THE Unfortunate Mother: A tragedy.  
Never acted; but set down according to the intention of the Author  
Thomas Nabbes.  
LONDON: Printed by I. O. for Daniel Frere, and are to be sold at the Sign of the Red Bull in Little Britain. 1640.   

TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFUL Richard Braithwaite esquire.  
Sir,  
I Have (though boldly being a stranger) elected you, to countenance a piece, that (undeservedly I hope) hath been denied the credit which it might have gained from the Stage; though I can accuse myself of no error in it, more than a nice curiosity (which not withstanding I must boast to be without precedent) in the method where I have denied myself much liberty, that may be allowed a Poet from old example, and new established custom. yourself have given many sufficient testimonies of your own abilities and judgement, by your own many published and unquestionable labours. In giving way and pardon to this bold act of mine, you will engage to thankfulness, & honour him that is ambitious to be known by you, and styled  
Your honourer and humble Servant, Thomas Nabbes.   

Proem To the Reader.  

REader, thou wilt undo my Poems fate  
If thy opinion be prejudicated:  
If not, than I shall neither hope nor fear,  
Whether thou wilt be partial or severe.  
But 'cause I know not how thou art inclined,  
I'll tell thee what shalt not, and what shalt find.  
Here are no bombast raptures swelling high,  
To pluck jove and the rest down from the sky.  
Here is no sense that must by thee be scanned,  
Before thou canst the meaning understand.  
Here is not any glorious Scene of state;  
Nor Christening set out with the Lottery Plate.  
There's no disguise in't; no false beard, that can  
Discover several persons in one man.  
No Politician tells his plots unto  
Those in the Pit, and what he means to do.  
But now methinks I hear some Critic say,  
All these left out there's nothing in the play.  
Yes; Thou shalt find plain words, and language clean  
That Cockram needs not tell thee what they mean.  
Shalt find strict method in't, and every part  
Severely ordered by the rules of Art.  
A constant Scene: the business it intends  
The two hours' time of action comprehends.  
Read it with observation then, and be  
My Judge from reason; not from tyranny.   
Thine Thomas Nabbes.   

To The Author on this his TRAGEDY.  

PRinted before 'tis Acted! such a trick  
As few men will judge to be politic.  
But little reason for it we can see,  
Profit should grow contemptible with thee.  
I read it, and it hath my vote for good;  
Sure 'twas not by some others understood:  
By whom I wish action might added be,  
For that's the best life of a Tragedy.  
Sure though they tyrant like did sentence give  
Upon thy Mother, she deserves to live.   
E. B.   

To the Author on his Unfortunate MOTHER.  

I Do not wonder that great Jonson's Play  
Was scorned so by the ignorant, that day  
It did appear in its most glorious shine;  
And comely action graced each learned line.  
There was some reason for it: 'twas above  
Their reason, their envy; their applause or love:  
whenas the wiser few did it admire,  
And warmed their fancies at his genuine fire.   

But I commend the wisdom of thy Fate,  
To sell thy labours at a better rate,  
Than the contempt of the most squeamish age;  
Or the exactest Roscij of the Stage:  
Which might provoke our Laureate to repine,  
That thine should rival his brave Albovine.  
Thy Muse in this birth doth unhappy prove,  
In that it is abortive. Let thy love  
Appear to us in getting such another,  
That she may boast herself a happy Mother.   
C. G.   

To my friend the: Author.  

WEll writ; well plotted: why not acted then?  
Have th' actors judgement more than other men?  
Or is't their humour so to keep those under,  
Whose bays are known to be secure from thunder?  
Since all the world I dare be bold will say,  
Folly was guide when judgement lost its way:  
Yet each good wit to thee a sprig will bring,  
To crown thy Muse that doth so sweetly sing:  
Whilst others weakness ordering thy sad fate,  
Hath made themselves like her; Unfortunate.   
R. W.   

The Persons.  

MAcario. A young Duke of Ferrara.  
Infelici. Duchess Dowager.  
Corvino. Supposed Father to Spurio and Notho.  
Bonardo. Father to Fidelio and Amanda.  
Spurio. Favourite to the Duke.  
Notho. General returned victorious.  
Fidelio. Friend to Spurio, and lover of Melissa.  
Beneventi. Friend to Fidelio.  
Vittorio. Two Captains, friends to Notho. Polemici.  
Melissa. Daughter to Carvino.  
Amanda. In love with Spurio.  
Cardente. An old Groan; mother of the maids.  
Mutes. Lady's attendants.  
The Guard.   
The Scene the Court of Ferrara.   

THE Unfortunate Mother. A Tragedy.  

The first Act, and first Scene: The Scene being the Presence.  

Fidelio and  
Beneventi.   Beneventi. 
OUr Mourning's ended, and the Court again  
Looks like the Morning, when the Eastern air  
Is painted with a mixture of her blushes,  
And the sun's golden glory.  Fid. 
So it should:  
Great Princes Death's but like a short Eclipse  
Darken the Orbs they lighted, till another  
Spreads his succeeding beams: We have his son,  
As full of hope as ever promised state  
A happiness; and now he's risen, we  
Shall gaze, and glad ourselves as cheerfully  
In his warm favours, as in those, which time  
So lately dispossessed us of.  Ben. 
I shall not  
Court them with any flattery.  Fid. 
His temper  
Is virtuous, Beneventi: He'll admit  
Of no such practice; and his minion too,  
The noble Spurio, such a rare example  
Of a good great man.  Ben. 
That's your partiality,  
Because he is your friend.  Fid. 
Wrong not th' integrity  
Of what is real in me. By my hopes  
Of a fair memory, there's not a charm  
In greatness hath the Magic power to sway  
My reason with affection, but true merit,  
That binds me. I ne'er couched unto the humours  
Of any great one yet; or styled myself  
Th'admirer of his virtues, if they were not  
The true steps so his raising.  Ben. 
Sure the Duchess  
Affects him with a more than common favour;  
As if there were some secret interest  
That yet scapes public knowledge.  Fid. 
Be not jealous:  
'tis the rude people's vice. In our pure difference  
There should be nobler thoughts.  Ben. 
You love his sister.  Fid. 
Yes Beneventi: can my wishes covet  
A greater honour? The second Scene. Enter Spurio.  Ben. 
Here's your friend, the favourite:  
He'll pay his sister's portion in some Office  
Begged of the Duke; and with the Dowry which  
His Father gives her buy himself sweet pleasures;  
Or a new glorious wardrobe. How he stands?  
As if some frowns of the new Duke dejected him,  
And made him fear a fall.  Fid. 
thouart too severe  
And Cynical. This bitterness might move  
Another spleen: but prithee Beneventi  
Do not presume on privilege. A friend  
Shares so much of myself, he cannot suffer,  
But I am sensible by a consent  
And an affinity of parts.  Ben. 
I'll honour him  
At your commands.  Fid. 
My honoured Lord why thus? (To Spurio.  Spu. 
Fidelio, welcome to mine eyes; thy presence,  
Like Sunshine, hath illuminated my dark soul,  
Clouded with melancholy.  Fid. 
What's the cause?  
You flow in honours.  Spu. 
Oh Fidelio,  
Be not too curious: shouldst thou know my sufferings,  
Thy Physic cannot cure them. Beneventi!  Fid. 
My friend, my Lord.  Spu. 
Then mine. My friends must be (To Beneventi.  
Like Chains, the first link leads on his dependants.  
Instruct me how, then use me.  Ben. 
I shall study  
A grateful service.  Fid. 
Pray do not conceal  
What's your disturbance. By communicating  
You'll lessen something of the suffering,  
In making me partaker.  Spur. 
I shall add to't.  
We shall be like two neighbour buildings, when  
A flame proceeding from the one hath seized  
The others roof, it makes the burning greater.  
Friend let me suffer, be thou free.  Fid. 
Report,  
Perhaps, hath multiplied, and rumour's grown  
Pregnant with issue, that your noble brother  
Wants the success we hoped for.  Spu. 
Ha! my Brother!  
My brother's virtue doth command his fortune;  
The later waits upon the first, as slave's  
Act their Directors wills. No my Fidelio,  
A certain knowledge new's come to Court  
Of his sure victory, and his arrival  
Is suddenly expected, that it may  
Crown this days (yet unperfect) glory. Friend,  
My joys transport me, that I share in blood  
With one so worthy: But the peace that waits  
Upon his Conquest cannot stay the war The third Scene. Flourish. Enter Macario, Infelice, Corvino, Melissa, Ladies.  
That is within me.  Fid. 
Here's the Duke and Duchess,  
Compose yourself.  Maca. 
Grief, Madam, should be like  
A short Sea-storm; 'soon as a calmer air  
Hath smoothed the rugged waters, there's not seen  
The least impression which the former's rage  
Made on their even surface. I am still  
Your son in duty, as in blood; And though  
I share not in this out ward act of sorrow  
For my dead Father (since the mourning ceremonies  
Of Court should be prescribed to stricter limits  
Of time, than where th'affairs and men are private)  
His memory presents itself as fresh  
To every apprehension that assails me,  
As when his living precepts taught me how  
To be a Prince, by more than the election  
Of Fortune and my Birth: His virtues shall  
Be (as I hope) my soul's inheritance,  
Well as his dignities: I'll be directed  
By their examples.  Inf. 
Dear son (for my love  
Bids me make use of Nature's privilege,  
And leave out other titles) I have joys  
Greater within me, than those weak ones, which  
Only take life from the expression,  
And quickly die, the object once removed.  
Yet give me leave to temper them with mixture  
Of some sad thoughts, lest their excess may grow  
Into a danger, and a little taste  
Of contrarieties will whet the sense  
With a fresh appetite, preventing surfeits.  
My comforts swell, like a full tide, to see  
Thy growing state propped up with such advantages,  
As show it unto all men's expectations  
Int's future flourishing: A Counsel grave  
And wise as ever ordered policy  
From the best unresisted principles:  
Men, whose designs set down the acts success  
As positive as Oracles. Thy Spurio,  
Thy almost self; a man so rich in soul,  
And all her best dependencies, he gives  
Honour to greatness, by the noblest using  
Of a court-favourite's power, that ever yet  
Deserved a record. Next to him, thy Champion,  
His valiant brother; one, upon whose Plumes  
Victory danceth as they farm the air,  
Whispering the voice of Triumph. Thou art guarded  
With such a general loyalty in Subjects,  
That if thou slept'st amongst the multitude,  
Even when some rage possessed them, undefended  
With any Arms but that, th' imperfect slumber  
Need not be broken with a fear. Macario,  
These tears are tears of joy: and yet I cannot  
Choose but reflect upon those times that gave me  
Th' embraces of thy Noble Father.  Mac. 
Madam,  
The loss you suffer is repaired in me;  
I'll own no honours, nor delights of earth,  
But what my duty shall confer on you:  
Making your present greatness equal to  
The former without discontinuance:  
I will call nothing mine, more than a title,  
And ceremonious outside.  Cor. 
Would you'd please  
To take your seat, and give an audience  
To what I shall deliver.  Mac. 
Speak Corvino.  
Your Oratory hath power to draw attention,  
whate'er the subject be.  Cor. 
'Tis that that makes  
Language harmonious. 'Tis yourself, great sir,  
Both your own private and the public good  
Must be my Theme. In part it likewise hath  
Relation unto your eternity,  
For Princes never die that have fair issue.  
Your marriage sir.  Maca. 
I'm yet too young, Corvino.  Cor. 
You're old in judgement, and in all the parts  
That make a Prince up absolute. Too young!  
Some careful Parents (and such providence  
Might be a good example) in the childhood  
Of their loved sons, have made election  
Of hopeful beauties, that they might be sure  
To keep their names alive in their posterity.  
You are mature enough: now therefore know,  
Your dying Father (to whose memory  
We owe a reverence) when his fainting Spirits  
Laboured for help from all their weakened Organs,  
He breathed these last words: Let my Son (quoth he)  
Marry betimes; and if he makes his choice  
'Mongst his own subjects, let him place Melissa  
In his first thoughts.  Ben. 
Where is your honour now? (To Fidelio privately.  Cor. 
I do not urge it as she is my daughter,  
Through an ambition that affects such greatness:  
Sir, my desires are humble; and on those  
A safety waits, whose comfort I'll not lose  
For all the others flatteries.  Mac. 
Blush not Lady.  
If Fortune hath designed you for a Princess, To Melissa.  
The favour's worth the courting with a smile,  
And cheerful aspect, so't transport you not  
From a becoming duty.  Mel. 
Gracious Sir,  
My temper can admit of no desires (Kneels.  
Suit not with my condition. If it be  
Decreed by providence, I can obey,  
But never wish.  Mac. 
Rise lovely maid. (Riseth.  Fid. 
My Lord, (To Spurio in private.  
I'm lost to all the happiness that ever  
My hopes showed me a way to.  Spu. 
Have no fears:  
She's constant; and I'll soon divert the Duke,  
Even here in public.  Mac. 
Fair Melissa take  
Thy Princes grant.  Spu. 
Of what sir? Do not mock  
Your reason into error. You're a Prince  
And every act of yours concerns a state,  
Not your mere person only: what you do  
Must therefore deeply be considered on,  
Before your will allow it execution.  
Princes should wed with Princess: where there is  
An innate Majesty on both sides, that  
Well mixed, makes up an issue fit for rule,  
And the successive dignities. Besides,  
A State is strengthened: by alliance much:  
It may enlarge your Territories to,  
By times kind working. We have neighbour Princes,  
That gladly would bestow their Female heirs  
Upon your highness; and by such a choice,  
Your subjects with yourself might gain a happiness.  Mac. 
You, Spurio, counsel this?  Spu. 
He cannot own  
A duty worth your cherishing with favour,  
That will not urge it home.  Mac. 
She is your sister;  
And 'twould be some additions to your honours  
(Though they are many which your merits challenge)  
To see your sister graced with the high Title  
Of our great Duchess.  Spu. 
'T would be disadvantage  
To all that's good within me: For although  
No policy preserves my Actions  
Free from suspicion, but their own integrity,  
And that hath showed them clear without abuse  
Of favour or of power; yet if I were  
The brother of the Duchess, I should hardly  
Scape envy, where I now have love.  Mac. 
Brave spirit.  
Thy virtue moves me.  Ben. 
How his father frowns? To Fidelio privately.  
He's moved another way.  Spu. 
If you esteem it  
A virtue in me to suppress desires  
That bear me higher than the moderate pitch,  
Cherish it still, and do not with addition  
Of favours make me lose th'opinion  
Of being good in my prosperities:  
Such flatteries may tempt me to aspire;  
My flight holds even yet.  Mac. 
My dearest Spurio,  
How thou appear'st in this humility!  
Nor do I think it any counterfeit  
To whet my yet cold appetite. Her form,  
Though it be full of active fire, enough  
To move the dullest earth, wherein a soul  
Hath made its habitation, I not dote on:  
Nor will it prejudice your worth Metissa,  
In that your Prince refuseth you: Affection  
Must not guide us, but counsel.  Mel. 
You have done  
A justice unto me and your own honour:  
I shall be happy when my Virgin freedom  
May make an equal choice.  Mac. 
That choice shall want  
No honour we can give it. And dear Madam (To Infelice.  
yourself have youth enough and beauty yet  
T'admit a second fellowship: Elect  
Even where you please, our duty shall allow it:  
Virtue and judgement guide you.  Infe. 
I am happy in my unhappiness, that time hath left me  
A husband still; thy Father's memory  
Preserved in thee my Son: I know no widowhood  
Whilst wedded unto that.  Mac. 
Yet if hereafter  
You would at any time confer such honour,  
Let it be Lord Corvinos.  Spu. 
Ha! my father! To Fidelio privately.  
named he not him Fidelio?  Corv. 
To myself  
You show me my defects, by the fair light  
Of your too gracious and too great opinion;  
All the desert that I can have, must be  
Of your creating. Flourish.  Mac. 
These events shall be Exeunt Mac. Infe. Ladies, the rest remaining.  
Referred to time and providence  Corv. 
Son Spurio.  Ben. 
Now will he school his Son for being honest.  
'Tis an ambitious Lord, yet strives to hide it To Fidelio whispering.  
With politic hypocrisy.  Corv. 
Your Childhood  
Grew up to riper years in such obedience,  
As promised duty to me; how you should  
Decline that goodness from the hopes conceived  
Strikes me with wonder. Sure you were instructed,  
And taught to know men by the study of  
Their difference; and in what one may excel  
Another's being: Greatness is no vice  
That you should shun it, and your sister's honours  
Would neither have impaired yours, nor mine:  
'Tis not so dangerous caring to preserve  
Abundance, as to labour with necessity;  
And though it might be real temperance in you  
To shun so great additions, yet it showed  
Little obedience that you contradicted  
What I proposed.  Spu. 
Sir 'twas from your example,  
You urged it not as an ambition;  
If your desires were humble, mine were so:  
I prefer safety sir as well as you,  
Before the flattering dangers that are incident  
To th'other.  Coru. 
You have misinterpreted  
A modest fear, an absolute denial.  
Besides; how unbecoming 'tis t' accept  
A pressed consent with greediness; it argues  
Desire without desert: but since you are  
So nicely moral, by myself I will  
Advance myself. The Duchess bed will be  
An honour I ne'er thought of.  Spu. 
How sir! you  
Marry the Duchess?  Coru. 
Hath your greatness taught you  
To practise scorn on me? or are you swollen  
With an unnatural envy? I shall hatch  
Practices 'bove your reach; and teach your sister  
T'obey as well as love: 'tis not your humour  
But my command that must dispose of her:  
Nor will I ask your leave to have the Duchess.  
Be what you are, and keep your PRINCE's love:  
You've almost lost a father's. Exit.  Ben. 
How he stands? to Fidelio.  
Some wanton lobby Lady sure hath laid  
The issue of her pleasures to his charge;  
For which the old man chid him.  Fid. 
I much fear  
Part of the cause is mine.  Ben. 
Two hands in a dish,  
The right Court Ordinary.  Fid. 
Prithee be  
More serious. Why again dejected thus?  Spu. 
I have news for thee Fidelio.  Bene. 
Pay the Post.  Spu. 
Thou must not have my Sister.  Fid. 
Ha? 'tis horror.  Ben. 
Then 'tis not honour.  Spu. 
She must be disposed of.  Fid. 
How? for the Duke?  Spu. 
My father so resolves it.  Fid. 
Then I have lost—  Ben. 
just nothing.  Fid. 
Thou profanest  
A worth, that bids my justice punish thee.  Ben. 
She's nothing worth, nor to the purpose, if  
You have her not.  Fid. 
If there be more impart it.  Spu. 
I love the Duchess.  Fid. 
So do I your Sister.  Ben. 
And I love both.  Spv. 
How is that Beneventi?  
Love both?  Ben. 
Yes, both alike; that is, love neither.  Spu. 
My rival is my father.  Fid. 
Mine my Sovereign.  Ben. 
Then if I be your second against either,  
Let the Axe make me first a head less monster;  
And Surgeons next in public search my parts,  
To find where treason lay and patricide.  Spu. 
What Fates are we two subject to?  Ben. 
The worse  
If you attempt to better them.  Spu. 
Fidelio,  
We will consult a little; I have had  
Grounds for strong hopes, I'll not be flattered by them;  
But work with policy. There is within me  
A war twixt love and duty: one must be  
Destroyed to quit and set the other free. Exeunt.   

The Second Act and first Scene. The Scene being the Duchess Chamber.  

A Table etc.  
Infaelice,  
Amanda,  
Melissa and  
Cardente.   Infe. 
AManda you look sickly, you were wont  
To wear a lovely blush upon your cheek,  
Such as no Art can counterfeit: your eyes  
Were the Court Stars, at which the amorous gallants  
Lighted their flames: who but Amanda famed  
For beauty, and a liveliness of spirit;  
Your colour's earthy now, your mind unactive:  
Nor can such accidents without a cause  
Show their effects. I wish it were communicated.  
Unto our knowledge.  Card. 
Madam, it is nothing  
But eating Salads, Oatmeal, and green fruits,  
She hath got the loving Chambermaid's disease:  
On my virginity that's it, she must  
Be steeled to th'purpose.  Infe. 
I believe they are  
Some passions rather.  Card. 
Certainly that's it:  
Madam she reads Arcadia's, amoretta's;  
And will discourse this lady's love and that  
So sadly, that the faces in the hangings  
Seem to have sense and weep: I'm sure I cannot  
Forbear when I remember it.  Am. 
'Tis strange,  
Your reverend Ladyship hath so much moisture;  
Sure you preserved your tears, and wasted none  
When you were young, to th'end you might express  
yourself now tender-hearted: What sweet Courtier  
But would esteem those tears and make them bracelets?  
Their toughness will endure the stringing.  Infe. 
So, so;  
Be lightsome still.  Card. 
And jeer my age, that hath  
Given you counsel; which observed, would keep  
Your heart from aching, and your lungs from sighs:  
You ne'er would cry aye me, that love, but cannot  
Be loved again.  Infe. 
Is she in love Cardente?  Card. 
That's it upon my Maidenhead.  Ama. 
An oath,  
Of great antiquity; the Cavaliers  
Used it before the battle of Lepanto.  Card. 
Used what? my Maidenhead?  Meli. 
You would have it construed  
In that best sense.  Card. 
You're very witty Ladies,  
To play on my decays; I could have done  
As well as you: but now have graver thoughts.  Am. 
The Grave is that best fits them.  Card. 
Well Amanda,  
You may again want counsel; when you do  
I wish some cough may seize me, or the want  
Of my fore teeth make my speech so imperfect,  
You may not understand it.  Meli. 
Very likely;  
You need not wish it.  Infe. 
They are wags Cardente,  
But for your mirth Amanda 'tis affected;  
Your soul I do believe retains its sadness,  
Reveal it, and I'll aid thee in the cure.  Ama. 
Madam I gladly would give satisfaction  
Unto your grace's curiosity,  
So that it might not prejudice fair truth:  
To say I'm sick, were a dissimulation:  
If well, you'll not believe it.  Card. 
How? you well?  
When your complexion's like the queen of Spades;  
Or like a painting wrought in the first colour;  
Or like a withered blossom, or a—  Ama. 
Hold  
Good Lady Simile; Or like your Monkey  
When he wants Spiders; the poor beast looks scurvily,  
And not unlike your Ladyship.  Card. 
Well, well;  
I still must bear with youth.  Ama. 
If a distemper,  
Or a disease that's crept into my blood  
Renders me now less beautiful, then lately  
The flatteries of some esteemed me; must it  
Conclude my mind is sick?  Infe. 
Enough Amanda,  
Yet still I must suspect; when you're alone To Card. privately.  
Perhaps she will reveal it. Exit.  Card. 
That's it Madame,  
We maids will chat so prettily alone;  
You did not well Amanda to abuse me  
Before the Duchess: other Ladies would not  
Have served me so, and there are few in Court  
But would make use of what you slight; my counsel:  
I have been versed in things that might advantage  
Your restitution.  Amb. 
Unto what good Lady?  Card. 
Your health, your mind; your wits.  Ama. 
Why doth your reverence  
Think I am mad?  Card. 
A little loving frenzy.  Mel. 
Delude her importunity with some slight, To Amanda privately.  
she'll be a trouble else.  Card. 
Pray think not Ladies  
This age of mine hath not attained some knowledge  
From observation. There have been few passages  
In Court which I have not been privy too.  
Lady's have fall'n and risen; and their timpanies  
Have been cured with as secret carriage,  
As e'er was practised by a suburb Midwife:  
I have had plots to save a Lady's honour.  Ama. 
She hath given me an occasion. To Melissa privately.  Mel. 
Ply it home,  
we'll raise some mirth from melancholy.  Card. 
Come,  
You must not be reserved.  Ama. 
Might I presume  
You would be secret.  Card. 
How? suspect Amanda?  
By my virginity  Mel. 
I do believe  
That Oath will ne'er be broken.  Card. 
Why Melissa?  
I have been known and known these fifty years,  
My age hath seen Lords turn cast Ladies of  
Unto their Pages, and preferment follow;  
I have known secrets too, and kept them secret  
Without any Oath. Is't coming yet?  Ama. 
'Tis almost  
At my tongue's end: but shame—  Card. 
A fig for shame.  Ama. 
Perhaps 'tis something cannot be expressed  
In modest Language.  Card. 
Then I must interpret,  
And now I see that's it.  Mel. 
That! what Cardente?  Card. 
Yes, yes; 'tis so: your eye, your noses sharpness:  
And here's a sign.  Mel. 
Of Virgo I dare swear.  Card. 
Of Gemini: You're subject to strange qualms,  
Are you not Lady? dare you wear a busk?  
Are you not quick? methinks it kicks on both sides:  
You have been at it to some purpose.  Ama. 
she  
Interprets right Melissa.  Card. 
I can do it.  
She's not the first at Court hath had a clap,  
And let it be my charge to save her honour;  
Even the Duchess self—  Mel. 
How's that Cardente?  Card. 
Tut I know secrets.  Ama. 
And you'll reveal them.  
How have I fooled myself into a misery,  
Prevention cannot free me from? committing  
A secret of such consequence to one  
Will make my shame the pastime of the Court  
By her discovery.  Card. 
No such matter Lady,  
Doubt not a close conveyance; yet I wish  
You had revealed it sooner: Physic then  
Might have done much.  Ama. 
You'll aid me then Cardente  
In the concealment?  Card. 
I'll not tell the Duchess.  Mel. 
But I will.  Card. 
What sweet Lady?  Mel. 
What a creature  
Warms herself in her bosom, a Court Bawd;  
A cloth of tissue centinel.  Ama. 
An old coal  
Raked up in counterfeited sanctity:  
Thou credulous piece of wickedness, didst think  
If any wanton forwardness had led me  
To such a sin as looseness, I would suffer  
The knowledge of't pass from me? and especially  
To one suspected for a wicked agent  
In those base practises, but now discovered.  Card. 
What will you bait me Ladies?  Mel. 
Yes, and worry thee;  
Thou mother of the maids! thouart fitter far  
To be the Madam regent of the stews,  
Nay we'll dissect thee.  Am. 
And before the Duchess  
Lay open all.  Card. 
Nay then farewell sweet Ladies. Exit.  Mel. 
She's gone, and we are free, and now Amanda  
Let lose thy thoughts; for all are here imprisoned  
Thou shalt command releasement.  Am. 
Oh Melissa  
I love thy brother, and my virgin flame  
Grows every hour more violent.  Mel. 
Oh Amanda  
I love thy brother, and my virgin flame  
Grows every hour more violent.  Am. 
You mock me  
With echoing back my words.  Mel. 
I speak a truth  
Although with blushes: If your anguish grow  
From that sweet passion, how our even states  
Hang in the balance?  Am. 
All my hopes are lost,  
In that the Duchess favours him so much;  
My jealousies can point no other end out,  
Than their uniting in that fellowship  
My wishes covet.  Mel. 
Have not I like doubts?  
The Duke rivals Fidelio; and my father  
Urgeth unwilling honours, which my fears  
Dare not attempt to reach at. I had rather  
Sleep in the sweet embraces of thy brother,  
Then be advanced to greatness that will make me  
The object of men's envy. 2 Scene. Enter Infelice, Corvino, Car lent.  Am. 
Here's the Duchess,  Inf. 
we'll hear you straight Corvino. Fie Amanda,  
Have all your seeming virtues lost themselves  
In one foul stain?  Am. 
Madam let me prevent  
Th' abusing of your faith: my honour suffers  
In nothing but a counterfeit of that,  
With which I mocked her curiosity,  
That else refused all satisfaction;  
And in't betrayed herself to the discovery  
Of such an inclination, as to think on't  
Renews the blushes which you say my cheeks  
So late have lost.  Card. 
Nay, Madam, I made show  
Of any thing that might discover her:  
Told her I had been privy to such cases,  
And many a Lady's fall.  Inf. 
Enough Cardente.  
But let not such things be your sport hereafter.  
Jealousy is a spirit which once raised,  
Will hardly be commanded down again;  
And honour is a substance too too nice  
To play withal  Am. 
I dare expose myself  
To th' trial of her jury.  Inf. 
Urge no more;  
You are believed Amanda. Now my Lord (To Corvino.  
We give you hearing.  Cor. 
Madam, I would whisper  
The secrets of my soul.  Infe. 
Withdraw Cardente. (The Lady's retire.  Corv. 
Madam, if ought appear an error in me,  
Condemn it not with too severe a sentence,  
Till I have pleaded my excuse. I love you:  
The general graces of your mind and person,  
In this my settled age hath raised high flames:  
Which cherished by your favour will preserve me,  
Or quite consume me, if they waste themselves  
In your disdain. The disproportion  
We wear in outward titles, makes me fear  
You will refuse consent: and yet I hope  
(Not urging the Duke's favour) you'll allow  
My suit consideration, and your answer.  Inf. 
My Lord Corvino you have honoured me  
In your opinion; putting such a gloss  
On my defects, that I appear more worthy  
Than really I am. My age is subject  
To those decays, that render the unfit  
For amorous delights.  Corv. 
Your beauty, Madam,  
Is in that freshness yet, that were I warmed  
In your fair bosom, all the frost that hangs  
Upon these hairs would quickly be dissolved,  
And a new spring of liveliness and strength  
Quicken this cold and passive earth that holds,  
An Icy soul within it. You'd restore me  
To my best youth again.  Infe. 
This love hath taught you  
The long neglected practice of your Courtship:  
Forbear it, good my Lord, my griefs are yet  
Unapt for flattery.  Corv. 
Then give me leave  
To speak in plainness my desires, that are  
You would admit me to your sweet embraces  
In lawful fellowship. You'd satisfy  
My longing passions, and your son's request,  
And pay those services that I have done you;  
Which some might but myself dare not presume  
To call desert.  Infe. 
Your faithful servants  
Have been rewarded with degrees of honour,  
And I expect your gratitude. I never  
Discovered such ambition in your temper,  
Which always seemed to level its just aim  
At fair equality. Then good my Lord  
Consider your attempts, and how they make  
Your virtues much suspected.  Corv. 
If you dare  
Call it a pride that I seek such addition,  
Know there's no substance now depends upon  
Your empty title which can make a difference,  
But I will reconcile it by my merit,  
I am not so inferior to be checked;  
Nor weak in power, but that I can revenge  
A scorn that is dishonourable.  Infe. 
Do not  
Add to your ills Corvino. This had sense  
As if it did imply you would not owe  
A Duty to me now: or that you meant  
Some treacherous discovery. Take heed  
Of base ingratitude, 'twill slain your fame  
(which good men call their life) with such a Leprosy,  
As time can never cleanse it from.  Corv. 
I then  
Must count myself refused.  Infe. 
Yes for a husband.  
I must prepare for heaven: Nor shall I ever  
Admit of new desires whilst the loved memory  
Of my dead Lord presents itself.  Corv. 
Your Pardon.  
Only you may consider, 'twas his will  
Melissa should be Dutchess.  Infe. 
Not without  
The free election of my son, who now  
Leaves it to time and counsel. Thus you still  
Show your ambition. Dearest Spurio welcome, The third Seen Enter Spurio.  
Let us go take the air.  Corv. 
Your graces leave  
To have some conference with him.  Infe. 
When 'tis ended  
Attend us in the garden. Exeunt Infe. Card. Aman.  Corv. 
Stay Melissa  
Son I would urge your duty to reveal  
What 'tis disturbs you. I by observation  
Have noted odd expressions in your looks,  
Your words, and actions, since the late Duke's death,  
That argue there's within some strange distemper  
Of your best parts, counsel must rectify.  
I challenge from my interest the will  
And power to give it.  Spu. 
How can I discover  
What I yet know no? you must satisfy  
yourself, and your own suppositions,  
Even by yourself. If you have framed conjectures  
From any outward Characters that may  
Express an inward perturbation,  
Propose and I'll reveal it.  Corv. 
You are in love.  Spu. 
I have desires, I must confess, but temper them  
With a discreet respect to their best end:  
Nor do I suffer any to flame out  
In violent passions.  Corv. 
But they are directed  
To one peculiar object; that's the Duchess,  
Is it not so?  Spu. 
My breeding and Religion  
Permit me not to lie: sir 'tis a truth;  
And you may call it virtuous if you please:  
But duty which you challenge from me checks it.  
I neither dare nor will plead any right  
Where you are interested.  Corv. 
I assign it all,  
She hath o'er thrown my cause with such a scorn  
As burns me into rage; witness ye powers  
That guide our not to be resisted fates,  
How far she's banished from my thoughts.  Spu. 
You have sir  
Breathed a new soul of comfort into me;  
I'll freely now solicit for myself,  
And try success.  Corv. 
'Twill show of youthful rashness,  
Can you ground any hopes?  Spu. 
From circumstance  
I can; but none with which I will be flattered:  
The honours which she hath conferred upon me  
Are Arguments she loves me; her salutes  
Are always dear or dearest.  Corv. 
Yet you must not.  
Marry this Duchess.  Spu. 
How, will you oppose it?  
You then are swollen with an unnatural envy.  Corv. 
No more, I must dispose you.  Spu. 
I'll obey.  
But yet I beg you sir temper your power  
With mild command, and deep consideration:  
Think on the Duchess.  Corv. 
Think upon Melissa.  Spu. 
What of my sister sir?  Corv. 
She is a beauty  
That might invite desire, and crown the bed  
Of any Prince with happiness. Look on her,  
And make her thy election.  Spu. 
Mine! for what?  Corv. 
A Wife.  Spu. 
Defend ye better influences,  
No such incestuous dream could e'er possess  
My wantonest, slumber.  Cor. 
'Tis not so incestuous  
As that thy inconsiderateness attempted:  
Resolve to take her, and by all my hopes  
Of blessed eternity, I will not only  
Justify that for lawful, but salute thee  
Ferrara's lawful Duke.  Spu. 
What riddle's this?  
Give it solution.  Corv. 
First resolve to be  
What I have promised. Exit.  Spu. 
Good sir leave me not  
Confounded with amazement: are not you  
My Father sir? or who must own me? Sister,  
Is there ought in your knowledge that may satisfy  
My doubtful thoughts? must I not call you sister?  
Or what's that greater incest I would have  
Committed? Can the Duchess be my mother?  
An Aunt's less than a sister?  Mel. 
Dearest brother,  
My knowledge owns no secret which I would not  
As freely make you master of as wish  
myself a happiness: I must confess  
My mother oft hath told me that you were not  
The issue of her Womb.  Spu. 
There's half the riddle 4 Scene. Enter Fidelio, Beneventi.  
Unfolded yet.  Fid. 
My Lord your valiant brother  
This instant is arrived, t'enrich the Court  
With his full glories: all men court his victory  
With such a praise, it stains his manly cheeks  
With modest blushes. He expects your visit.  Spu. 
I know no brother.  Fid. 
How my Lord? your virtue.  
Will suffer by suspicion if'y express  
yourself or proud or envious,  Spu. 
Melissa,  
I cannot satisfy your father's Will,  
Though all were cleared that darks the reasons of it:  
Be still Fidelios. Exit.  Ben. 
What the devil ails him?  
His passions are as various as his clothes;  
He shifts them daily: only keeps one fashion,  
And one sad garb.  Fid. 
Are you acquainted with  
Any events that have relation  
Unto your brother's melancholy?  Mel. 
Some I am,  
But urge not their discovery.  Fid. 
I obey  
whatever you command; and hope my services  
Will shortly be rewarded.  Mel. 
Take th'assurance  
Of my resolves and promise.  Ben. 
Trifle not  
With courtship now: let's think on bouncing compliments  
To bid the Soldiers welcome.  Fid. 
To the presence,  
There is their entertainment. We shall see  
What different things Courtiers and Soldiers be. Exeunt.   

The third Act and first Scene. The Scene being the presence.  

Bonardo,  
Cardente and  
Fidelio.   Non. 
DId she reveal't herself Candente to you?  
Or else do you conclude it from some circumstance?  
In such a cause I would not have credulity  
Mock itself into error.  Card. 
'Twas my Lord  
Her own confession; yet before the Duchess  
She doth pretend 'twas only an intent  
To mock my curiosity: but I fear  
It is too sad a truth.  Bon. 
To me most sad,  
Mine age grows fast upon me; and to have  
A stain thrown now upon our House, by one  
So eminent in all appearancies  
Of good, it makes my wishes haste to meet  
The sweet peace of my grave: but yet Cardente  
I am not easy to believe.  Card. 
Nor I.  
There may be other causes why a Lady  
Of her pure constitution should be subject  
To qualms and puling.  Bon. 
Is she not in love?  Card. 
That may be it my Lord, and if you could  
Discover who the man is.  Bon. 
Would that help  
To clear suspicion?  Card. 
All would straight appear  
In its full truth; her stain, or innocence;  
For thus my Lord. I know the inclinations  
Of all the Gallants; which are Goats, which Eunuchs:  
Now if she doth love any forward youth,  
One that will thrust his Knife into the meat  
Before he hath said grace (you can apply it)  
'tis so; if not, so.  Fid. 
My Italian nature  
Begins to break her prison, and grow violent;  
I'll force her sir to tell me.  Bon. 
Use no threats,  
But mild persuasions; such as may become  
The place: and urge them home before the presence  
Fills with more number. Here she is. 2 Scene. Enter Amanda.  Card. 
Pray Heaven  
He do not stab her.  Fid. 
Sister are y' in health?  Am. 
I know not brother, would you'd ask a Doctor,  
A skilful one that hath proved more men mortal,  
Than a corrupted Vintage, or French Duels:  
If such a learned man's inspection can  
Tell the disease which many think I have,  
But am not sensible thereof myself.  Fid. 
You slight my question.  Am. 
Sure it doth deserve  
No better answer. How do I appear  
To every curious eye that undertakes  
The reading of my inside? sure that Lady  
Hath made you jealous.  Fid. 
There's a stain Amanda  
Thrown on you by suspicion, on your honour;  
Nothing but blood, or a fair satisfaction  
Can wash it off.  Am. 
I thought some such fine thing  
Had mocked your credulous weakness. Blush to think  
You own so low a soul as to suspect  
Her whom your love calls sister; though detraction  
Spoke with a hundred tongues, and muttered circumstance  
To make it probable,  Fid. 
Your confidence  
Carries the greater show of guilt.  Am. 
Of guilt!  
Should you present all tortures tyranny  
Did e'er invent: I have no fears can make me  
Belie mine innocence, though it might free me  
From all their suffering.  Fid. 
This doth show more like  
The violence of a distempered passion,  
Than will to satisfy. 'Twas never yet  
Read in the story of our Ancestors,  
Any least blemish stuck upon our house.  
And if you have transgressed, the knowledge of it  
Will point us out a way to just revenge,  
Or to an honourable recompense;  
And so preserve our yet unsullied fames  
Clear to posterity.  Am. 
This circumvention  
Is of so strange and intricate a nature,  
I know not how to free myself, but by  
Mine own just testimony. Brother know  
Your best prepared devotions are not purer  
Than my worst thoughts; their ends being always noble  
When I have had desires.  Fid. 
Not to have some,  
Indeed were more than wonder: such a Lady  
As you are sister, pampered with the fulness  
Of Court delights, not to elect some one  
Preferred in her esteem, were such a paradox,  
Not all your learning can maintain.  Am. 
Suppose  
I should confess to whom mine are directed;  
He's one that you dare not suspect, much less  
Accuse of such a sin that is so far from  
His virtuous inclination.  Fid. 
I am glad  
Your love can give him such a Character.  
To know him might advance your desires,  
Provided they be honourable.  Am. 
Brother  
You seem to hedge me in with studied cunning.  
But I can give myself a liberty  
By naming him you'd know. I do affect  
Your friend Lord Spurio.  Fid. 
He the man hath done it?  Am. 
Done what? your jealousy is weak, and grounded  
Upon too nice a fear; and only propped  
With her slight information.  Fid. 
Stay, stay Sister;  
There's something more: Did not you once pretend  
You had a powerful interest in his Sister  
That might command me a success with her?  Am. 
And you interpret it.  Fid. 
Nothing good Sister,  
But one thing for another.  Am. 
Hug your error,  
And cherish it until it sting your bosom:  
Your threats shall not enforce another answer  
Though the place had no privilege.  Fid. 
Enough  
Good Sister; I am satisfied.  Am. 
Will you sir (To Bonardo.  
Cherish my duty with a faith?  Bon. 
Of what?  Am. 
What that bad woman hath accused me of,  
Is false as any fabulous Deity Bono. and Fidelio whisper.  
Ascribed to wicked mortal.  Card. 
Nay good Lady,  
If any grounded fear hath raised suspicion,  
Truth ought to be discovered; if it were,  
We then would make provision of some Villa,  
Some pretty Country house, under pretence  
That air's most wholesome for you.  Am. 
Would thou wert  
Without that noiseful instrument of speech;  
Or all thy hearers deaf. But that her virtues  
Carry their perfect lustre, I should almost  
Suspect the Duchess, for conferring favour  
Upon so vile a woman. Exit.  Bon. 
Practice it. (To Fidelio. 3 Scene. Enter Polemici, Vittorio, A Lady and Beneventi.  
'twill be a perfect trial.  Fid. 
Here's Vittorio,  
And brave Polemici, that are returned  
With the triumphing Notho.  Bon. 
I embrace ye;  
You're welcome home to peace, Salute.  Vit. 
We thank your Lordship.  Ben. 
'Tis down right compliment; we Soldiers  
Are sparing of our words my Lord: blows chiefly  
Are our discourse.  Pole. 
We Courtiers Beneventi  
Can talk, but seldom fight.  Bon. 
That hit you home. To Beneventi.  Ben. 
How dare you offer to salute the Ladies,  
Before you've shifted shirts? sure your Camp laundress  
Never perfumed your linen.  Pole. 
Had you been  
There Beneventi, 'twould have made your linen  
Soon want perfuming.  Card. 
soldiers do not use To Beneventi.  
Other perfumes than match and Gunpowder.  Ben. 
Were you converted into it Cardente,  
You'd sweeten their Buff-jerkins.  Lady. 
Were I Gunpowder  
I'd blow you up.  Pole. 
You take your servants part.  Ben. 
You serve a Lady! Ladies should serve you  
For your good service to the Duke and State:  
Oh the men's heads that you cut off, Polemici!  Pole. 
The Maidenheads you purchased in our absence!  
Many a Suburb agent is enriched by't;  
Though to the loss of your own state and conscience:  
Ingeniously confess your chief employment.  Ben. 
We feign ourselves as virtuous as the Duke,  
And are as chaste at Court as withered Eunuchs:  
But when we are at liberty abroad,  
Ease and high feeding cannot hold out long:  
Then to't like Monkeys Captain. Sure yourselves  
Do piddle now and then with Suttlers wives;  
And are content to praise their tanned complexions  
For most rich beauties: whilst we Courtiers  
Ravish delights from lips that taste of Nectar,  
And think ourselves in Heaven.  Pole. 
Whilst we Soldiers  
After a tedious match, are forced to make  
The earth our bed without a Pillow, sheets,  
Or silver warming-pan; start from our sleep  
At every sound the airs light motion makes,  
Thinking it an alarm: Return from fight  
Smeared o'er with blood and sweat, and savourly  
Take the refreshment of a troubled water;  
Whose muddy streams our Horses would scarce taste  
But for necessity: fast till our guts  
Contract themselves so close they will scarce hold  
The full digestion of one Lark.  Ben. 
Good Captain  
No more of this discourse; it mortifies me:  
But now the Wars are ended, you'll turn Courtier!  
'Tis quickly learned.  Pole. 
You have instructed me,  
Dissemble first an imitation  
Of the Duke's virtues; feed high, and be lazy;  
Next lecherous: is't not so?  Ben. 
A great proficient,  
You'll quickly take Degrees.  Pole. 
In the last School  
We shall outstrip you Courtiers; for observe  
If any one of you should rival us,  
And dare to intercept our pleasures, we  
Can beat you Beneventi, mark me, beat you;  
And sure the Duke would give us pensions for it,  
To keep your Goat-ships honest.  Lady. 
Witty Soldier,  
He fits you at all weapons.  Ben. 
Yours, the tongue;  
But that it wants some of your woman's length:  
he'd hit you otherwise. 4 Scene. Flourish Enter Macario, Infelice, Notho, Spurio, Corvino, Amanda, Melissa & Ladies  Bon. 
Peace thus plays with war,  
And makes it pastime.  Fid. 
Here's the noble Conqueror.  Mac. 
Welcome again into our bosom Soldier.  
we'd have you now leave action, and apply  
Your ready will to entertain and manage  
The honours we intend you, as rewards  
Due to your valour and success: you have  
Settled our peace at home by the subversion  
Of all our neighbouring enemies, and now  
'Tis fit you share a full proportion  
Of all you laboured for, that we in ease  
And softness might securely please our senses;  
And know no sufferings more than what are incident  
To every prince, our cares: those lessoned too  
By our grave Counsels industry. I wish  
You would move something from your own desires,  
That granted might be valued by yourself:  
We should be free.  Not. 
Ambition never touched me.  
If I have done an act hath gained allowance  
In popular opinion, let not flattery  
Court it with too much praise. These ought to share;  
And every common soldier well as I:  
I but directed what they executed.  
Let your rewards sir, smile upon their wants,  
For sure our victory brought much more honour  
Than profit home: nor could I think it less  
Than tyranny to slave men being conquered,  
And force them buy their liberty; though in policy  
And custom 'tis allowed both safe and honourable.  
Cherish their valour sir, and the example  
Will (when your need requires it) arm the hearts  
Of others with like forwardness.  Mac. 
we give  
The spoils to be distributed, and pension  
To every soldier; and unto thyself—  
I know not what: considerate judgements must.  
Allow the gift a worth before I offer it.  
Embrace you two whilst I embrace ye both.  
Why doth my Spurio frown upon his brother?  
Can his clear soul give entertainment to  
Neglect or envy? such a glorious pair  
To suffer an Eclipse.  Spu. 
Your victory  
And person both are welcome.  Not. 
Both must serve you.  Inf. 
Dear valiant Notho, now you have put off  
The rough abiliments of War, pray wear  
These ornaments for my sake. Gives him jewels.  Not. 
They are favours.  
An Eastern Monarch might be proud of Madam:  
A Mine could not have made your servant richer  
In's own esteem.  Card. 
Trust me the Soldier speaks  
Excellent Courtship Ladies. Those rich jewels  
Will be yours shortly; and I would advise you  
Not to refuse them upon any terms  
When they are offered.  Inf. 
Your deserts require Give Vitt. and Polem. jewels.  
Some due acknowledgement.  Pole. 
These Madam are  
Bounties above them.  Mac. 
Do not you my Lord To Corvino.  
Conceive strange joys, to see so fair an issue  
Make your age happy?  Corv. 
'Tis a happiness  
For which I owe Heaven thanks.  Ben. 
What think you Captain? To Polemici.  
You seldom found such spoils in a pied Knapsack.  
Do you know how to use them?  Pole. 
Not as you do,  
Like Children; play with them.  Ben. 
You'll pawn them rather?  Pole. 
That I believe you use.  Mac. 
we'll have some revels,  
'Tis fit that Soldiers sometimes should have rest,  
And taste the Courts delights.  Ben. 
You'll find there's difference  
Betwixt a Courtier and a Soldier Captain.  Pole. 
There's much.  Ben. 
How much?  Pole. 
As much as is betwixt  
A good sword and a Fiddlestick.  Ben. 
But how  
Do you apply them?  Pole. 
That unto myself  
I best know how to use.  Mac. 
we'll first thank Heaven,  
And then we'll see some maskery. This day  
we'll honour with solemnities. Exeunt.  Spu. 
With me sir? Flourish, Spu. Not. Fid. Ben. Vitto. and Polemici remaining.  Not. 
Brother.  Spu. 
Forget that name; it must be lost  
To both our memories.  Not. 
Sure mine preserves not  
The least impression of an injury  
I ever did you, that might justly challenge  
Th' acquaintance of that Title. Others look  
Upon my fortune with respectful smiles;  
You either scorn or envy it.  Spu. 
I do neither;  
But there are secrets which my knowledge cannot  
Yet comprehend, till time makes more discoveries:  
If it appear then you are not my brother,  
Say not it was my fault.  Not. 
I would you give me  
A fuller satisfaction.  Spu. 
When I can  
I will not be reserved.  Not. 
I know not what  
Your words imply, unless you'll call me bastard;  
And that hath danger in't. No privilege  
Of nature, or respects unto the greatness  
Favour hath raised you to—  Spu. 
he's here can satisfy. 5 Scene. Enter Corvino.  Cor. 
Will you yet wed Melissa?  Spu. 
Never sir;  
I would you'd clear my doubts.  Cor. 
Oh never sir,  
Till you perform that act.  Spu. 
My ignorance  
And innocence shall then preserve me safe;  
There may be danger in the knowledge of it:  
Hence forth I'll not be curious. Exeunt Spurio, Fide. Beneventi.  Not. 
Sir, my duty  
That taught me humble knees, and an obedience  
Is somewhat staggered; something hath begot  
A jealousy within me, that I ought not  
Pay them to you: but still my virtuous reason  
Doth fight against that sin.  Cor. 
What mean you Notho?  Not. 
My brother sir, or Spurio (for the name  
Of brother he refuseth) says we are not  
The issue of one blood.  Cor. 
It was a folly,  
And inconsiderate rashness to betray  
Himself to so much hazard.  Not. 
Sir, the knowledge  
Would settle my disturbances, and make  
Again that duty perfect, which yet doubts  
To whom it owes itself.  Cor. 
Those words of his  
Might be interpreted; and I confess  
My wanton youth had much unlawful issue:  
Of which perhaps he's one.  Not. 
My lawfulness  
Had then first privilege to take exception:  
I must not now own him.  Cor. 
Yes; for my love  
Is equal to you both.  Not. 
In that you are  
Unjust to the deserts of my dead mother;  
And th' Honoured family whence she derived  
Her blood and virtues.  Cor. 
It becomes not you  
To tax my partial humour, since yourself  
Is equally unlawful.  Not. 
You have awed me,  
'Twas not my sin; and thus my duty begs Kneels.  
The public knowledge may not be my shame.  Cor. 
That shall not stain, thy fame stains not thy conscience:  
And tell me Notho, dar'st be great?  Not. 
Ile be  
What fortune or my reason prompts me to,  
If warranted for lawful.  Cor. 
Dar'st be Duke?  Not. 
Forbid it loyalty.  Cor. 
'Tis in my power  
To make thee justly so.  Not. 
If't be my right,  
There's no attempt that can have danger in't  
Enough to fright me.  Cor. 
Shall't attempt no danger:  
The prosecution shall be politic  
And safe. But first thou must resolve to do  
What I command thee.  Not. 
Speak it.  Cor. 
Wed Melissa.  Not. 
Did ever father yet command his Children  
To be incestuous! is your reason perfect?  
This shows distraction.  Cor. 
All depends upon it;  
And Heaven knows 'tis lawful: Therefore be  
Sudden in thy resolves. Exit.  Not. 
What fit hath seized him?  Pole. 
The lady's eyes have shot some wanton fire  
Into his heart: my Lord.  Not. 
Polemici  
I have heard wonders, and your bosoms shall  
Partake the secret, so you'll keep it safe:  
'Tis of high consequence.  Pole. 
They are the same  
Safe Closets you have trusted.  Not. 
You'd not envy me  
If I were Duke.  Pole. 
We should not sure unless  
It made you proud.  Not. 
But dare your valours aid me  
In the design?  Pole. 
Why what disloyal devil  
Hath put these thoughts into you? have we saved  
Our throats from cutting by the enemy  
To feel the hangman's Axe? why how dare you  
Cherish such vain ambition? if you should  
Marry the Duchess, she must have no son first:  
And then 'tis doubtful whether the election  
Will be conferred on you. There are more worthies  
That hold as good opinion in the state.  Not. 
But say it be my rig  Pole. 
I never studied  
Your Genealogy so much, to find  
How there might be relation; if there's any  
Let it appear.  Not. 
You shall know more hereafter;  
Strange mysteries in fortunes hidden lie,  
Cannot be judged of by a common eye.  Exeunt.  

The Fourth Act and first Scene. The Scene being the Gallery.  

Spurio and  
Fidelio.   Fid. 
'TIs an unkindness thus to be reserved,  
And hide the causes of your discontent:  
The privilege of friendship should be larger;  
And not confined to any weak respects  
That bound its limits. I should not conceal  
My secretest sins from you, but for the scandal.  Spu. 
Fidelio, I am lost in such a mist  
Of doubts and error, all my reasons faculties  
Cannot instruct my knowledge how to find  
A way that leads to truth,  Fid. 
If any counsel  
My weak abilities can aid you with  
May be thought useful—  Spu. 
Urge it not Fidelio;  
To know and not to remedy increaseth  
The suffering more.  Fid. 
My love would not interpret  
Neglect or jealousy to be the cause  
Of these expressions; if you do suspect it,  
I then may ground a fear you have declined  
Your wonted purity: and through the guilt  
Of some foul act makes shame o'er sway your reason,  
You do enforce your blushing soul to be  
Th' unwilling prison of so vile an evil  
You dare not give it liberty.  Spu. 
This is  
Such an extreme Fidelio, I should rather  
Admit of flattery then to be taxed thus.  
Time and your nearness to me might have taught  
Your knowledge, something by observing me,  
And how my courses tended: There was never  
The coarseness in my humour, that it pleased me  
To hear myself commended: but the life  
Of honour being wounded by detraction,  
Or any false aspersion, 'twere a sin  
Equal to guilt should I neglect to cure it  
By any testimony; though it forced me  
To Praise myself, above all the degrees  
Of moderation: Therefore good Fidelio  
Neither be partial to me, nor let weakness  
Interpret any private act of mine  
From common rumour: such an even temper  
Would make our friendship lasting.  Fid. 
I my Lord  
Think you so far from being vicious,  
Your scruples scarce allow those virtues in you  
A merit, which to us might be examples.  Spu. 
I meant you no such privilege.  Fid. 
Believe it,  
I will not flatter you; for sure you have  
Some easy faults, that will admit th' excuse  
Of frailty: such as love.  Spu. 
Is Love a sin then?  Fid. 
Yes, when it burns with a corrupted flame;  
And lights desire to what is sensual only,  
Without regard of aught that makes our difference  
The most refined and perfect in its nature:  
Beasts have their lust.  Spu. 
I almost understand you,  
But sure you dare not think me forward that way;  
Your error were not friendly: neither is there  
A Lady so neglected: she would court  
My shallow worth, or yield if she were courted.  Fid. 
There is that Magic in your masculine graces,  
Th'have charmed the beauty of the Court to love you:  
And 'tis arrived my knowledge.  Spu. 
What's that beauty?  
Instruct my ignorance.  Fid. 
Amanda sir,  
And though she be my sister, I do give her  
No attribute, fame and the general voice  
Confirm? not to her.  Spu. 
With that name thou hast  
Charmed me Fidelio throughly, and recalled  
My apoplexied thoughts to their first life.  
Mine eyes were blinded with the Duchess so,  
I could not see that happiness which now  
I wish next to my eternity. But give me  
Assurance good Fidelio.  Fid. 
That were vainness;  
And now I must confess you had great cause  
To be disturbed: profess love to the Duchess,  
When you had given Amanda such deep earnest.  Spu. 
What earnest mean you? yet I ne'er saluted  
Her ears with a request; or urged the grant  
Of what you say, her inclination  
Would freely give me.  Fid. 
Why should you express  
This nice unwillingness to be discovered?  
The knowledge of't as yet is limited  
To a small number, and the memory  
Of her dishonour will be quickly lost  
In a fair recompense.  Spu. 
There's nothing clear  
To me in this dark mystery, but that  
The beauty you call sister is a Whore:  
Is it not so?  Fid. 
yourself can best interpret,  
And yet methinks another name would sound  
More Courtlike; and not have half so much offensive:  
For though she have the stain, I know she holds  
That nobleness of spirit, none but such a one  
As your full self could ever win her to it;  
And a fair satisfaction vowed withal:  
Which sure you will perform.  Spu. 
Thou art a villain;  
Did my election from a world of men  
Single thee out to be so much myself;  
The union of our souls would not admit  
Of a division, but that interchange  
And custom taught us read each others thoughts?  
And can that soul of thine express itself  
Subject, so easily to be corrupted  
With jealousy and error? Then let Moralists  
Fable hence forth no empty name of friendship,  
Nor boast there's such a secret: I shall never  
Wear thee more here.  Fid. 
This is no satisfaction,  
I dare believe your innocence; if you  
Dare urge it solemnly, and thereby give it  
A confirmation.  Spu. 
That my pity cannot  
Deny thy weakness: witness Heaven—  Fid. 
Enough.  
You shall not swear; I credit it; and my penitence (Kneels.  
Humbles me for your pardon.  Spu. 
Rise and take it:  
But I would know upon what circumstance  
This jealousy was grounded.  Fid. 
Th' information  
Came from Cardente, and her own acknowledgement  
Of her desires to you. But she shall die,  
Her shame must not out live her.  Spu. 
How Fidelio!  
Mock not thyself out of eternity,  
By such a sin will like wise render thee  
A scorn to memory: her innocence  
May suffer falsely. 'Tis not supposition,  
But proof that must condemn her; sure there cannot  
Be lodged in such a frame as is Amanda's  
A thought but nobleness: I'd soon take  
A withered Anchoress into my suspect,  
As her sweet purity.  Fid. 
You'd have her live then!  Spu. 
Why not? to make me happy.  Fid. 
Marry her,  
And to't again; till that confirms all lawful,  
I must forbid more pleasure.  Spu. 
What words fall  
From thy distraction? dar'st renew thy guilt  
By a worse second jealousy?  Fid. 
You'll be  
Her Champion too? this zeal of yours confirms  
That truth which was but doubt.  Spu. 
I shall forget  
The place hath any privilege; but come sir,  
Since my clear protestations will not satisfy,  
we'll argue it with these. 2 Scene. Enter Amanda, & Melissa meeting them.  Fid. 
There will not be  
Much Fallacy. Offer to go.  Am. 
Is your belief good brother  
Yet rectified?  Fid. 
I must not own thee: hence.  Spu. 
Since she is here—  Fid. 
This trifling smells of cowardice.  Spu. 
Away then. Offer to go again.  Am. 
What's the meaning? two such friends  
To be divided!  Mel. 
By that interest To Fidelio.  
My love doth challenge, let us know the motives  
To this strange anger.  Fid. 
Pardon me Melissa,  
I must (though willingly I would not do it)  
Forget your virtues.  Am. 
Let our tears divert To Spurio.  
Your rash and violent purpose: trust me sir,  
Unless a noble cause hath fired your spirits—  Spu. 
'Tis yours Amanda.  Am. 
Then I understand it;  
And challenge it my privilege to order  
Your reconciliation. Brother, know  
Your error hath dishonoured you so much,  
That till you have called back to your opinion  
My fame and innocence, I must not own you.  
To raise a scandal of high consequence  
From such an empty and perverse suspicion  
And not to clear it with the satisfaction  
Both of protests and testimony, argues  
A soul less noble than the generous blood  
Of our brave Ancestors successively  
Inherited; producing actions,  
The subject of large stories. Let Melissa  
Witness th' intent; a humorous counterfeit,  
To mock Cardendte curiosity  
Into an apt discovery of herself  
And wicked inclinations; that we knowing them  
Our care might shun her courses.  Fid. 
This Amanda  
Believed would bring me peace again.  Mel. 
Believe it, For 'tis a truth clear as the innocence  
Of babes: after the holy ceremony  
Hath purged th' original stain.  Fid. 
I am confirmed;  
And ask again your pardon! Yours Amanda  
I do presume upon.  Am. 
Your noble anger  
Hath such a fair excuse, that I must thank you.  
Your error only was your fault, and that  
My pity pardons freely.  Spu. 
This hath likewise  
Restored me to new hopes: and fair Amanda,  
If your esteem hath added any worth  
To my defects that make them seem perfections,  
Such as may please your chaste and free desires;  
If you'll possess me with the happiness  
Of blessed union, 'tis the only one  
That I would covet.  Am. 
Let my blushes speak  
A Maid's consent, and in them you may read  
My thoughts direction that made you their object;  
Mixing themselves with fears, hopes, jealousies;  
And all that's incident to earnest love,  
May it be crowned with such a fair event,  
'Twill make your handmaid happy.  Spu. 
'Twill but be A mutual exchange.  Fid. 
I hope our loves To Melissa.  
Are grown so ripe, the fasting of our joys  
Will not be long protracted. 3 Scene. Enter Corvino, Bonardo, and Cardente.  Mel. 
Even when  
It pleaseth the high providence.  Card. 
My Lord  
Observe how they are paired. Doubtless all's clear:  
And sure he'll make amends.  Bon. 
My Lord Corvino,  
If your consent will ratify—  Corv. 
You need not  
Urge it again. Have you observed Cardente  
Ought in melissa's inclination (Corvino & Card whisper.  
Towards Fidelio?  Card. 
That's it; she is struck  
With the blind Archer.  Spu. 
From a cloud of error To Bonardo.  
A light is broken that hath made new day  
In our dark treasons, and directed me  
To that which yields my being here a happiness,  
'Bove any form I could prescribe my wishes:  
My knowledge learned it from th' imperfect motives  
To your suspicion; without which discovery  
My ignorance had lost it: but it cannot  
Be full till crowned with your consent,  Bon. 
You have it;  
And I as freely pardon both your faults:  
Your frailty doth excuse them.  Spu. 
You'll return  
To your first error; let not a new jealousy  
Stagger our fair proceedings: We have climbed  
Half of our height already: and to fall  
From such bright hopes.  Am. 
As you would cherish duty  
Or other virtues in me, clear the mist  
That hangs before your reason; you shall see  
The whiteness of my innocence: confirm it  
With your beliefs (for truth is only valued  
As 'tis received) I shall meet his embraces  
With all my Virgin sweets, like evening air  
Without a cloud; when it but only blusheth  
To kiss the Sun at parting.  Spu. 
'Tis received  
As positive a truth as e'er came from  
A sibyl's mouth.  Bon. 
It hath restored thee likewise  
To my now rectified opinion:  
Blessings dwell with you.  Fid. 
Please you Lord Corvino To Corvino,  
With your consent to perfect what's begun  
So fairly here; and make our union add  
Something to this day's glory.  Corv. 
she Fidelio  
Wants much to meet your full deserts; your love  
Perhaps she may: when I have ordered her  
With some becoming counsels.  Bon. 
he's my son,  
And shall inherit honours and possessions,  
With virtues to their best dependences;  
Grant that you like of the election,  
And the solemnities of both their marriages  
To morrow's sun shall gaze at.  Corv. 
Pray my Lord  
Give me a father's privilege to prepare her  
With some fit precepts; then few minutes shall  
Resolve it.  Bon. 
we'll expect. Exeunt Bonar. Spur. Am. Fide.  Corv. 
Melissa, you  
Have made my age conceive as many hopes  
As ever father did to make him happy.  
Kill not their issue by a rash neglect,  
And voluntary loss of that which perfect  
And ordered judgements do call happiness;  
Above th'enjoying of a course desire;  
Confined to a mean person too: if greatness  
Were not a relative to all that's good,  
And glorious in the general speculation  
Of things that do affect us, not in sense,  
But the bright part of reason; emulous man  
Would not through danger manage actions  
So full of wonder, nor employ his faculties  
In high designs: but like a heavy lump  
That only by its weight moves to its centre,  
And there sleeps, so should we: leave no? so much  
As the Record of any memorable  
And brave achievement, for a monument  
That such men once had being. To be Duchess  
Will not impair your virtues; they would take  
More luster from the title. Now Melissa  
I'd have you quench that low and common flame  
That burns towards Fidelio; and embrace  
Those high desires I point you to: my policy  
Hath ordered the success, and your obedience  
By your subjecting of it to my will,  
Shall crown you with full blessings.  Mel. 
Honoured Sir,  
The duty which I owe you, and which ought not  
Be mentioned without reverence, humbles me Kneels,  
Thus to express it. If I could new mould  
My frame and temper fit for such great honours.  
I should embrace them with the entertainment  
Of my most ready will. My constitution  
Is of too course a matter to receive  
Such nice impressions. Those whom Heaven hath  
Ordained for Princes, are of purer earth  
Then common mortals sure; and by instinct  
Both know, and order their high difference,  
To make it fit for greatness. If I were  
The Duchess sir, my thoughts would still betray  
Me to myself; and such imperfect actions  
Receive their ordering from my weak abilities,  
They'd render me a scorn to those, that otherwise  
Would pay me reverence.  Corv. 
Your unwillingness  
Plays with illusions that are vain and empty.  
In what are you defective but your will,  
That's regulated by a childish humour?  
Let your consideration weigh th' events  
Are incident to both: when you are Duchess  
You'll be above the danger of your fortune;  
And awe that weak necessity to which  
The other may be subject.  Card. 
Sure your father  
Saith right sweet Lady; there's much difference  
Betwixt the Duchess and a subject's wife;  
Betwixt a chair of State, and a thrummed couch;  
A Ward robe that would furnish a Jews Lumbre,  
And one embroidered petticoat for Sundaies;  
And that perhaps not paid for too. Be wise,  
Obey your father Lady and be Duchess:  
'Twill be the better choice.  Mel. 
Content abounds  
In riches, when the owners of crammed Treasuries  
Unsatisfied are beggars. Sir, the Duke  
Having refused me, how can I affect him?  
And where love is enforced.  Card. 
Why there's your privilege,  
Great Ladies ought not love: their husbands more  
Than in a just proportion of state.  Corv. 
Melissa, I do find your inclination:  
And though my zeal intended your advancement  
Which you yourself refuse; yet my: indulgence  
Ties up mine anger: only I must wish you  
Consider throughly.  Mel. 
Sir, my duty shall not  
Give way to any act without your liking;  
Although I have desires I can restrain them  
From satisfaction. Exit.  Corv. 
Would Fidelio were not  
His love, a love diverts her.  Card. 
There are means;  
You understand my Lord: but yet I do not advise you to it.  Corv. 
Thou art wise Cardente,  
And canst be secret too; for thou and I  
Know something hidden to the world: 'Tis better  
Give her some philtre, that may raise in her  
A flame towards the Duke.  Card. 
But is there virtue in any such?  Corv. 
My youth hath made experience,  
And I am furnished with that is powerful:  
I bear it still about me.  Card. 
Good my Lord  
Impart it to my use; I fain would have A Husband yet.  Cor. 
Why thou mayst have Fidelio,  
A young and handsome Lord. It chiefly works  
Upon such disproportions; share it justly,  
You both must take it; for in that consists  
The magic Sympathy. 4 Scene. Enter Polemici, and Vittorio.  Card. 
I'll to my Closet  
And pray, than love. Exit.  Cor. 
Polemici, where left you  
My valiant Son?  Pole. 
Notho! he's in the presence.  Corv. 
When you return, desire him meet me in  
The Grove behind the Garden.  Pole. 
I scarce think  
he'll own you when he's Duke: Vittorio,  
What think'st thou of this riddle?  Vitt. 
'Tis a hard one, he to be Duke and lawful!  Pole. 
He begins  
To form himself fit for't: he takes survey  
Of all that he supposeth shortly must  
Bow to his humour: tell's me he'll new mould  
The State, and we shall be advanced.  Vitt. 
To th' Gallows.  Pole. 
I do not like such raising; let's be honest;  
And though we cannot make a full discovery  
Of this so close and intricate proceeding,  
we'll intimate some fears that may betray him  
To jealousy and care; that watchful eyes  
Observing him; if aught should be attempted,  
It may be stifled by prevention in the first birth.  Vitt. 
His favours yet deserve  
We should preserve him.  Pole. 
Yes, I would preserve him.  
But chiefly from the dangers incident  
To such a vain ambition, into which  
he's flattered by his father: but upon  
What ground, I do not think the devil owns  
A perfect knowledge: Sure he cannot think  
There's power in his success to make him popular,  
And lead the multitude in their disorder  
To wish an innovation first, then practise it.  Vitt. 
He saith it is his right.  Pole. 
But where's the testimony?  
Hell on these dark devices. Well, let's be  
Like valiant Soldiers in the Rear, that dare  
Go on, whilst the front stands to be their bulwark:  
But breaches made therein to show them danger,  
In flight they put their safety. Let's observe,  
And add more to our knowledge; then resolve:  
He that pursues an act that is attended  
With doubtful issues, for the means had need  
Of policy and force to make it speed. Exeunt.   

Act. 5. First Scene. The Scene the Grove.  

Corvino and  
Notho.   Corv. 
THis preparation of your high resolves  
I must allow with wonder: sure you had  
Some revelation of the weighty secret;  
Or else instinct hath taught your knowledge more  
Than a weak judgement could conclude from doubts;  
And those bare circumstances I have used  
T' instruct you by.  Not. 
But if Ferrara must  
Own me her Duke, what progress yet is ordered  
For my establishment? great actions ought not  
Want equal means: and sure my single force  
May not encounter such an opposition  
As I shall meet. To challenge it my right  
And not maintain it, renders me the laws:  
I would not pay my life for a distracted  
Unwarrantable action. If it may  
Be pleaded or with force, or testimony,  
I am above all fears.  Corv. 
I have a faction  
Which with your party will make up a power  
Of strength enough: but there is no such need.  
Melissa joined unto you will be more  
Than any numerous Army of resolved  
And faithful spirits: she alone shall clear  
All that is yet in mists.  Not. 
If you'll take from me  
The scruples that I have about its lawfulness,  
I'll court her to prevail.  Corv. 
You may command her,  
Confirm it with an Oath as you're a Prince;  
And as I hope the ends of my ambition  
Will meet success, you shall be satisfied.  Not. 
By all the virtual powers that make an Oath  
Sacred, I vow only to wed Melissa;  
Provided it be lawful.  Corv. 
Then accept  
My duty sir, that owes subjection  
Duly to none but you. It is your birthright  
That shall prefer you 'fore this young usurper;  
And thus his knee to whom yours oft hath bended Kneels.  
Humbles itself for pardon, that my breast  
So long concealed what should make many happy.  Not. 
I then am elder son to the late Duke!  
And only yours supposed: I must acknowledge  
A large debt to you for my education,  
Which answered my high birth. But can this have  
Clear confirmation?  Corv. 
As the brightest air  
The Sun illumines.  Not. 
I am then a Prince,  
And you my only Subject:  
For I know not  
Who else will pay obedience to me.  Corv. 
All Will follow my example; for the rumour  
As it grows bigger will incense the multitude:  
From whom your fortunes and deserts have won  
Both love and admiration. Fury then  
Runs them into a lump, or monstrous form  
With many heads, that carry their mad body  
Reelingly forward, where they find resistance  
Growing more violent: when to prevent  
The mischievous effects of such an uproar:  
The cause is asked and known; expostulated:  
And your right proved by me, the general voice  
Salutes you Duke. And shortly after you  
May call Melissa Duchess.  Not. 
I have heard  
She doth affect Fidelio, And unless  
She be diverted—.  Corv. 
By this time Fidelio  
Hath not his being,  Not. 
Have you killed him then?  Cor. 
Both politicly 'tis and safely ordered,  
Cardente poisons both him and herself.  Not. 
Could you have such a conscience?  Car. 
Nice religion  
Awes not a Politician. They both stood  
Betwixt me and my ends.  Not. 
You have confessed  
yourself a murderer, 'twas a bad act;  
And you have added to it: the discovery  
Hath made me guilty by the knowledge of it.  
I cannot but with horror now embrace  
Her love, for which his innocence hath suffered:  
Nor will I marry her.  Cor. 
Dare you then be  
Unjust to your own honour? and neglect  
That which you call religion, we but form?  Not. 
You have instructed me: all other virtues  
Depend on justice; she alone is perfect  
Without addition in herself. A Prince  
Cannot deservedly wear the royal title,  
That orders not it, nor is ordered by it.  
Justice with tyranny may be allowed  
Rather than partiality, for that  
Emboldens sin; the other makes it fear.  
If this day I should not be just (the first  
Of my uncertain government) a blessing  
Would not preserve it; for the bad example  
Would teach bad subjects (such as thou) to be  
Presumptuous in their errors.  Cor. 
What proceeding Intends this ambage?  Not. 
Such a sin as thine  
Is not allowed the plea of an excuse.  
Then since thou stand'st convicted by thyself,  
I thus pronounce thy sentence: thou shalt die.  Corv. 
yourself is not immortal Prince.  Not. 
By th' hand Of Justice.  Cor. 
Who's the executioner?  Not. 
thyself, I have no other to command.  
do't with that instrument. Throws him his Dagger.  Cor. 
'Tis a command  
Becomes a Prince; and chiefly such a one  
As makes it scruple to preserve his raiser,  
Or to connive at a slight petty sin;  
Whose execution hath confirmed his title:  
'Tis a less sin to kill thee than myself.  Not. 
Honour must yield then to necessity:  
I'll do't myself. My sword that hath been just Draws.  
In war, in Peace shall be so. Therefore pray;  
And if the apprehension of thy death  
Presents thy guilty conscience with an horror,  
Meet it with holy thoughts, that thy repentance  
May bear thy best part upwards. I am loath  
To kill thy soul.  Corv. 
What strange conceits are these  
Transport your reason from its use? pray kill me,  
And when y' have done it, call my silent ashes  
To tell the people how you are their Prince.  
What then shall give my cold tongue motion  
To justify your right?  Not. 
Just Heavens want not  
Miraculous means. My Justice is too slow,  
And flies with lazy wings. Therefore be sudden;  
I cannot give thy preparations  
A longer time.  Cor. 
Put up your sword, and take Throws back the Dagger.  
Your hangman's tool again. Put up I say,  
And call your duty back. Son I have played  
My trials into danger, hear the reason.  
Observing in thee haughtiness of spirit,  
Forward to noble action, that was always  
Attended with success, I feared ambition  
Might tempt thy virtue, therefore ordered this  
To prove its truth.  Not. 
You cannot trifle me  
Into new error. I have shaken off  
That loose and vulgar outside I was dressed in  
By ignorance; but now I know myself  
To be a Prince: 'Tis I that have discovered  
Ambition in thee, and thy practises;  
To make thy daughter Duchess. But I play  
Too much with Justice. Take thy punishment  
For murder. Offers to kill him. 2 Scene. Enter Spurio. draws.  Spu. 
'Tis not yet but in attempt.  Corv. 
Y' have saved my life. Exit.  Nnt. 
Why dost thou interpose?  
Rash man, I do command thee fetch him back,  
And be his executioner. Art fixed?  
Obey thy Prince with motion, or I'll turn  
My rage on thee.  Spu. 
What madness hath possessed thee?  Not. 
I'm like to have good subjects, I must beat them  
Into obedience: think not on defence  
For that's as vain as if with nothing armed  
But empty air, thou met'st a Thunderbolt.  
A sword thus ordered by the hand of Majesty  
Will make its way.  Spu. 
Traitor call back that breath, Fight.  
Which as it doth divide the circling air,  
Poisons it more than fens from whence the Sun  
Exhales infectious vapours.  Not. 
Dar'st resist  
Thy sovereign's Will and power?  Spu. 
Disloyal villain,  
Thy words have made the cause inspire such valour  
Into my hand and sword, such a just rage Fight.  
To punish thee—  Not. 
It hath a point, I feel it;  
My royal blood doth waste.  Spu. 
'Tis course and sordid.  Not. 
I fail not yet, my spirits still have force  
I think that reached you Fight.  Spu. 
That reached you again.  
The cause assures me victory.  Not. 
'Tis enough,  
W' are both proved mortal. Falis.  Spu. 
Farewell dearest Master:  
I die thy loyal Champion. Falls. 3 Scene. Ent. Corv. Infelice.  Inf. 
What's this horror  
Presents itself? Is't real or illusive?  
My Spurio, Notho, dead! let my soul flight  
To meet yours in the peaceful shades of rest. Sownes,  Corv. 
Madam look up, suffer not your faint spirits  
Thus to retire unto their inmost cells:  
Let them dilate their vigour, and at once  
Make all your senses useful. This sad accident  
If well considered is not of such consequence,  
That it should show how much our passions can  
Out do our reason.  Inf. 
Give me more fresh air,  
That I may draw it freely in t' increase  
My sighs; not to preserve the breath that keeps  
The different parts united. What sad influence  
Ordered this Tragic action? or what motives  
Could teach them to direct it to this end?  
This most unnatural end—  Corv. 
Good Madam cease  
Your exclamations; this may be applied  
To better use from a consideration.  
Your honour is secured, your shame prevented:  
It was a mercy in high providence  
Would you receive it so.  Inf. 
How weak is counsel  
To desperate frailty? 'tis not your Art can  
Persuade me to a comfort, being lost  
To all that should revive it. In these two  
Were lodged such a proportion of  
My living joys, in their cold earth remains  
All my hopes dead and frozen, unto which  
They whilst they lived gave life. If there were virtue  
In tears to warm your numbed and bloodless limbs,  
Into new life and motion, I would bathe them  
With a large flood: and when the springs were dry  
Wish myself changed into a weeping marble  
To be your monument.  Corv. 
Be not transported  
Into such vain expressions.  Infe. 
Vain advice,  
My griefs are like to Walls resisting Darts,  
They'll beat thy counsels back to thy own danger.  
Corvino you were surely false, and taught  
The youths this way to ruin. One more sigh  
Will crack my hearts weak cordage, and the vessel  
Wanting its helps, yield to the only guidance  
Of the distracted waves till it be swallowed.  
I thought my patience could have met with cheerfulness,  
Any cross storm of fortune; this hath killed it.  
Forgive me Heaven, translate my penitent  
And reconciled soul to a better mansion  
Than that she's lodged in now. Divide my heart  
You two. Corvino bear my dying blessings  
Unto Macario— Oh— dies.  Corv. 
Will you then die?  
And so prevent me? for I did not mean  
You should survive them, though I ordered not  
Their deaths; retain your senses yet a little.  
Live but to hear me, and I will relate  
All that my knowledge owns concerning it;  
And the new policies that I have built  
Upon these happy accidents; for hitherto  
Fortune hath been my macheville, and brought,  
Events about I never practised for.  
Fidelio and Cardente are removed:  
One stood betwixt my high ends, and the other  
Begot continual fear of a new danger  
By her discovery. I shall be perfect now  
In all things but revenge upon your scorn,  
And the neglect of my deservings; will you not  
Stay then to hear me? Farewell. 4 Scene. Ent. Mac. Pole. Vitt. Bon. Ben. Am. Mel. Guard.  Mac. 
What's this horror?  
The Scene presents a Tragedy; our Guard.  
Our mother dead, and our two friends made liveless  
By one another? grief seal up mine eyes  
With an eternal darkness.  Am. 
Most unhappy Kneeling by Spurio.  
Amanda, in the loss of all thy wishes;  
we'll not be long divided, if my griefs  
Meet not too stubborn and perverse resistance  
From the soft heart I gave to thee.  Mac. 
Remove  
The bodies decently, and then support me: Exit Guard with the Bodies, the Ladies following  
My spirits faint. Corvino we would have  
The best account you can of this sad business,  
To which you cannot choose but have relation,  
Considering the persons and the manner;  
Speak your best knowledge.  Corv. 
I have now no language  
But tears to be interpreted, and they  
Are characters of inward sorrow only;  
Cannot express more than their proper meaning,  
And whence they take their form. Sir I am lost  
To all my hopes of being, they being gone  
On which it did depend, my sons; in whom  
I had a lasting name, and should have lived  
Unto succeeding times: now it will vanish  
Like Clouds dissolved, to be forgotten.  Mac. 
Know you  
What were the motives to their difference,  
That fired such anger in them?  Corv. 
The remembrance  
Of that calls up more grief. Your mother sir.  
The inconsiderate youths interpreted  
Her favours to be love, and rivalling  
Each other in desire, their passions met  
By fury, joined together, and begot  
This sad effect: which when she understood,  
And saw the dire events that had proceeded  
From her so clear intentions through mistaking,  
Compassion broke her heart. This sir is all  
My sad soul knows.  Mac. 
I would it ne'er had been,  
Or I to know it.  Corv. 
Shortly I shall pay  
Nature her last debt, for my weakened age  
Cannot resist these killing sorrows long.  
And my poor services desire your grief  
Not to be deaf to one request; that is,  
You'd take my daughter to your care, and be  
A father to her: or—  Mac. 
We will respect her.  Pole. 
My information sir was truth. There is  
More mystery to be unfolded yet;  
Times daughter will appear, although she blush  
To show her nakedness. 5 Scene. Enter Fidelio and Cardente.  Card. 
Oh a Confessor.  Fid. 
Confess who 'twas that ordered this vile practice,  
Or my just anger shall allay itself  
With that infected blood thou hast, before  
The poison works more.  Card. 
It was Lord Corvino.  Mac. 
What's that?  Fid. 
She would have given poison to me,  
Of which herself had ta'en before: but providence  
Ordered it that my jealousy deferred it,  
Till it appeared to work on her with violence:  
And so I was preserved.  Card. 
But I am peppered;  
There's something in my conscience.  Mac. 
Utter it,  
'Twill make thy peace with heaven; what is't Cardente?  Card. 
Spurio, and Notho were your natural brothers,  
Got by your father, on your mother sir.  
In his first Duchess days she being barren.  
I and Corvino had the secret carriage  
Of all the business. He hath poisoned me.  
I never shall love Philters more. dies.  Mac. 
Corvino,  
Here's a discovery renders you so vile,  
That new suspicions spring from't: Neither can we  
Trust our own safety where a murderer  
Sits near our favour. Tortures therefore shall  
Force from you what they can.  Cor. 
Your Justice might  
Be tempered with more mercy, and from reason.  
Since the great secret is revealed which I  
Kept guarded with my best resolves, as being  
The Closet of your mother's honour, now  
I will stand up and Justify my actions.  
First for the death of your unlawful brothers  
'twas accidental, not by me determined.  
And hath secured your state that might have suffered  
A great disturbance by the knowledge of it:  
Which by your Mothers and Cardentes' death  
Had found prevention being then restrained  
Only to me. For you Fidelio,  
You intercepted all my studied means  
Unto my daughter's honour. But intents  
Proceeding not to act may challenge pardon.  
What tortures then do I deserve?  Mac. 
Just death.  Fid. 
That sentence kills me too. Melissa!  Mac. 
Take him away; provide for's execution.  
This day I'll see it done; 'twill set more fairly.  
Lust and ambition are two means of evils,  
That practised by their owners make them devils.   
FINIS.