you.  Sf. 
By all the joys of love, she does salute me  
As if I were her grandfather. What witch,  
With cursed spells hath quenched the amorous heat  
That lived upon these lips? Tell me Marcellia,  
And truly tell me, is't a fault of mine  
That hath begot this coldness, or neglect  
Of others in my absence?  Marc. 
Neither Sir,  
I stand indebted to your substitute,  
Noble and good Francisco for his care,  
And fair observance of me: There was nothing  
With which you being present could supply me,  
That I dare say I wanted.  Sf. 
How!  Marc. 
The pleasures  
That sacred Hymen warrants us excepted,  
Of which in troth you are too great a doter,  
And there is more of beast in it then man.  
Let us love temperately, things violent last not,  
And too much dotage rather argues folly  
Then true affection.  Grac. 
Observe but this,  
And how she praised my Lords care and observance,  
And then judge Madam if my intelligence  
Have any ground of truth.  Mari. 
No more, I mark it.  Steph. 
How the Duke stands?  Tib. 
As he were routed there,  
And had no motion.  Pesc. 
My Lord, from whence  
Grows this amazement?  Sf. 
It is more dear my friend,  
For I am doubtful whether I have a being,  
But certain that my life's a burden to me,  
Take me bake good Pescara, show me to Caesar,  
In all his rage and fury I disclaim  
His mercy, to live now which is his gift,  
Is worse than death, and with all studied torments.  
Marcellia is unkind, nay worse, grown cold  
In her affection, my excess of fervour,  
Which it was never equaled, grown distasteful.  
But have thy wishes woman, thou shalt know  
That I can be myself, and thus shake off  
The setters of fond dotage. From my sight  
Without reply, for I am apt to do  
Something I may repent. O, who would place  
His happiness in most accursed woman,  
In whom obsequiousness engenders pride,  
And harshness deadly. From this hour  
I'll labour to forget there are such creatures;  
True friends be now my mistresses. Clear your brows,  
And though my heartstrings crack for't, I will be  
To all, a free example of delight:  
We will have sports of all kinds, and propound  
Rewards to such as can produce us new.  
unsatisficed though we surfeit in their store.  
And never think of cursed Marcelia more.  Ex.   


Actus Quart. Scae. Prim.  Enter Francisco, Graccho. Franc. 
And is it possible thou shouldst forget  
A wrong of such a nature, and then study  
My safety and content?  Grac. 
Sir, but allow me  
Only to have read the elements of Courtship  
(Not the abstruse & hidden acts to thrive there)  
And you may please to grant me so much knowledge,  
That injuries from one in grace, like you,  
Are noble favours. Is it not grown common  
In every sect, for those that want, to suffer  
From such as have to give? Your Captain cast  
If poor, though not thought daring, but approved so  
To raise a coward into name, that's rich,  
Suffers disgraces publicly, but receives  
Rewards for them in private.  Franc. 
Well observed.  
Put on, we'll be familiar, and discourse  
A little of this argument. That day,  
In which it was first rumoured, then confirmed,  
Great Sforza thought me worthy of his favour,  
I found myself to be another thing,  
Not what I was before. I passed then  
For a pretty fellow, and of pretty parts too,  
And was perhaps received so: but once raised,  
The liberal Courtier made me Master of  
Those virtues, which I ne'er knew in myself.  
If I pretended to a jest, 'twas made one  
By their interpretation. If I offered  
To reason of Philosophy, though absurdly,  
They had helps to save me, and without a blush  
Would swear, that I by nature had more knowledge,  
Than others could acquire by any labour.  
Nay all I did indeed, which in another  
Was not remarkable, in me showed rarely.  Grac. 
But then they tasted of your bounty.  Franc. 
True,  
They gave me those good parts I was not borne too,  
And by my intercession they got that,  
Which (had I crossed them) they durst not have hoped for  Grac. 
All this is Oracle. And shall I then,  
For a foolish whipping learn to honour him,  
That holds the wheel of Fortune? No, that savours  
Too much of the ancient freedom: Since great men  
Receive disgraces, and give thanks, poor knaves  
Must have nor spleen nor anger. Though I love  
My limbs as well as any man, If you had now  
A humour to kick me lame into an office,  
Where I might sit in State, and undo others,  
Stood I not bound to kiss the foot that did it?  
Though it seem strange there have been such things seen  
In the memory of man.  Franc. 
But to the purpose,  
And then that service done, make thine own fortunes.  
My wife thou sayst, is jealous, I am too  
Familiar with the Duchess.  Grac. 
And incensed  
For her commitment in her brother's absence,  
And by her Mother's anger is spurred on  
To make discovery of it. This her purpose  
Was trusted to my charge, which I declined  
As much as in me lay, but finding her  
Determinately bent to undertake it,  
Though breaking my faith to her may destroy  
My credit with your Lordship, I yet thought,  
Though at my peril, I stood bound to reveal it.  Franc. 
I thank thy care, and will deserve this secret,  
In making thee acquainted with a greater,  
And of more moment. Come into my bosom,  
And take it from me. Canst thou think, dull Graccho,  
My power, and honours, were conferred upon me,  
And add to them this form, to have my pleasures  
Confined and limited? I delight in change,  
And sweet variety, that's my heaven on earth,  
For which I love life only. I confess,  
My wife pleased me a day, the Duchess, two,  
(And yet I must not say, I have enjoyed her)  
But now I care for neither. Therefore Graccho,  
So far I am from stopping Mariana  
In making her complaint, that I desire thee  
To urge her to it.  Grac. 
That may prove your ruin,  
The Duke already being, as 'tis reported,  
Doubtful she hath played false.  Franc. 
There thou art cozened,  
His dotage like an ague keeps his course,  
And now 'tis strongly on him. But I lose time,  
And therefore know, whether thou wilt or no,  
Thou art to be my instrument, and in spite  
Of the old saw, that says, it is not safe  
On any terms to trust a man that's wronged,  
I dare thee to be false.  Grac. 
This is a language  
My Lord, I understand not.  Franc. 
You thought, sirrah,  
To put a trick on me for the relation  
Of what I knew before, and having won  
Some weighty secret from me, in revenge  
To play the traitor. Know thou wretched thing,  
By my command thou wert whipped, & every day  
I'll have thee freshly tortured, if thou miss  
In the lest charge that I impose upon thee,  
Though what I speak, for the most part is true.  
Nay, grant thou hadst a thousand witnesses  
To be deposed they heard it, 'tis in me  
With one word (such is Sforza's confidence  
Of my fidelity not to be shaken)  
To make all void, and ruin my accusers.  
Therefore look to't, bring my wife hotly on  
T'accuse me to the Duke (I have an end in't)  
Or think, what 'tis makes man most miserable,  
And that shall fall upon thee. Thou wert a fool  
To hope by being acquainted with my courses  
To curb and awe me, or that I should live  
Thy slave, as thou didst saucily divine.  
For prying in my counsels, still live mine.  Exe. Franc. Grac. 
I am caught on both sides. This 'tis for a puny  
In Policies Protean School, to try conclusions  
With one that hath commenced & gone out doctor.  
If I discover, what but now he bragged of,  
I shall not be believed. If I fall off  
From him, his threats and actions go together.  
And there's no hope of safety, till I get  
A plummet, that may sound his deepest counsels.  
I must obey and serve him. Want of skill  
Now makes me play the rogue against my will.  Ex. Grac.  

Actus Quart. Scae. Secund.  Enter Marcelia, Tiberio, Stephano, Gentlewoman. Marc. 
Command me from his sight, & with such scorn  
As he would rate his slave.  Tib. 
'T was in his fury.  Steph. 
And he repents it madam.  Marc. 
Was I borne  
To observe his humours, or, because he dotes,  
Must I run mad?  Tib. 
If that your Excellence  
Would please but to receive a feeling knowledge  
Of what he suffers, and how deep the least  
Unkindness wounds from you, you would excuse  
His hasty language.  Steph. 
He hath paid the forfeit  
Of his offence, I'm sure, with such a sorrow,  
As, if it had been greater, would deserve  
A full remission.  Marc. 
Why, perhaps he hath it,  
And I stand more afflicted for his absence,  
Than he can be for mine? So pray you, tell him.  
But till I have digested some sad thoughts,  
And reconciled passions that are at war  
Within myself, I purpose to be private.  
And have you care, unless it be Francisco,  
That no man be admitted.  Tib. 
How Francisco!  Steph. 
He, that at every stage keeps livery Mistresses,  
The stallion of the State!  Tib. 
They are things above us,  
And so no way concern us.  Steph. 
If I were  
The Duke (I freely must confess my weakness)  
I should wear yellow breeches. Here he comes.  Ent. Frac. Tib. 
Nay spare your labour, Lady, we know our exit,  
And quit the room.  Steph. 
Is this her privacy?  
Though with the hazard of a check, perhaps,  
This may go to the Duke.  Marc. 
Your face is full  
Of fears and doubts. The reason?  Franc. 
O best Madam,  
They are not counterfeit. I your poor convert,  
That only wish to live in sad repentance,  
To mourn my desperate attempt of you,  
That have no ends, nor aims, but that your goodness  
Might be a witness of my penitence,  
Which seen would teach you, how to love your mercy,  
Am robbed of that last hope. The Duke, the Duke,  
I more than fear, hath found, that I am guilty.  Marc. 
By my unspotted honour, not from me,  
Nor have I with him changed one syllable  
Since his return, but what you heard.  Franc. 
Yet, malice  
Is Eagle-eyed, and would see that which is not.  
And jealousy's too apt to build upon  
Unsure foundations.  Marc. 
jealousy?  Franc. 
It takes.  Marc. 
Who dares but only think, I can be tainted!  
But for him, though almost on certain proof,  
To give it hearing, not belief, deserves  
My hate for ever.  Franc. 
Whether grounded on  
Your noble, yet chaste favours shown unto me,  
Or her imprisonment, for her contempt  
To you, by my command, my frantic wife  
Hath put it in his head.  Marc. 
Have I then lived  
So long, now to be doubted? Are my favours  
The themes of her discourse? Or what I do,  
That never trod in a suspected path,  
Subject to base construction? Be undaunted,  
For now, as of a creature that is mine,  
I rise up your protectress. All the grace  
I hither to have done you, was bestowed  
With a shut hand. It shall be now more free,  
Open, and liberal. But let it not,  
Though counterfeited to the life, teach you  
To nourish saucy hopes.  Franc. 
May I be blasted  
When I prove such a monster.  Marc. 
I will stand, then,  
Between you, and all danger. He shall know,  
Suspicion o'erturns, what confidence builds,  
And he that dares but doubt, when there's no ground,  
Is neither to himself, nor others sound.  Ex. Marc. Franc. 
So, let it work, her goodness, that denied,  
My service branded with the name of Lust,  
Shall now destroy itself. And she shall find,  
When he's a suitor, that brings Cunning armed  
With power to be his advocates, the denial  
Is a disease as killing as the plague,  
And chastity a clew, that leads to death.  
Hold but thy nature, Duke, and be but rash,  
And violent enough, and then at leisure  
Repent. I care not.  
And let my plots produce this longed-for birth,  
In my revenge I have my heaven on earth.  Ex. Franc.  

Act. Quart. Scae. Tert.  Enter Sforza, Pescara, three Gentlemen. Pesc. 
You promised to be merry.  1. Gentlem. 
There are pleasures  
And of all kinds to entertain the time.  2. Gentlem. 
Your excellence vouchsafing to make choice  
Of that, which best affects you.  Sf. 
Hold your prating.  
Learn manners too, you are rude.  3. Gentlem. 
I have my answer,  
Before I ask the question.  Pesc. 
I must borrow  
The privilege of a friend, and will, or else  
I am, like these, a servant, or what's worse,  
A parasite to the sorrow, Sforza worships  
In spite of reason.  Sf. 
Pray you use your freedom,  
And so far, if you please, allow me mine,  
To hear you only, not to be compelled  
To take your moral potions. I am a man,  
And though philosophy your mistress rage for't,  
Now I have cause to grieve, I must be sad,  
And I dare show it.  Pesc. 
Would it were bestowed  
Upon a worthier subject.  Sf. 
Take heed, friend.  
You rub a sore, whose pain will make me mad,  
And I shall then forget myself and you.  
Lance it no further.  Pesc. 
Have you stood the shock  
Of thousand enemies, and outfaced the anger  
Of a great Emperor, that vowed your ruin,  
Though by a desperate, a glorious way,  
That had no precedent? Are you returned with honour,  
Loved by your subjects? Does your fortune court you,  
Or rather say, your courage does command it?  
Have you given proof to this hour of your life,  
Prosperity (that searches the best temper)  
Could never puff you up, nor adverse fate  
Deject your valour? Shall I say, these virtues,  
So many and so various trials of  
Your constant mind, be buried in the frown  
(To please you I will say so) of a fair woman?  
Yet I have seen her equals.  Sf. 
Good Pescara,  
This language in another were profane,  
In you it is unmannerly. Her equall?  
I tell you as a friend, and tell you plainly  
(To all men else, my Sword should make reply)  
Her goodness does disdain comparison,  
And but herself admits no parallel.  
But you will say she's cross, 'tis fit she should be  
When I am foolish, for she's wise, Pescara,  
And knows how far she may dispose her bounties,  
Her honour safe: or if she were averse,  
'Twas a prevention of a greater sin  
Ready to fall upon me, for she's not ignorant  
But truly understands how much I love her,  
And that her rare parts do deserve all honour,  
Her excellence increasing with her years to,  
I might have fall'n into Idolatry,  
And from the admiration of her worth,  
been taught to think there is no power above her,  
And yet I do believe, had Angels sexes,  
The most would be such women, and assume  
No other shape, when they were to appear  
In their full glory.  Pesc. 
Well Sir, I'll not cross you,  
Nor labour to diminish your esteem  
Hereafter of her, since your happiness  
(As you will have it) has alone dependence  
Upon her favour, from my Soul, I wish you  
A fair atonement.  Ent. Tib. & Steph. Sf. 
Time, and my submission  
May work her to it. O! you are well returned,  
Say, am I blessed? hath she vouchsafed to hear you?  
Is there hope left that she may be appeased?  
Let her propound, and gladly I'll subscribe  
To her conditions.  Tib. 
She Sir, yet is froward,  
And desires respite, and some privacy.  Step. 
She was harsh at first, but ere we parted, seemed not  
Implacable.  Sf. 
there's comfort yet, I'll ply her  
Each hour with new Ambassadors of more honours,  
Titles, and eminence. My second self  
Francisco, shall solicit her.  Steph. 
That a wise man,  
And what is more, a Prince, that may command,  
Should sue thus poorly, and treat with his wife,  
As she were a victorious enemy,  
At whose proud feet, himself, his State, and Country,  
Basely begged mercy.  Sf. 
What is that you mutter?  
I'll have thy thoughts.  Steph. 
You shall, you are too fond,  
And feed a pride that's swollen too big already,  
And surfeits with observance.  Sf. 
O my patience!  
My vassal speak thus?  Steph. 
Let my head answer it  
If I offend. She that you think a Saint,  
I fear may play the Devil.  Pesc. 
Well said old fellow.  Steph. 
And he that hath so long ingrossed your favours,  
Though to be named with reverence, Lord Francisco,  
Who as you purpose, shall solicit for you,  
I think's too near her.  Pesc. 
Hold Sir, this is madness.  Steph. 
It may be they confer of winning Lordships,  
I'm sure he's private with her.  Sf. 
Let me go,  
I scorn to touch him, he deserves my pity,  
And not my anger, dotard, and to be one  
Is thy protection, else thou durst not think  
That love to my Marcella hath left room  
In my full heart for any Jealous thought,  
That idle passion dwell with thick-skinned Tradesmen.  
The undeserving Lord, or the unable,  
Lock up thy own wife fool, that must take physic  
From her young Doctor upon her back  
Because thou hast the palsy in that part  
That makes her active, I could smile to think  
What wretched things they are that dare be jealous,  
Were I matched to another Messaline,  
While I sound merit in myself to please her:  
I should believe her chaste, and would not seek  
To find out my own torment, but alas,  
Enjoying one that but to me's a Dien,  
I'm too secure.  Tib. 
This is a confidence  
Beyond example.  Ent. Grac. Isab. Mar. Grac. 
There he is, now speak,  
Or be for ever silent.  Sf. 
If you come  
To bring me comfort, say, that you have made  
My peace with my Marcelia.  Isab. 
I had rather  
Wait on you to your funeral.  Sf. 
You are my mother,  
Or by her life you were dead else.  Mar. 
Would you were,  
To your dishonour, and since dotage makes you  
Wilfully blind, borrow of me my eyes,  
Or some part of my spirit. Are you all flesh?  
A limb of patience only? No fire in you?  
But do your pleasure, here your Mother was  
Committed by your servant (for I scorn  
To call him husband) and myself your sister,  
If that you dare remember such a name,  
Mewed up to make the way open and free  
For the Adultress, I am unwilling  
To say a part of Sforza.  Sf. 
Take her head off,  
She hath blasphemed, and by our Law must die.  Isab. 
Blasphemed, for calling of a whore, a whore?  Sf. 
O hell, what do I suffer?  Mar. 
Or is it treason  
For me that am a subject, to endeavour  
To save the honour of the Duke, and that  
He should not be a wittol on record.  
For by postery 'twill be believed  
As certainly as now it can be proved,  
Francisco the great Minion, that sways all,  
To meet the chaste embraces of the Duchess,  
Hath leapt into her bed.  Sf. 
Some proof vile creature,  
Or thou hast spoke thy last.  Mar. 
The public fame,  
Their hourly private meetings, and even now  
When under a pretence of grief or anger,  
You are denied the joys due to a husband,  
And made a stranger to her, at all times  
The door stands open to him. To a Dutchman  
This were enough, but to a right Italian,  
A hundred thousand witnesses.  Isab. 
Would you have us  
To be her bawds?  Sf. 
O the malice  
And envy of base women, that with horror  
Knowing their own defects and inward guilt,  
Dare lie, and swear, and damn, for what's most false,  
To cast aspersions upon one untainted,  
You're in your nature's devils, and your ends  
Knowing your reputation sunk for ever,  
And not to be recovered, to have all,  
Wear your black livery. Wretches, you have raised  
A Monumental trophy to her pureness,  
In this your studied purpose to deprave her,  
And all the shot made by your foul detraction  
Falling upon her sure-armed Innocence,  
returns upon yourselves, and if my love  
Could suffer an addition, I'm so far  
From giving credit to you, this would teach me  
More to admire & serve her, you are not worthy  
To fall as sacrifices to appease her,  
And therefore live till your own envy burst you.  Isab. 
All is in vain, he is not to be moved.  Mar. 
She has bewitched him.  Pesc. 
'Tis so past belief,  
To me it shows a fable.  Ent. Franc. & a servant. Franc. 
On thy life  
Provide my horses, and without the Port  
With care attend me.  Seru. 
I shall my Lord.  Ex. Seru. Grac. 
He's come.  
What crack have we next?  Franc. 
Great Sir.  Sf. 
Francisco,  
Though all the joys in woman are fled from me  
In thee I do embrace the full delight  
That I can hope from man.  Franc. 
I would impart,  
Please you to lend your care, a weighty-secret,  
I am in labour to deliver to you.  Sf. 
All leave the room, excuse me good Pesc.  
Ere long I will wait on you.  Pesc. 
You speak Sir  
The language I should use.  Sf. 
Be within call,  
Perhaps we may have use of you.  Tib. 
We shall Sir.  Sf. 
Say on my comfort.  Franc. 
Comfort? No, your torment,  
For so my fate appoints me, I could curse  
The hour that gave me being.  Sf. 
What new monsters  
Of misery stand ready to devour me?  
Let them at once dispatch me.  Franc. 
Draw your sword then,  
And as you wish your own peace, quickly kill me,  
Consider not, but do it.  Sf. 
Art thou mad?  Franc. 
Or if to take my life be too much mercy,  
As death indeed concludes all human sorrows,  
Cut off my nose and ears, pull out an eye,  
The other only left to lend me light  
To see my own deformities: Why was I borne  
Without some mulct imposed on me by nature?  
Would from my youth a loathsome leprosy  
Had run upon this face, or that my breath  
Had been infectious and so made me shunned  
Of all societies: cursed be he that taught me  
discourse or manners, or lent any grace  
That makes the owner pleasing in the eye  
Of wanton women, since those parts which others  
Value as blessings, are to me afflictions,  
Such my condition is.  Sf. 
I am on the rack,  
Dissolve this doubtful riddle.  Franc. 
That I alone (you,  
Of all mankind that stand most bound to love  
And study your content should be appointed,  
Not by my will, but forced by cruel fate  
To be your greatest enemy, not to hold you  
In this amazement longer, in a word,  
Your Duchess loves me.  Sf. 
loves thee?  Franc. 
Is mad for me,  
Pursues me hourly:  Sf. 
Oh!  Franc. 
And from hence grew  
Her late neglect of you.  Sf. 
O women! women!  Franc. 
I laboured, to divert her by persuasion,  
Then urged your much love to her, & the danger,  
Denied her, and with scorn.  Sf. 
'Twas like thyself.  Franc. 
But when I saw her smile, then heard her say,  
Your love and extreme dotage as a Cloak  
Should cover our embraces, and your power  
Fright others from suspicion, and all favours  
That should preserve her in her innocence,  
By lust inverted to be used as bawds,  
I could not but in duty (though I know  
That the relation kills in you all hope  
Of peace hereafter, and in me 'twill show  
Both base and poor to rise up her accuser)  
Freely discover it.  Sf. 
Eternal plagues  
Pursue and overtake her, for her sake  
To all posterity may he prove a Cuckold,  
And like to me a thing so miserable  
As words may not express him, that gives trust  
To all deceiving women, or since it is  
The will of Heaven to preserve mankind,  
That we must know, & couple with these serpents,  
No wiseman ever taught by my example  
Hereafter use his wife with more respect  
Than he would do his Horse that does him service,  
Base woman being in her creation made  
A slave to man, but like a village nurse  
Stand I now cursing, and considering when  
The tamest fool would do? Within there, Stephane,  
Tiberio, and the rest, I will be sudden,  
And she shall know and feel love in extremes,  
Abused knows no degree in hate.  Ent. Tib. Step. Guard Tib. 
My Lord.  Sf. 
Go to the Chamber of that wicked woman.  Steph. 
What wicked woman, Sir?  Sf. 
The devil my wife.  
Force a rude entry, and if she refuse,  
To follow you, drag her hither by the hair  
And know no pity, any gentle usage  
To her will call on cruelty from me  
To such as show it, Stand you staring! Go,  
And put my will in act.  Steph. 
there's no disputing.  Tib. 
But 'tis a tempest on the sudden raised,  
Who durst have dreamt of?  Ex. Tib. Steph. Sf. 
Nay, since she dares damnation,  
I'll be a fury to her.  Franc. 
Yet great Sir,  
Exceed not in your fury, she's yet guilty  
Only in her intent.  Sf. 
Intent Francisco?  
It does include all fact, and I might sooner  
Be won to pardon treason to my Crown,  
Or one that killed my Father.  Franc. 
You are wise,  
And know what's best to do, yet if you please  
To prove her temper to the height, say only  
That I am dead, and then observe how far  
She'll be transported. I'll remove a little,  
But be within your call: now to the upshot,  
howe'er I'll shift for one.  Ex. Franc. Enter Tiberio, Stephano, Marcelia, Guard. Marc. 
Where is this Monster?  
This walking tree of jealousy, this dreamer,  
This horned beast that would be? O are you here Sir?  
Is it by your commandment or allowance,  
I am thus basely used? Which of my virtues,  
My labours, services, and cares to please you  
(For to a man suspicious and unthankful,  
Without a blush I may be mine own trumpet)  
Invites this barbarous course? Dare you look on me  
Without a seal of shame?  Sf. 
Impudence,  
How ugly thou appear'st now? Thy intent  
To be a whore, leaves thee not blood enough  
To make an honest blush, what had the act done?  Marc. 
Returned thee the dishonour thou deservest  
Though willingly I had given up myself  
To every common lecher.  Sf. 
Your chief minion,  
Your chosen favourite, your would Francisco,  
Has dearly paid for't, for wretch, know he's dead,  
And by my hand.  Marc. 
The bloodier villain thou,  
But 'tis not to be wondered at, thy love  
does know no other object, thou hast killed then  
A man I do profess I loved, a man  
For whom a thousand Queens might well be rivals,  
But be (I speak it to thy teeth) that dares be  
A jealous fool, dares be a murderer,  
And knows no end in mischief.  Sf. 
I begin now  
stabs her.  
In this my justice.  Marc. 
Oh, I have fooled myself  
Into my grave, and only grieve for that  
Which when you know, you have slain an Innocent  
You needs must suffer.  Sf. 
An Innocent? Let one  
Call in Francisco for he lives (vile creature)  Ex. Steph. 
To justify thy falsehood, and how often  
With whorish flatteries thou hast tempted him,  
I being only fit to live a stale,  
A bawd and property to your wantonness.  Ent. Steph. Steph. 
Signior Francisco Sir, but even now  
Took horse without the Ports.  Marc. 
We are both abused,  
And both by him undone, stay death a little  
Till I have cleared me to my Lord, and then  
I willingly obey thee. O my Sforza,  
Francisco was not tempted, but the Tempter,  
And as he thought to win me showed the warrant  
That you signed for my death.  Sf. 
Then I believe thee,  
Believe thee innocent too.  Marc. 
But being contemned,  
Upon his knees with tears he did beseech me  
Not to reveal it, I soft-hearted fool  
judging his penitence true, was won unto it.  
Indeed the unkindness to be sentenced by you  
Before that I was guilty in a thought,  
Made me put on a seeming anger towards you,  
And now behold the issue, as I do,  
May heaven forgive you. dies.  Tib. 
Her sweet soul has left  
Her beauteous prison.  Steph. 
Look to the Duke, he stands  
As if he wanted motion.  Tib. 
Grief hath stopped  
The organ of his speech.  Steph. 
Take up this body  
And call for his Physicians.  Sf. 
O my heartstrings.    


Actus Quint. Scae. Prim.  Enter Francisco, Eugenia. Franc. 
Why couldst thou think Eugenia that rewards,  
Graces, or favours though strewed thick upon me  
Could ever bribe me to forget mine honour?  
Or that I tamely would sit down, before  
I had dried these eyes still wet with showers of tears  
By the fue of my revenge? Look up my dearest  
For that proud-fair that thief-like stepped between  
Thy promised hopes, and robbed thee of a fortune  
Almost in thy possession, hath found  
With horrid proof, his love she thought her  
And assurance of all happiness, (glory  
But hastened her sad ruin.  Eug. 
Do not flatter  
A grief that is beneath it, for however  
The credulous Duke to me proved false & cruel,  
It is impossible he could be wrought  
To look on her, but with the eyes of dotage,  
And so to serve her.  Franc. 
Such indeed I grant  
The stream of his affection was, and ran  
A constant course, till I with cunning malice  
(And yet I wrong my act, for it was justice)  
Made it turn backwards, and hate in extremes  
Love banished from his heart to fill the room,  
In a word, know the fair Marcelia's dead.  Eng. 
Dead!  Franc. 
And by Sforza's hand, does it not move you?  
How coldly you receive it? I expected  
The mere relation of so great a blessing  
Borne proudly on the wings of sweet revenge  
Would have called on a sacrifice of thanks,  
And joy not to be bounded or concealed!  
You entertain it with a look, as if  
You wished it were undone!  Eug. 
Indeed I do,  
For if my sorrows could receive addition,  
Her sad fate would increase, not lessen'em.  
She never injured me, but entertained  
A fortune humbly offered to her hand,  
Which a wise Lady gladly would have kneeled for.  
Unless you would impute it as a crime,  
She was more fair than I, and had discretion  
Not to deliver up her virgin fort  
(Though straight besieged with flatteries, vows, & tears)  
Until the Church had made it safe & lawful.  
And had I been the mistress of her judgement  
And constant temper, skilful in the knowledge  
Of man's malicious falsehood, I had never  
Upon his hell-deep oaths to marry me,  
Given up my fair name, and my maiden honour  
To his foul lust, nor lived now being branded  
In the forehead for his whore the scorn & Shame  
Of all good women.  Franc. 
Have you then no gall,  
Anger, or spleen familiar to your sex?  
Or is it possible that you could see  
Another to possess what was your due,  
And not grow pale with envy?  Eug. 
Yes of him  
That did deceive me. there's no passion that  
A maid so injured ever could partake of  
But I have dearly suffered. These three years  
In my desire, and labour of revenge,  
Trusted to you, I have endured the throes  
Of teeming women, and will hazard all  
Fate can inflict on me but I will reach  
Thy heart false Sforza. You have trifled with me  
And not proceeded with that fiery zeal  
I looked for from a brother of your spirit.  
Sorrow forsake me, and all signs of grief  
Farewell for ever; Vengeance armed with fury  
Possess me wholly now.  Franc. 
The reason sister  
Of this strange metamorphosis?  Eug. 
Ask thy fears,  
Thy base unmanly fears, thy poor delays,  
Thy dull forgetfulness equal with death,  
My wrong else, and the scandal which can never  
Be washed off from our house but in his blood,  
Would have stirred up a coward to a deed  
In which, though he had fall'n, the brave intent  
Had crowned itself with a fair monument  
Of noble resolution. In this shape  
I hope to get access, and then with shame  
Hearing my sudden execution, judge  
What honour thou hast lost in being transcended  
By a weak woman.  Franc. 
Still mine own, and dearer,  
And yet in this you but pour oil on fire,  
And offer your assistance where it needs not,  
And that you may perceive I lay not fallow,  
But had your wrongs stamped deeply on my heart  
By the Iron pen of vengeance, I attempted  
By whoring her to cuckold him, that failing  
I did begin his tragedy in her death,  
To which it served as Prologue, and will make  
A memorable story of your fortunes  
In my assured revenge, only best sister  
Let us not lose ourselves in the performance,  
By your rash undertaking, we will be  
As sudden as you could wish.  Eug. 
Upon those terms  
I yield myself and cause to be disposed of  
As you think fit.  Ent. servant Franc. 
Thy purpose?  Seru. 
there's one Graccho  
That followed you it seems upon the tract,  
Since you left Milan, that's importunate  
To have access, and will not be denied,  
His haste he says concerns you.  Ex. servant Franc. 
Bring him to me,  
Though he hath laid an ambush for my life,  
Or apprehension, yet I will prevent him  
And work mine own ends out.  Ent. Grac. Grac. 
Now for my whipping,  
And if I now outstrip him not, and catch him,  
And by a new and strange way to, hereafter  
I'll swear there are worms in my brains.  Franc. 
Now my good Graccho,  
We meet as 'twere by miracle!  Grac. 
Love, and duty,  
And vigilance in me for my Lord's safety,  
First taught me to imagine you were here,  
And then to follow you. all's come forth my Lord  
That you could wish concealed. The Duchess wound  
In the Duke's rage put home, yet gave her leave  
To acquaint him with your practises, which your flight  
Did easily confirm.  Franc. 
This I expected,  
But sure you come provided of good counsel  
To help in my extremes.  Grac. 
I would not hurt you.  Franc. 
How? hurt me? Such another word's thy death,  
Why dar'st thou think it can fall in thy will,  
T'outlive what I determine?  Grac. 
How he awes me?  Franc. 
Be brief, what brought thee hither?  Grac. 
Care to inform you,  
You are a condemned man pursued, and sought for,  
And your head rated at ten thousand Ducats  
To him that brings it.  Franc. 
Very good.  Grac. 
All passages  
Are intercepted, and choice troops of horse  
Scour o'er the neighbour plains, your picture sent  
To every State confederate with Milan.  
That though I grieve to speak it, in my judgement  
So thick your dangers meet, and run upon you,  
It is impossible you should escape  
Their curious search.  Eug. 
Why let us then turn Romans,  
And falling by our own hands, mock their threats,  
And dreadful preparations.  Franc. 
'Twould show nobly,  
But that the honour of our full revenge  
Were lost in the rash action: No Eugenia,  
Graccho is wise, my friend to, not my servant,  
And I dare trust him with my latest secret.  
We would (and thou must help us to perform it)  
First kill the Duke, then fall what can upon us,  
For injuries are writ in brass, kind Graccho.  
And not to be forgotten.  Grac. 
He instructs me  
What I should do.  Franc. 
What's that?  Grac. 
I labour with  
A strong desire t'assist you with my service,  
And now I am delivered of 't.  Franc. 
I told you.  
Speak my oraculous Graccho,  Grac. 
I have heard Sir  
Of men in debt, that laid for by their creditors  
(In all such places where it could be thought  
They would take shelter) chose for sanctuary,  
Their lodgings underneath their creditors noses,  
Or near that prison to which they were designed  
If apprehended, confident that there  
They never should be sought for.  Eug. 
'Tis a strange one!  Franc. 
But what infer you from it?  Grac. 
This my Lord,  
That since all ways of your escape are stopped,  
In Milan only, or what's more, i'the Court  
(Whether it is presumed you dare not come)  
Concealed in some disguise you may live safe.  Franc. 
And not to be discovered?  Grac. 
But by myself.  Franc. 
By thee? Alas I know thee honest Graccho,  
And I will put thy counsel into act,  
And suddenly. Yet not to be ungrateful  
For all thy loving travel to preserve me,  
What bloody end soe'er my stars appoint,  
Thou shalt be safe good Graccho. Who's within there?  Grac. 
In the devil's name what means he? Ent. servants  Franc. 
Take my friend  
Into your custody, and bind him fast,  
I would not part with him.  Grac. 
My good Lord.  Franc. 
Dispatch,  
'Tis for your good to keep you honest Graccho,  
I would not have ten thousand Ducats tempt you  
(Being of a soft and wax like disposition)  
To play the traitor, nor a foolish itch  
To be revenged for your late excellent whipping  
Give you the opportunity to offer  
My head for satisfaction. Why thou fool,  
I can look through, & through thee, thy intents  
Appear to me as written in thy forehead  
In plain and easy characters. And but that  
I scorn a slave's base blood should rust that sword  
That from a Prince expects a scarlet die,  
Thou now wert dead, but live only to pray  
For good success to crown my undertakings,  Ex. servants with Grace. 
And then at my return perhaps I'll free thee  
To make me further sport. Away with him,  
I will not hear a syllable. We must trust  
ourselves Eugenia, and though we make use of  
The counsel of our servants, that oil spent,  
Like snuffs that do offend we tread them out.  
But now to our last Scene, which we'll so carry,  
That few shall understand how 'twas begun,  
Till all with half an eye may see 'tis done.  Exeunt  

Actus Quint. Scae. Secund.  Enter Pescara, Tiberio, Stephano. Pesc. 
The like was never read of.  Steph. 
In my judgement  
To all that shall but hear it, 'twill appear  
A most impossible fable.  Tib. 
For Francisco,  
My wonder is the less because there are  
Too many precedents of unthankful men  
Raised up to greatness, which have after studied  
The ruin of their makers.  Steph. 
But that melancholy,  
Though ending in distraction, should work  
So far upon a man as to compel him  
To court a thing that has nor sense, nor being,  
Is unto me a miracle.  Pesc. 
'Troth I'll tell you,  
And briefly as I can, by what degrees  
He fell into this madness, When by the care  
Of his Physicians he was brought to life,  
As he had only passed a fearful dream,  
And had not acted what I grieve to think on,  
He called for fair Marcelia, and being told  
That she was dead, he broke forth in extremes,  
(I would not say blasphemed) & cried that heaven  
For all th'offences that mankind could do,  
Would never be so cruel as to rob it  
Of so much sweetness, & of so much goodness,  
That not alone was sacred in herself,  
But did preserve all others' innocent  
That had but converse with her: Than it came  
Into his fancy that she was accused  
By his mother & his sister, thrice he cursed 'em,  
And thrice his desperate hand was on his sword  
To have killed 'em both, but he restrained, & they  
Shunning his fury, spite of all prevention  
He would have turned his rage upon himself,  
When wisely his Physicians looking on  
The Duchess wound, to stay his ready hand,  
Cried out it was not mortal.  Tib. 
'T was well thought on.  Pesc. 
He easily believing what he wished,  
More than a perpetuity of pleasure  
In any object else, flattered by hope  
Forgetting his own greatness, he fell prostrate  
At the doctor's feet, implored their aid, & swore,  
Provided they recovered her, he would live  
A private man, & they should share his dukedom.  
They seemed to promise fair, and every hour  
Vary their judgements as they find his fit  
To suffer intermission, or extremes.  
For his behaviour since  Sf. 
As you have pity within.  
Support her gently.  Pesc. 
Now be your own witnesses.  
I am prevented.  Enter Sforza, lsab. Mari. the body of Marc. Doctors, Servants. Sf. 
Carefully I beseech you,  
The gentlest touch torments her, & then think  
What I shall suffer. O you earthy gods,  
You second natures, that from your great master  
(Who joined the limbs of torn Hippolytus,  
And drew upon himself the Thunderers envy)  
Are taught those hidden secrets that restore  
To life death wounded men, You have a patient  
On whom to express the excellence of art,  
Will bind e'en heaven your debtor, though It pleases  
To make your hands the organs of a work  
The saints will smile to look on, & good Angels  
Clap their Celestial wings to give it plaudits.  
How pale and wan she looks? O pardon me,  
That I presume died o'er with bloody guilt,  
Which makes me I confess, far, far unworthy  
To touch this snow-white hand. How cold it is?  
This once was Cupid's firebrand, and still  
'Tis so to me. How slow her pulses beat to?  
Yet in this temper she is all perfection,  
And Mistress of a heat so full of sweetness,  
The blood of virgins in their pride of youth  
Are balls of Snow or Ice compared unto her.  Mar. 
Is not this strange?  Isab. 
O cross him not dear daughter,  
Our conscience tells us we have been abused,  
Wrought to accuse the innocent, and with him  
Are guilty of a fact-!  Ent. a servant Mar. 
'Tis now past help.  Pesc. 
With me? What is he?  Ser. 
He has a strange aspect,  
A jew by birth, and a Physician  
By his profession as he says, who hearing  
Of the Duke's frenzy, on the forfeit of  
His life will undertake to render him  
Perfect in every part. Provided that  
Your Lordship's favour gain him free access,  
And your power with the Duke a safe protection,  
Till the great work be ended.  Pesc. 
Bring me to him,  
As I find cause I'll do.  Exe. Pesc. & Ser. Sfor. 
How sound she sleeps!  
Heaven keep her from a lethargy; how long  
(But answer me with comfort I beseech you.)  
does your sure judgement tell you that these lids  
That cover richer jewels then themselves  
Like envious night will bar these glorious suns  
From shining on me?  I. Doct. 
We have given her Sir,  
A sleepy potion that will hold her long,  
That she may be less sensible of the torment,  
The searching of her wound will put her to  2. Doct. 
she now feels little, but if we should make her,  
To hear her speak would fright both us and you,  
And therefore dare not hasten it.  Sf. 
I am patient,  
You see I do not rage, but wait your pleasure.  
What do you think she dreams of now? for sure  
Although her Body's organs are bound fast,  
Her fancy cannot slumber  I. Doct 
That Sir, looks on  
Your sorrow for your late rash art with pity  
Oh what you suffer for it, and prepares  
To meet with free confession of your guilt  
With a glad pardon.  Forza 
she was ever kind  
And her displeasure though called on, short lived  
Upon the least submission. O you powers  
That can convey our thoughts to one another  
Without the end of eyes, or ears, assist me,  
Let her behold me in a pleasing dream,  
Thus on my knees before her (yet that duty  
In me is not sufficient) let her see me  
Compel my mother (from whom I look life)  
And this my sister, Partner of my being,  
To bow thus low unto her, let her hear us  
In my acknowledgement freely confess  
That we in a degree as high are guilty,  
As she is innocent; bite your tongues, vile creatures,  
And let your inward horror fright your souls  
For having belied that pureness, to come near which  
All women that posterity can bring forth  
Must be, though striving to be good, poor Rivals.  
And for that dog Francisco (that seduced me  
In wounding her to raise a temple built  
To Chastity and sweetness) let her know  
I'll follow him to hell, but I will find him,  
And there live a fourth fury to torment him.  
Then for this cursed hand and arm that guided  
The wicked steel, I'll have them joint by joint,  
With burning irons seared of, which I will eat.  
I being a vulture fit to taste such carrion,  
Lastly.  1. Doct. 
You are too loud, Sir, you disturb  
Her sweet repose.  Forza. 
I am hushed, yet give us leave  
Thus prostrate at her feet, our eyes bent downwards,  
Unworthy, and ashamed to look upon her,  
T'expect her gracious sentence.  2. Doct. 
he's past hope.  1. Doct. 
The body to, will putrify, and then  
We can no longer cover the imposture.  Tibe. 
Which in his death will quickly be discovered  
I can but weep his fortune.  Steph. 
Yet be careful,  
You lose no minute to preserve him, time,  
May lessen his distraction.  Ent. Pesca. Fran. Eugen. Franc. 
I am no God sir.  
To give a new life to her, yet I'll hazard  
My head, I'll work the senseless trunk t' appear  
To him as it had got a second being,  
Or that the soul that's fled from't were called back,  
To govern it again, I will preserve it  
In the first sweetness, and by a strange vapour  
Which I'll infuse into her mouth, create  
A seeming breath, I'll make her veins run high to  
As if they had true motion.  Pesc. 
Do but this,  
Till we use means to win upon his passions  
T'endure to hear she's dead with some small patience  
And make thy own reward.  Franc. 
The art I use  
Admits no looker on, I only ask  
The fourth part of an hour to perfect that  
I boldly undertake.  Pesc. 
I will procure it.  2. Doct. 
What stranger's this?  Pesc. 
Sooth me in all I say  
There is a main end in't.  Frans. 
Beware.  Euge. 
I am warned.  Pesc. 
Look up Sir cheerfully, comfort in me  
Flows strong lie to you.  Forza. 
From whence came that sound?  
Was it from my Marcelia? if it were  
I rise and joy will give me wings to meet it.  Pes. 
Nor shall your expectation be deferred  
But a few minutes, your Physicians are  
Mere voice, and no performance, I have found  
A man that can do wonders, do not binder  
The Duchess wisht recovery to inquire,  
Or what he is, or to give thanks, but leave him  
To work this miracle.  Sf. 
Sure, 'tis my good Angel,  
I do obey in all things; be it death  
For any to disturb him, or come near  
Till he be pleased' call us, o be prosperous  
And make a Duke thy Bondman.  Exe. all but Franc. & Eugenia. Franc. 
'tis my purpose  
If that to fall a long wisht sacrifice  
To my revenge can be a benefit.  
I'll first make fast the doors, so.  Euge. 
You amaze me  
What follows now?  Franc. 
A full conclusion  
Of all thy wishes, look on this Eugenia,  
e'en such a thing, the fair on earth  
(For whose delight the elements are ransacked  
And art with nature studies to preserve her,  
Must be when she is summoned to appear  
In the Court of death, but I lose time.  Euge. 
What mean you?  Franc. 
Disturb me not, your Ladyship looks pale  
But I, your doctor, have a ceruse for you,  
See my Eugenia, how many faces  
That are adored in Court borrow these helps,  
And pass for excellence, when the better part  
Of them are like to this, your mouth smells sour to,  
But here is that shall take away the scent,  
A precious antidote old Ladies use  
When they would kiss, knowing their gums are rotten:  
These hands to, that disdained to take a touch  
From any lip, whose honour writ not Lord  
Are now but as the coursest cash out I  
Am at the charge my bill not to be paid to  
To give them seeming bravery, so 'tis done  
How do you like my workmanship?  Eugen. 
I tremble  
And thus to tyrannize upon the dead  
Is most inhuman.  Franc. 
Come we for revenge,  
And can we think on pity? now to the upshot,  
And as it proves applaud it. My lord the Duke  
Enter with joy, and see the sudden chance  
Your servant's hand hath wrought.  Ent. Forza and the rest. Forza. 
I live again  
In my full confidence that Marcelia may  
Pronounce my pardon. Can the speak yet?  Franc. 
No,  
You must not look for all your joys at once,  
That will ask longer time.  Pesca. 
'tis wondrous strange!  Forza. 
By all the dues of love I have had from her,  
This hand seems as it was when first I kissed it,  
These lips invite to, I could ever feed  
Upon these roses, they still keep their colour  
And native sweetness, only the nectar's wanting  
That like the morning dew in flowery May  
Preserved them in their beauty.  Enter Graccho Grac. 
Treason, treason.  Tiber. 
Call up the guard.  Franc. 
Graccho! then we are lost.  Gracc. 
I am got off, Sir jew, a bribe hath done it  
For all your serious charge; there's no disguise can keep  
You from my knowledge,  Forza 
Speak.  Gracc. 
I am out of breath,  
But this is.  Franc. 
Spare thy labour fool, Francisco.  All. 
Monster of Men.  Franc. 
Give me all attributes  
Of all you can imagine, yet I glory  
To be the thing I was borne, I am Francisco,  
Francisco that was raised by you,  
And made the Minion of the time  
The same Francisco,  
That would have whored this trunk when it had life,  
And after breathed a jealousy upon thee  
As killing as those damps that belch out plagues,  
When the foundation of the earth is shaken;  
I made thee do a deed heaven will not pardon  
Which was to kill an innocent.  Forza. 
Call forth the tortures  
For all that flesh can feel.  Franc. 
I dare the worst,  
Only to yield some reason to the world  
Why I pursued this course, look on this face  
Made old by thy base falsehood, 'tis Eugenia.  Forza. 
Eugenia.  Franc. 
does it start you Sir? my Sister,  
Seduced and fooled by thee, but thou must pay  
The forfeit of thy falsehood, does it not work yet?  
whate'er becomes of me (which I esteem not)  
Thou art marked for the grave, I have given thee poison  
In this cup, now observe me, with thy last  
Carousing deeply of, made thee forget  
Thy vowed, faith to Eugenia.  Pesc. 
O damned villain!  Isab. 
How do you Sir?  Forza. 
Like one,  
That learns to know in death what punishment;  
Waits on the breath of faith, o now I feel  
An AEtna in my entrails, I have lived  
A Prince, and my last breath shallbe command  
I burn, I burn, yet ere life be consumed  
Let me pronounce upon this wretch all torture  
That witty cruelty can invent.  Pesc. 
Away with him.  Tibe. 
In all things we will serve you.  Franc. 
Farewell sister,  
Now I have kept my word, torments I scorn,  
I leave the world with glory, they are men  
And leave behind them name and memory,  
That wronged do right themselves before they die.  Ste. 
A desperate wretch.  Exe. guard with Franc. Forza. 
I come death, I obey thee,  
Yet I will not die raging, for alas,  
My whole life was a frenzy. Good Eugenia  
In death forgive me, As you love me bear her  
To some religious house, there let her spend  
The remnant of her life, when I am ashes  
Perhaps she'll be appeared, and soar a prayer  
For my poor soul. Bury me with Marcelia  
And let our Epitaph be—  Tibe. 
His speech is stopped.  Steph. 
Already dead.  Pesc. 
It is in vain to labour  
To call him back, we'll give him funeral,  
And then determine of the state affairs  
And learn from this example there's no trust  
In a foundation that is built on lust.  Exeunt.   
FINIS.