Three new playes, Viz. The noble ingratitude. A pastoral-tragi-comedy. The enchanted lovers. A pastoral. The amorous fantasme. A tragi-comedy. All written by Sir Wil. Lower Knight

THE AMOUROUS FANTASME. A TRAGI-COMEDY.

ACTUS PRIMUS.

SCENA PRIMA.

Carlos, Clarina, in a street.

Carlos.

ARt sure of it, Clarina? is it possible That Isabella now is sensible Of what I suffer for her, and resents In my behalfe the fire which her faire eyes Have kindled in my heart?

Clarina.

Sir, I assure you, Tis an undoubted truth, which I receiv'd From her owne mouth.

Carlos.

I'm much astonished

With a successe so charming.

Clarina.

For my parte, I wonder that you are astonish'd at it: Is it so great a miracle, I pray you, To see a Mayd to chaung? we have a mind Alternatelie to turne love into hatred, Or hatred into love, such an effect As this so common in our Sex, should not Seeme strang unto you: Isabella. is Of age sufficient to feele the effect Both of the fire she kindles, and o'th'evill Which she procures; the end, Sir, of her coldnes Should not surprise you: who gives love, can easilie Take it againe; and when a young heart never Hath loved any thing, at the first fire That sparkles, tis inflam'd; my Mistresse is As sensible as faire▪ you will be happie, If you are faithfull.

Carlos.

But com'st thou by her order?

Clarina.

To speak truelie, She willed me to speak as from my selfe; But, Sir, your goodnes is a gage that makes me To tell you all, tis by her expresse order That I have uttered this secret to you Of such importance; but you must be silent And discreet, if yov'll profit by the knowledge.

Carlos.

But may I not at least acquaint her brother With my good fortune? he is bound by friendship To favour me, and I should doe him wrong To disguise any thing to him.

Clarina.

Oh! Sir, That's it my Mistresse, dreadeth, believe me, Above all things: so farre you must be from Acquainting him therewith, that you should feare Least he might have the least suspition of it: Know you not yet that her inhumane Father, Will not permit her to give you her hand, That to uphould the splendour of his house, He'll rayse his Sonne unto his Daughters cost, And, (as tis o••ten practis'd now a dayes) To th'one designes his goods, and to the other A Monasterie?

Carlos.

I know well that her Father Hath fuch a purpose, but though he be of A nature so inhumane, sure, her brother Is not so barbarous: we are tyed together By such faire bonds of friendship, that I know He'll mix his interests with mine.

Clarina.

If I May frelie speak my thoughts here, I must tel you That interest can break the strongest bonds, That commonlie men better keep their wealth Then their fidelitie, and that there is No friend which they love equall with themselves Be sure you trust no person now a dayes, Daunger still followes too much confidence: The lesse a good is knowne, the sweeter tis: Lastly Sir, keepe your secretts to your selfe, My Mistresse doth desire it.

Corlos.

Oh! Clarina, It is ynough, there is no reason more

In this point to examine now, but I Obey without dispute; the name of Friend Must yeild to that of Lover; but shall I See our faire Mistresse by thy meanes this evening?

Clarina.

Sir, it is verie late.

Carlos.

I know thy skill. And thou know'st —

puts gould in her hand.

Clarina.

Yes, your liberalities. I'le goe t'advertise her, as you desire, And presentlie returne, if you will stay, Either to bring you up, or to persuade her To come downe to you. —

Exit Clarina▪

Carlos alone.

Carlos.

Oh how sweet it is To mollifie a hard and cruell heart! How charming is Love, when tis mutuall? what high content, what extasie of joy Feels a poore captive in his troubles, when The hand that tames him, helpes to beare his chaines? A good gain••d easilie is not esteem'd: The more it costs, the more tis pretious: Although th' Horizon's covered with darknes, I easilie discerne the dore to open; Doubtles, tis Isabella, I'le advaunce.

SCENA SECUNDA.

Carlos, Fabritio.

Carlos.

My happines is greater then I dar'd

To fancie is, I can't expresse unto you, By what soe'r indeavour I can use, The fullnss of my passion and my joy.

Fabritio.

Deare friend, I doe beseech thee let us leave Vaine complements, I know shy goodnes for me.

Carlos.

Good God! how I'm confounded▪ tis her brother Fabritio.

— aside.

Fabritio.

Thou knowest then, it seemes, How highlie fortune is propitious to me, My mar••iage is concluded and agreed, And thou com'st without doubt to wish me joy.

Carlos.

Friend —

Fabritio.

I'm certaine, it is this that brings thee hether: Thou wilt congratulate my happines.

Carlos.

How readie, and ingenious he is To draw me out of trouble?

— aside

Fabritio.

Thou comes to take part in my ravishment.

Carlos.

Thou should'st doe me a great wrong, to judge otherwise.

Fabritio.

Know then that our desires did jump together: I was a going hastilie unto thee To tell thee tbe glad neWes, I did believe Thou knew'st it not, and did not thinke to be Prevented, I am highlie redevable To thy rare friendship.

Carlos.

I doe nothing for thee That is considerable, my interest

Alone bringeth me hither, and thou need'st not To thanke me for it.

Fabritio.

How! what interest Canst thou have in this place?

Carlos.

The same which friendship Enjoyneth me to take in thy contents. Betweene two faithfull friends, such as we are, Everie thing should be common, joy and happines Possesse••h both, when one of them enjoyes it. Know when I beare a part in thy good fortune, I more oblige my selfe then thee, and am So well paid for my care and tendernes, That there needs no addition of thanks.

Fabritio.

Know also of my part when Fortune doth Conferre her favours on me, they are dubled When Carlos shares therein, and would diminish If he should not partake them; but who comes So late forth of our house?

SCENA TERTIA.

Clarina, Fabritio, Carlos.

Clarina addressing her selfe to Fabritio thinking to speake to Carlos.

Clarina.

SIr, enter quicklie; My Mistresse Isabella in her chamber Expecteth you and will. —

Fabritio.

How, what will she?

Clarina.

Misfortune! tis Fabritio, I must Dissemble.

— aside.

Fabritio.

Well, what will she, finish now.

Clarina.

Sir, she would speak with you, T'expresse the joy whereto her love engageth her On the conclusion of your marriage.

Fabritio.

I know her tendernes, and what I owe her; Carlos and I will see her presentlie To give her a good night.

SCENA QUARTA.

Climene, Iacinta, Carlos, Fabritio.

Climene comming out of her house.

Climene.

IT is Fabritios voice this which I heare, I cannot come forth in a fitter time.

Carlos.

I willinglie waite on you, your desires Are mine, you need not doubt them —

to Fabritio.

Fabritio.

Let us enter.

Carlos.

How this successe favoureth my flame!

— aside

Fabritio stopped by Climeme.

Fabritio.

But who doth stop me? Heaven! it is a Woman, It seemes she Would speak with me Carlos stay.

Carlos.

I waite you heere.

Fabritio.

How comes it she withdrawes When I advaunce?

Carlos.

Withour doubt she hath something To speak to you in private.

Fabritio.

In the hope Wherein I am that I am he you seek, Be not offended that I dare t'approach: I've courage and civilitie ynough T'esteeme me fortunare if I could serve you: T'engage me, Madame, to the offer which I make to use my utmost cares and paines T'accomplish your desires, it is sufficient That Heaven hath given you the advantage to be Of that faire Sex unto which all owe homadge: If I may notwithstanding without giving you The least offence be honoured to knowe Your name, you will encrease my Zeale in giving me So faire a satisfaction.

Climene

Take it then, My deare Fabritio, and know Climene.

Fabritio.

Climene, my faire Mistresse, what occasion Could bring thee heere at such an hower as this? Thou doublest my feare and perturbation; The more thy voice assureth me; the more Vncertaine am I: and so farre am I From comming forth of errour, that I enter Into new Labyrinths, and doubts, I was More happie when I knew thee lesse; oh what Designe hast thou, I cannot comprehend it?

CLIMENE.

Climene.

Leave me to speake, then, I will tell it thee. I will not say what joy and happie rapture Seised me when I understood the newes, That by a joynt accord our friends and parents At last had yeilded to our marriage; My love, which thou shouldst not forget, exemps me To discourse this unto thee, and enjoynes me To a relation much more important▪ And much lesse pleasing,

Fabritio.

How▪ what thing is ther•• In nature that can trouble our repose, Since as our hearts, our parents are agreed?

Climene.

Tis of a longer date then from to day That Love useth to mingle with his sweets Much bitternes, those whom he flattereth At first are seldome happie, his deceit Is equall to his blindnes, and like Fortune, H'is constant onelie in inconstancie: This is a truth, which thou shalt but to sensibly Conceive: one day which was the fatallest Of all my life, wherein my father burthened With age and sicknes had the sorrie honour To be by the Du••e of Ferrara vissitted: This Prince knew me in this extremity, And thought to see some charmes upon my pale And blubbered face, myne eyes unluckily Wept unto hIs, and from the sources of My teares his flame took birth,

Fabritio.

Oh Climene, I feare —

Climene.

That feare offends me; my heart wholie Was thine, I gave it thee, and the Dukes passion Stir'd up in me nothing but my aversion: Though I conceal'd this fire, thou hast no cause To complaine at it, for before twas knowne, I hop'd to quench it, and I scarce should yet Reveile it to thee, if thy interest Oblig'd me not to speak: on the report Which was spread of our marriage, the passion Of the Duke was converted into rage; He came unto me in his first transport, Sware to me solemnelie that my choice was The sentence of thy death, that Love opposing My punishment, he thought to doe more in Destroying what I lov'd; and to the end He might with the more rigour punish me, He would even to the bottome of thy heart Goe for to seek me: Lastly knowing well That his desire is to assault my life In threatening thine, conducted here by love, And more by feare, I come to conjure thee T'avoid his furie; fly hence, what soever Care for me keeps thee back heere, and to save My life, preserve thine.

Fabritio.

This discourse is cruel As much as it appeareth sweet: should you Advice me to absent me from your person? Sure I should little know what tis to love, T'obey you in this point: Come, come, say all, Confesse your love is chang'd, that my remaines Of hope must vanish, and that the Dukes flame Hath dazled you, I see well that mine heere Is troublesom, that you abandon Love To follow Fortune, and that poore Fabritio With all his fetters pleaseth your faire eyes

Lesse then a crowned Captive: I condemne not This signall rigour; you deprive me of A happines whereof I was not worthy, And in receaving of a Scepter offered Vnto your beauties, you obtaine much lesse Then you deserve. Raigne, nothing is dishonou∣rable, To gaine a diademne; and as I love you More then my selfe, I shal esteem my death A faire designe, if entering into A tombe, I leave you in a throne,

Climene.

Fabritio, Canst thou love me, and speak thus? reallie Thou detract'st from my glorie in this thought That I can be unfaithfull, bannish it, It is thy enemie and mine; suspition Between us two should be a hideous monster; Canst thou be ignorant with any justice, That I love lesse a scepter then Fabritio, And find more joy in being captive with thee To raigne over thy heart, then ore the universe?

Fabritio.

It is ynough, Climene, my devout And a mourous soule, which ever must adore thee Although thou should'st abuse it, would believe thee: And though a lye carries a swarthy face, In issu••••g from thy mouth it would have char∣mes; But how comes it to passe that when thy sweet∣nes For my sake flyes a crowne, thou dost ordaine me To depart, and to leave thee? how to leave thee. And in a Rivalls power to! no, this remedie Is Worse then the disease. Suffer my presence, Or suffer my despaire, what matter is it

Whether the Duke, or absence kill Fabritio

Climene.

When two inevitable dangers meet To invade us at once, tis wisedome still To think of the most pressing, here thy ruine Is certaine, being absent, thou canst live; Consider this, that to what punishment Soer our love exposeth thee, thou canst not Suffer but I must suffer too, nor dye, But I must cease to live, for know absuredlie My dayes shall finish with thy destiny; When we are dead, the grave shall be a wittnes Of our reunion? where I see thee not No object pleaseth me; if thou art yet Incredulous of words and protestations, At least believe my teares.

Fabritio.

Oh open not Those pretious sluces, keep that treasure in; Encrease not my affliction with thy griefe: Not all the blood which tunneth in my veines Is worth the least drop of these liquid pearles, The evills wherewith my life is thretened Are too well payed with a single teare.

Climene.

Oh leave those vaine discourses, and depart.

Fabritio▪

Well, well, Climene, I must then obey.

Climene.

I have as much cause heere to be afflicted, As satisfied, I feare more thy departure Then wish it, and I give my faith unto thee, That thou shouldst not depart, if I could keep thee And expose but my selfe. Let's separate; But what! this fatall image robbeth me Already of my strength, spare me, I pray thee, In parting hence the danger heere to dye

In bidding thee adiew.

— Exit Climene.

Fabritio.

Climene flyes me; O lamentable destinie!

SCENA QUINTA.

Carlos, Frabitio.

Carlos.

FRiend, comfort thee.

Fabritio.

I am inconsolable, And must die, Carlos, since I must absent me.

Carlos.

Thou shalt be happier, if thou wilt heare me, I have a meanes that thou shalt not depart, And yet, in safetie too, shalt see Climene, Alone, and without trouble.

Fabritio.

To abuse Thy friend, is but an odd way, in my judgment, T'assist him, tis to aggravate my evill, And not to heale it: is there any art To render me invi••ible?

Carlos.

For once then Believe that I will doe for thee a thing Which seemes impossible, give me leave to speak And in a moment thou shalt lose ••hy griefe, And thy astonishment: Thou knowest well That Italie hath for a certaine time Bene troubled with two factions, whose partakers In everie citie name themselves a loud The Guelps and Gibelins: on this occasion

My Father and Climen••s 'gainst each other Took an immortall hatred; through their credit And their condition, each made himselfe Head of a faction; the Duke receiving Advertisement thereof, and apprehending. The issue of this enmity, so stronglie Conceived, made them both to be arrested, Not without, reason, and confined them As prisoners, each one to his owne house. My Father who saw his pretension vaine, Knowing his house was neere unto the others, Had recourse unto cunning, and believed That everie thing was lawfull to destroy The greatest of his enemies; to work then His ruine, and in private too, he caus'd A close Mine to be digg'd even underneath His adversaries garden; being finish'd, My Father fell sick, and soone after dyed; I was, as thou knowst by the right of birth Heire of his goods, and not of his revenge; But though I should now have a hatred for Climene, I should sacrifice it wholie Vnto thy love; in opening this Mine. Thou may'st, without being seen, have easie accesse Vnto thy Mistresse, and to execute it Securelie, we will make all men believe That thou art gone.

Frabitio.

How infinitlie am I Indebted to thee? how shall I acquit me?

Carlos.

My friendship is offended verie much At these expressions of acknowledgments. I'le to the Duke expreslie t'understand What his intentions are concerning thee. Enter into my house.

— Exit Carlos.

Fabritio.

I'le goe t'impart This secret to Climene. But what heare ••?

SCENA SEXTA.

The Duke, Val••rio, Fabritio. Iacinta, Guards.

Duke.

Doe that which I commaunded.

Valerio knocks, at the dore of Climenes house.

Fabritio.

Tis the Duke. Rage overcomes my reason.

Duke.

What aversenes Soe'r Climene hath unto my flame Some little hope yet flattereth my soule, I've gain'd her woman; who hath promised This night to bring me p••ivatelie into Her chamber, the dore openeth, Iacintae!

Iacinta comming from Climene.

Iacinta

Yes everie thing succeedeth to your wish, My Mistresse is deceiv'd and takes you for Fabritio, she commanded me to open Without delay, her order doth excuse me In letting you to enter, lose no time; But I heare her descend, speake not a word, Without doubt, she'll mistake her selfe.

Duke.

We will Be cleer'd therein, let us approach a little.

SCENA SEPTIMA.

The Duke, Climene, Fabritio, Iacinta, Valerio, Guards.

Climene addressing her selfe to the Duke and thinking to speake to Fabritio.

Climene.

WHat would'st thou, my deare Lover?

Fabritio.

a, deare Lover! Heavens! what is this I heare!

Climene.

I have cause, reallie, To complaine of thee, could'st thou not one night At my request refraine my companie? Yet I excuse thee upon this presumption That who loves well is little Master of Himselfe, and can't deny but my charm'd soule Complaines heere but of being too much lov'd.

Fabritio.

May I believe this? Heaven! am I enchanted?

Climene.

Thou need'st not doubt this truth; when I would be Angry against thee, suddenlie I check My selfe, and when my mouth accuseth thee, My soule defends thee.

Duke.

Fortunate Fabritio

— aside

Fabritio.

O happie Rivall!

— aside.

Climene.

Thou dost know my love.

FABRITIO.

I knew it ill.

— aside

CLIMENE.

What! answearest thou nothing? Doubts thou my flame, or fearst thou that another More pleasing object drives thee from my soul? What ever happens, rest thy selfe assur'd That my loue and my life shall have one course▪ And that it is impossible for me No more to love thee.

DUKE.

How unhappie am I?

— aside.

FABRITIO.

How miserable am I?

— aside.

CLIMENE.

What obligeth thee To murmur still thus to thy selfe? must I Confirme my love unto thee by some oathes? If my flame for thee make not all my glorie, If thou alone possessest not my heart, And all my thoughts, let —

FABRITIO.

Sweare not ingrate full and perfidious Woman, It needeth' not, I doe believe thy words.

DUKE.

Thy death shall soone follow thy insolence: My Guards.

Fabritio flying.

FABRITIO.

It is in vaine to make resistance.

Valerio and the Guards goe after Fabritio.

DUKE.

Pursue, and kill him.

IACINTA.

Alas! I'm dead with feare.

CLIMENE,

I faint, I faint, Iacinta, hould me up.

Duke.

Let him dye, tis but just, too great a merit Is often a great crime, in ruining This Rivall, I may gaine what I desire; And if he perish not, my hope must perish: Let's see if the successe answeareth my wish.

SCENA OCTAVA.

Valerio, The Duke, Iacinta, Guards.

Valerio.

OH, Sir, tis done, he's dead, in vaine he did Indeavour to defend himselfe, he fell Peirc'd with a thousand mortall stroaks, his soul Found overtures ynough to sallie forth His bloody body, covered o'r with wounds

Iacinta.

Oh! stay Sir. —

Comming forth of Climenes house.

Duke.

Thy cares are superfluous. I am reveng'd, Iacinta, and Fabritio Is dead.

Iacinta.

Oh if you love Climene, enter not Into the house, she's scarce recovered yet Of a great faintnes which seis••d on her spirits.

Duke.

The blood which I have shed, will cost her teares, I will not goe, to add unto her griefes, But retire me, a while, in the meane time, Valerio, let it be your charge to goe Vnto Fabritios Father, to acquaint him With his sonnes death, and further let him know That for his rash and sawcy insolence, He hath receav'd but a just recompense.

The End of the first Act.

AGTVS SECVNDVS

SCENA PRIMA.

Isabella, Clarina, In a Chamber.

Isabella.

WHo enters there?

Clarina.

Madame, it is Valerio, Who from the Duke Discourseth with your Father

Isabella.

What pressing busines might bring him here?

Clarina.

To tell you, I should be a Prophetesse.

Isabella.

A message at this hower's not ordinarie.

Clarina.

It doth appeare as strang to me, as you.

Isabella.

Let us expect the issue on't, and change Discourse.

Clarina.

You faine would have me speak of Carlos; Madame, confesse it.

Isabella.

I cannot deny But I am pleased, when I heare him prays••d.

Clarina.

I should not be in my right sense if I Should speake ill of him, he is a brave man, And of a Liberall and obliging nature, He merits much.

Isabella.

But in what manner did he enrertaine Th' intelligence thou gav'st him that my humour

Towards him was inclined to more sweetnes, And rhat my heart at last dispos'd it selfe. To love him?

CLARINA.

With transports, and extasies, Which cannot be express'd.

ISABELLA.

Hast thou bene careful To tell him cunninglie, according to Those rules I gave thee, that to doe him service Thou didst betray thy Mistresse, and gav'st him That notice without my consent?

CLARINA.

Yes, Madame I tould him so, and verie handsomlie; But your strang love surpriseth me, you feare that he should know it, and yet tell it him: If he lesse knew it, would you be more pleas••d? What humourous fancies are in Lovers spirits?

ISABELLA.

Though I love Carlos, (be it reason, or Fancie that guides me) I believe I doe My selfe wrong, when I doe justice to him; The bashfulnes which Heaven hath put into Our Sex, for bids us to be free in what Concernes the point of love, nor must we think any thing lawfull in relation to't: And by that power, which I know not my selfe, I cannot without blushing say, I love: It seemeth that our eyes made to tame hearts, When those that were our captives doe become Our conquerours, although they finde the dart Lovely and charming that subjected us, Cannot without some shame, behould this change The art to despise love, my heart no longer Can practise, but o Heaven! whom see I Carlos? So late here in my chamber.

SCENA SECUNDA.

CARLOS, ISABELLA, CLARINA.

CARLOS.

PArdon me This bold intrusion, seeing the dore open, I could not but lay hould of the occasion; And following my love, I thought I might With out offending you with disrespect Enter, to cast my selfe at your faire feet.

ISABELLA.

How fancie you that I can be so little Respectfull of my honour, as to suffer A vissit from you without being offended? No, Sir, your hope deceives you, and this libertie You take, denoteth in you little love, Or too much Vanitie; can I believe You love me well, in giving to your selfe A licence thus to make foule-mouth'd detraction In veigh against me, or can you imagine, Without great folli•• in your selfe, that I Can approve this designe so little modest, And not b'offended at it?

CARLOS.

Though I can Produce some reason here for my defence, I hould me criminall, since I offend you, And should but little profit to persist In the opinion of my innocence When your faire mouth condemnes me,

ISABELLA.

I condemne you,

Tis very true, and for your punishment I bannish you; you must goe forth.

Carlos.

I dare not Appeale upon your sentence, but retire; I obey with regreet, but without murmur.

Isabella.

How Sir, begone so soone, what motives pray you, Induce you thereunto?

Carlos.

Since you ordaine it I must depart, tis fitt that I obey you.

Isabella.

I should think, Carlos, that you obey here Some what too quickly for a perfect Lover: Believing that you lov'd me, I appear'd Too proud, and scornefull: t'is an assur'd maxime. That one loves coldly what he quitteth easily; Love is but il expressed by respects; Who readilie obeyes, knowes not to love

Carlos.

I am astonished at this discourse; Can you Complaine, I quit you, Isabella, When I obey you gainst my sentiment When my love glittereth in my submission, And when by a kinde heat, which is not common, My happines displeaseth me, when it Offendeth you? what would you then have said, If seeking onelie my owne sa••isfaction, I had preferred my desires and wishes Before yours? in what manner can I please you, If in obeying you, I anger you?

Isabella.

You argue too well for a man in love. VVhere love is strong, reason is impotent; The one can't be establish'd, whilst the other

Subsists; sometimes a mayd would be resisted, And obstinatelie lov'd gainst her consent; And as her close desires are verie seldome Express d, she often speaketh with intent To meet a contradiction, and to be Enforced unto that which she desires: According to this maxime, possibly, I have on this occasion discours'd Conrrarie to my sentiment, and perhaps, I should be so farre from believing me Injur'd thereby, that you would have oblig'd me, In not obeying me.

Carlos.

I'm rap'd in pleasant wonder, if those words Astonish me, they charme me more; if I Must stay to please you, nothing is more easie, Then to content you fully in that point: Seeing obedience is not pleasing to you; I will stay, Madame, and will not obey.

Isabella.

It is too late; begone, my mind is chang'd; Occasion is lost assoone as' pass'd; You would have too much pride, and I should have Too little, if after such a confession I should detaine you here.

Carlos.

This order is Severe and rigourous.

Isabella.

But it is just: I love not alwaies to be disobey'd. Follow Clarina, goe, and have a care You be not seen. O Heaven! I heare my Father.

Clarina.

Alas▪ we are undone; perhaps, he doubted

Of your intelligence, enter forthwith Into this closet.

SCENA TERTIA.

Alphonso, Clarina, Isabella.

ALPHONSO.

Oh Daughter, daughter!

ISABELLA,

He appeareth furious. —

aside.

I read my sad misfortune in his eyes.

ALPHONSO

Can I live after such high injuries?

ISABELLA.

What is the Matter, Sir?

ALPHONSO.

How! demandest thou? Dost thou not plainelie see in the excesse Of my quick griefes, that I am burthered with The greatest of misfortunes?

ISABELLA.

What misfortune. Oh! Father?

ALPHONSO.

Isabella, Isabella, I must no more be called by that name.

ISABELLA.

I feign'd in vaine, tis best to confesse all.

ALPHONSO.

O fatall chang, Heaven, who could'er have thought it?

ISABELLA.

Sir, I beseech you, heare me

ALPHONSO.

What would'st thou

That I should heare, I know now but to well What that love costeth me which taketh pleasure In blood and teares, and hideth deadlie poisons, When it shewes flowers.

Isabella.

I confesse —

Alphonso.

Oh how often. Our expectations are deceiv'd, in'wishing Children, we wish troubles, and punishments.

Isab.

If his death

Alph.

Yes, his death is certaine,

Isabella.

Suffer That by my teares —

Alphonso.

Thou sheddest them in vaine.

Isabella.

Father, revenge is easie.

Alphonso.

But alas? What should I enterprise against the Duke?

Isabella.

The Duke? What say you?

Alphonso.

Art thou ignorant, That my sonne by his order receiv'd death?

Isabella.

I know it not; oh miserable destinie?

Alphonso.

Valerio from him brought me the sad newes, And would enforce me to agree with him, That he in killing him did not unjustly:

Isabella.

What crueltie is this? wast not ynough, Through an unjust and barbarous constraint, To forbid you a just revenge, but even To complaine of the injurie?

Alphonso.

True, Daughter; To punish yet my sonne after his death, They will I understand it, and not murmur: It seemes they have a minde, that I should goe To kisse the hand that murthets me, as being Stained, and smoaking yet writh my sonnes blood.

Isabella.

But S••r, consider in this sad conjuncture, That my deare Brothers body doth expect Interment.

Alphonso.

Yes, I have tooke care for that, By order from me it is to be brought To this apartement.

SCENA QUINTA.

Licastes, Alpbonso, Isabella. Clarina.

Licastes.

THe death, Sir, of your sonne is but to certaine W'ave brought his body into the next chāber. Some little distance from this place we found it Stript, and so much disfigured with wounds, That we should not have judg'd it to be his, If seeking carefully we had not found His coate not farre of, and a little further His hat•••• The thing which troubleth me most In this misfortune is, that having made A fruitles search all over for the rest

Of his habillements, I could not finde Any one of them, and can not imagine Who should have tane them thence.

Alphonso.

Vnhappie Sonne Of an unfortunate Father!

Licastes.

Sir, you may From hence see this sad object, if you please To cause that curtaine to be drawn aside.

aside

Alphonso.

Draw it, Licastes, let me see my sorrow; We would be private, everie one retire.

The curtaine is drawne, and he sees upon a bed a murthered body.

I cannot in this Lamentable object Discerne one feature of my Sonne, and scarce Will my confusion give me leave to know Him whom I have begotten, lying thus In such a mangled condition. Sonne, if it may be lawfull in the sad Estate wherein our miseries have put us For me to use that name sometime so sweet, I must then say unto thee, that this spectacle Makes me to feel thy wounds more sensibly Then thou thy selfe didst when thou didst receive them: Thy miserable destinie and mine Differs not much, the blood which thou shed'st is The purest in my veines, the arme whose rigour Hasted thy death, gave not the fatall stroak Through thy heart, but it entered in my bowells: And if we differ any thing in such A miserable fortune, tis in this, That I still feel the pressing evills, which thou Sufferest no more, Sources of my afflictions,

Deepe wounds, which appeare now but bloody mouths, Whose silent accents seeme here to solissit My arme to a reveng, know that a subject Houlds not his Soveraignes fate betwene his hāds: In vaine ye aske reveng' gainst such a blood; Alas here I can offer you no other, But what my heart makes to flow from mine eyes.

Isabella.

The crueltie o'th' Duke, Sir, should be punish'd.

Alphonso.

He is my Prince, although in my concernement A tyrant, subjects destinies depend Vpon their Soveraignes, a crime becomes Iust in their hands; and if at any time Those earthlie Gods ought to be punished', It must be by a thunder bolt from Heaven: In this case I should make but vaine attempts. If the Duke dye, shall my Sonne live againe? But what chance brings Clarina here in such Distracted haste?

SCENA QUINTA.

Clarina, Alpbonso, Isabella.

Clarina.

Oh Signeur, oh Madame! —

Alphonso.

VVhat ayles thee, art thou mad?

Clarina.

Oh, I have seene —

Alphonso.

what hast thou seene that troubleth thee so much?

Clarina.

I have seene, I have seene —

Alphonso.

VVhat hast thou seene? Speake, I conjure thee.

Clarina.

Since then I must speake it, I've seene a dead man walke.

Alphonso.

Th' ast lost thy reason.

Clarina.

Nothing's more true, that fearefull Fantasme fol∣lowes My steps, I heare him, he pursues me; save me.

Isabella.

It is my Brother —

Alphonso.

Straung! It is my Sonne.

SCENA SEXTA.

Alphonso, Fabritio, Isabella.

Alphonso.

Sonne, is my soule sure, or am I deceiv'd, Is this but an illusion which I see But a vaine object formed by my fancy? If so, finish my life heere with my errour? Mayst thou yet be i'th' number of the living? Fabritio, ist thy body that I see Or ist thy shadow? comest thou to fill me With joy, or with affright? come satisfie me, Let me embrace thee.

Fabritio.

I see the light, Sir, and I finde here charms, Since you esteeme my life at such a rate As to lament it lost; not but as injur'd By love and fortune, they should not doe to me A favour to deprive me of the light;

But though they should oblige me very much, In the condition wherein my soule Is now, to quench my feirce flame with my blood, And though my blood thus shed would make my fortune, More sweet, I would conserve it, since tis yours.

Alphonso.

How comes it that thou hast so strong a hatred For life? thou canst not doubt Climenes love; The passion of the Duke alarumes thee Too much; if thou lou'st much, thou art no lesse Belou'd.

Fabritio.

A faire appearance oftentimes Beareth false wittnes, I assur'd my selfe Too much of her fidelitie, and though I could doubt the report my senses made me, I have too sure a testimonie of her Perfidiousnes, since her owne mouth confirm'd it: She entertain'd in amourous discourse My happie Rivall with so passionate An air, that I forgate both my respect Vnto the Duke, and the care of my life, In uttering my despight; the Duke possess'd Strongly with love and hate, gave expresse order Vnto his Guards to kill me; but I knowing That my defence then was unprofitable, Vnder a dark porch sought my sanctuarie, Whilst an unfortunate stranger walking that way They took to apprehend me in the darke, Was suddenlie environ'd with the Guards, And peirced through with halbards. assoone as Those murtherers were gone, to draw my life Out of such hazards, and to make this errour More probable, I took the bloodie cloaths Of that deplorable body, and was readie

To leave it mine, having cast his into The current of the river, when a noyse Of voices crossing my designe, I was Constrain'd to leave that body naked and Without life, to come speedilie to you▪ And to advertise you of this event.

Alphonso.

I feare the issue of this blest succsse; Know that the Duke boasts of thy death alreadie, He thinkes it just, which maketh me to judge That thy preserved life is still in danger; If thou desirest to obey thy Father, Stay not a minute here, but seek thy safety In sudden absence.

Fabritio.

But What! must I leave Climene?

Alphonso.

She hath left thee, her example Shewes thee the way to infidelitie; If to betray a person that doth love us Be a base act, to love one that betrayes us, Is no lesse weaknes.

Fabritio.

I am stil a Lovet, Though an abused Lover, and she hath. More beautie then injustice, her crime puts No fearful object in her eyes and countenance. Although she cease to love, she ceaseth not To be belov'd, and my heart charm'd by her, Deceives it selfe, if it thinks to be able To hate her, though she hath betrayed it.

Alphonso.

I finde that absence is the onelie remedie For this disease, tis fitt thy passion yeild To my desires; fly through obedience,

Or through resentment, oh assure thy safety By thy remove, tis that which I desire.

Fabritio.

And which I feare.

Alphonso.

That matters not.

Fabritio.

But Sir —

Alphonso.

But I command it thee: for feare to be Perceiv'd, goe forth without attendance and Without noyse unto Carlos house, and there Passe the rest of the night; to morrow earlie Before the day break, take the way to Florence, VVhere I have many Friēds that will defend thee. In the meane time I'le send thee by a friend A horse and money for thy journey; haste.

Fabritio.

My Sister.

Alphonso.

Add not to my miserie By sad regretts: be gone, be gone; adiew; Let me embrace thee, I deprive my selfe Of my most deare support, but though I lose thee, Tis with intent to save thee.

— Exit Fabritio.

SCENA SEPTIMA.

ALPHONSO, ISABELLA.

Isabella.

By what crueltie Banish you my deare Brother?

Alphonso.

Isabella,

Thou speakest like a Sister, and I act As Father, it is farre more pleasing to me To have an absent Sonne, then none at all: I will deceive the Duke by taking of His unjust pursuit gainst his life, when he Shall fully understand his death: I will To morrow that my house be all in mourning, That this corps be interred for my Sonne; And to the end that all Ferrara be Deceived with the Duke, I'le honour it VVith funerall pompe, this is a debt we owe. Vnto a blood, whose losse hath conserv'd ours, Although we had no furthet use of it. Lastly —

SCENA OCTAVO.

Fabritio, Alphonso, Isabella.

Fabritio.

SIr —

Alphonso.

VVhat is it that troubles thee?

Fabritio.

I met the Duke, Sir, at our dore, he follow'd A torch, which might, perhaps, discover me, I heare noise, he pursues me, oh receive him,

Alphonso.

O duty too unjust! cruel constraint! Goe quicklie with thy Sister Isabella Into that closet.

Isabella.

He goes to Carlos house, what shall I doe?

Fabritio.

Come along with me, what should hinder you?

Isabella.

I feare you should be seene••, and there fore would That the light might be put out in this place.

Fabritio.

I contradict not, les us enter then.

SCENA NONA.

Carlos comming out of the closet.

Carlos.

They are both entered, I must quickly forth: Fortune no longer seemeth to be contrarie To my designes; the way is free; but what! I heare the Fathers voice: oh how unhappie Am I?

SCENA DECIMA.

The Duke, Valerio, Alphonso, Carlos, Guards.

Duke.

ALphonso, I am not deceiv'd, Your sone is Living, I have seene him: having Vnderstood, that Climene in a soowne Fainted, being carefull of so faire a life, And guided by my love, I went unto Her house, where happilie I saw your sonne: I ••now that she adores him, and dare say That her disease wil Vanish, if he Lives: Lastly I wish it, and am come of purpose To be informed cleerelie of this truth.

Alphonso shewing the Duke the body which is upon the bed.

Alphonso.

SIr, you may easilie be cleerd herin; Behould my sonne, judge if his losse be certaine:

You fear'd him living, doe not feare him dead. See, his congealed blood smoaks at your presence?

Duke.

It is too much I'm fullie satisfied That he is dead; but what did Carlos heere Without light?

Carlos,

To secure my Friend, I must Feign hand somlie —

aside,

Duke.

He seemes to be astonish'd.

Carlos.

Sir, tis not without cause that I am so. For comming here to understand the newes of my deare Friend Fabritios destinie, Assoone as I entered that open chamber, His Ghost appear'd before me in a posture So dreadfull, that I tremble to thinke on't: He had the figure of a fearefull Fantasme, His bosom was opened with a large wound, His colour pale, and all his body bloodie. He came towards me with a staggering pace, And darted forth a look though languishing Yet feirce; a bleak, and black blood issued Out of his mouth, and in his eyes grim death Walked the round.

Duke.

I also saw just now Fabritios shape, but much lesse horrible, Me thought he was alive.

Carlos.

I dare engage My credit, that your Highnesse saw his shadow Aswell as I.

Duke.

Tis that which doth confound me. I still held for a fable what the vulgar Report, of vaine ghostes, and could not imagine That a spirit once departed from a body, Should leave the dead to come among the living, Cease to be simple, and be visible, Having no more a body. Notwithstanding This successe startles me, I could not think it, And now I cannot doubt it. But adiew, I see your griefe encreaseth by my presence.

Alphonso.

Sir, I waite on you.

Duke.

I know what is a Farher, and that nature VVill not allow him to pay homadges To him that robbs him of a Sonne—

Exit Duke.

Alphonso.

How highly — Am I indebled to you for this favour? -

To Carlos

Carlos.

It is not great; twere requisite Fabritio Should instantlie betake him to my house, From whence he may unseene make his escape, I'le goe unto the Duke now, to confirme him Yet stronger in his errour. —

Exit Carlos.

SCENA UNDECIMA.

Alfonso, Fabritio, Isabella.

Alphonso.

GOe, and chuse Florence to morrow for retraite.

Fabritio.

Sir —

Alphonso.

Let me Receive no more replyes, doe what I bid thee, All my desires should be strong lawes to thee, Adiew, let me give thee the last embrace.

Isabella.

Sir, notwithstanding all your care, I feare My brother can't submit himselfe unto This severe order; by his last discourse I comprehended too well that he loves Climene still after all her contempts, And that his blinded soule is still resolv'd To lose all, rather then to lose her sight.

Alphonso.

I will be satisfied heerin, and know The meanes to doe it, faile not thou to morrow Towards the evening to goe to Climene: The evill, that hath surprised her, invites thee Vnto this Duty; for my part, I wil Make Carlos a vissit at that time: If my sonne stayes, I doubt not but to finde him In one or to ther house; but it is late, Adiew, in humane Fortune give unto thee As much rest, as I have unquietnes, And trouble at my heart. —

Exit Alphonso.

Isabella.

Las! mine doth bleed with double griefe▪ though the first wound be hid,

The End of the Second Act.

ACTVS TERTIVS,

SCENA PRIMA.

The Duke, Iacinta, in Climenes Garden.

Iacinta.

THis is the Garden, Sir, where presently My mistresse comes to walke her melancholie: The griefe she taketh for her Lovers losse, And her decayed health distracts her judgment; Although the danger of her maladie Be great, she walkes, and would even fly herselfe. Be you assur'd her griefes will suddenlie Conduct her here to weep her sad misfortunes, And you may see her without witnesses, And without trouble, if your Highnes please To fetch a turne or two in this close Alley.

Duke.

Thy care augments my trouble, not my hope; I burne, and feare to see her equallie: I burne to see her when I represent Vnto my amourous soule a charming Image With all its beauties, and I feare to see her, When my sad fancie represents unto me The rigour of those faire offended eyes: Tis an undoubted truth, I feare to see That faire afflicted one to reproach me The evills wherin my flame hath plunged her, To say that hatred is the onelie fruite Of my addresses, and that with my Rivall My spirit is destroy'd.

Iacinta.

Your Highnesse, Sir Should be prepar'd against the bloody taunts

Of a beblubbered Mistresse: to speak truelie, And not to flatter you, I cannot see The least hope that she will be wrought to love you By this sweet way you take; I should advise you Vnto another course, make use of force, Where kindnes cannot work; ravish a good, Which is denyed to you; take her hence, Who is so foolish and so rigourous, And force her to be happie gainst her will.

Duke.

How, take her hence by force? oh no, I cannot Consent unto it, force can never be Compatible with love, I would be lov'd Without constraint, and cherish'd with out feare, So farre would her disdaine be by this meanes From ceasing, that it would take deeper roote, As having juster ground to propagate.

Iacinta.

Your reasons are not altogeither lawfull; Our Sex, Sir, hath strang maximes, oftentimes It feeles not what it doth expresse, and seldome Loveth Deaths fatall wracks, after a fortune Of such a nature, love in womans heart Turnes unto griefe, and that griefe vanisheth: Her oaths and cries are of no consequence, Her passion dies, when th' object is no more. Perhaps, Climene at this verie hower, Feeles that ambition from loves ashes springs Within her heart, and that she is prepar'd, In spight of her just mourning to proferre The glorious possessour of a throne Before the sad inhabitant of a tomb And, possibly, wearied with her affliction, She would be forced to embrace your love.

Duke.

To take her hence, and force her unto marriage,

Are the last meanes which I will try; before I use towards her the least violence▪ I'le see her.

Iacinta.

Sir, she comes there.

Duke.

How she studies, And how her slow uncertaine pa••es speak The violent troubles of her spirit, her palenes Depaints her griefe.

Climene.

Leave me alone, and passe Into that alley.

SCENA SECVNDA,

Climéné, Iacinta, The Duke.

Iacinta.

Madame, —

Climene.

Once againe I say I will be private for a minute; Retire, and leave me to my selfe.

Iacinta.

But if The Duke. —

Climene.

Be gone, and speak no more of him, His name is odious to me.

Duke.

How unfortunate Am I?

Iacinta.

I tould you, sweetnes would doe nothing Vpon that stubborne spirit.

Duke.

I will follow Thy counsell, let us speedilie goe forth, My presence would encrease her crueltie.

Iacinta.

For feare you should be seene, be pleas'd to stay Till she goes in; till when I cannot hand sonelie Draw you from hence; in the meane time your Highnes May in those shadie walkes divert your sadnes.

SCENA TERTIA.

Climene alone.

Stanzas.

THou which they say canst with facilitie Act what includes impossibilitie, Blind Guide, false Child which canst have no pretence At all unto the state of innocence, Tyrant of hearts, Love, wich hast boasted still That Death submitts unto thy power and will. Make her to know that she muade•• thy right In robbing my Fabritio of the light And cause him to returne againe, or give Me passeport the Shades where he doth live. The sweetest objects that now strike mine eyes, Encrease the number of my miseries, The Suune tells me Fabritio's but a shade, The Lillies at his losse look black and fade, Those Rose, Queen of the flowers, seemes to be Stain'd with my Lovers blood, and neepes with me. Deare Lover, thou sad object of my cries, Whose image still dwells in my heart and eyes, Rep••oach me not that I live yet to mourne, After thy ashes sleep in their cold vrne, Death without doubt ere now had joyned me To thy sad shadovv, if I could agree

That thou shouldst dye within my heart, oh no I cannot leave th'y adored Image goe. Thy cruell Rivall when he murthered thee In his conceit, mistook, and murthered me: His furte was deceiv'd, not satisfied, In cutting of thy dayes, Climene dyed, The Duke betrayd his vowes, for I expire In thy cold ashes, Thou liv••st in my fire.

Climene.

What's that I say, Thou livest in my fire, Thy living Image is carv'd in my soule; But those immortall characters, alas! Which flatter me, are dead Fabritios. Vnjust and rigourous fate, was't reasonable, That death should sease him so neere marriage? But why dispute I in such great misfortunes? I'le suffer my sad sighes, fotbid my teares, And to enuenome my affliction, I'le cease complaint, nourish my sorrow, and By prudent cares for feare to weaken it, I'le strengthen it within, Ile signalize My griefes by silence better then by speech. When one hath lost all who complaines, receaves A kinde of comfort, therefore I'le for beare; Yes, my deare Lover, to deplore thy death In stronger termes then plaints and exclamations But what! I heare a fearfull noyse beneath me?

A noise under the Stage.

It seemeth that to joyne me to Fabritio A sudden thunder doth prepare it selfe To come forth from the center of the earth: The noyse redoubleth, and renued stroaks Makes me believe that underneath my feet They dig graves, I perceive the flowers to fall The plants to be unrooted, the most setled And firmest oakes to tremble; it is time

To fly hence, but I cannot, feare for bids me; Heaven! the disorder growes, and the earth cleaves Fabritio comes forth thence, my strength failes here, And I am almost dead with feare and weaknes.

SCENA QVARTA.

FABRITIO CLIMENE.

Fabritio comming out the Mine.

Fabritio.

THanks unto Carlos, and in spight of destinie, I hope to see Climene in this garden But to conceale the meanes on't I must cover Most carefullie the opening of the Mine: Those stones, and those greene boughs will make the hole Invisible, I need but seek the ingratefull, Before I vent my anger; I'le reproach her With my pass••d services, with her inconstancie, And her false oaths; for feare my death should give her, Some satisfaction, and to th'end t'afflict her, I will appeare unto her, and protest That I will live yet to abhorre her; yonder I see that faire Inconstant; but alas! I see her pale, cold, and in dying posture; At this sad object which confoundeth me. A tender pittie doth succeed my passion; And if this pittie caus'd by her misfortune, Is not yet love, tis something, sure, that's neere it, Climene thou faire object of the flame which riseth up againe, when almost dead, Cast yet a languishing look upon Fabritio; For all thy anger and inconstancie, I never sought any reveng gainst thee; Returne, and if thou wilt not that I live, At least with one sweet look honour my death: I heare some comming, I must hide my selfe.

If I should goe into the Mine againe, There's danger I might be surpris'd.

SCENA QUINTA.

The Duke, Climene.

Duke.

I have heard stroaks which troubled me much The noise came from this side, let us advaunce I see Climene, who sleepes; but alas, Vnparalel'd misfortune! she is dead, And underneath a thick vaile, her faire eyes Are shut up never to be opened: Tyrannick destinie, by what law is it That such a rare and exquisite beautie hath So tragicall a fate, and that the Star Of my nativitie, which hath produc'd My fires, findes in its morne eternall night? But I am in an errour; Master peece Of all perfection, fate is innocent, And I alone am guiltie, tis this arme, This barbarous arme that hath tane hence my Mi∣stresse In murthering my Rivall.

Climene.

Oh, alas!

Duke.

She breathes, she breaths, and openeth her eyes Love, be propitious to me.

Climene.

Is it thee, My deare Fabritio, Fantasme of my soule, Sweet Shadow of my Lover? what wilt thou?

Duke.

Her griefe distracts her judgment.

Climene.

Commest thou to reproach me suddenlie, That thou hadst lived, if thou had'st not seene me, And that the fire sometime so faire, which kindled

Our hearts with mutuall love, serv'd but to light thee To descend to the grave?

Duke.

You are mistaken, Adoreable Climene.

Climene.

Tell me then The cause that brings thee, Com'st thou to solissit My heart and arme a while yet to deferre My death, unto the end to revenge thine! Wil thou that this hād plung'd in the Dukes blood Make my destruction just, and thine reveng'd Speak speak; he shall not long be in condition To triumph in thy death, in the midst of His Court, and in the eyes of all Ferrara, I'le peirce the bosom of that barbarous Prince.

Duke.

My heart feares but the stroaks of your faire eyes, Know me, and recollect your wandering senses The excesse of your sorrow wrongs you much.

Climene.

Whom doe I see?

Duke.

A Prince that loveth you.

Climene.

What fatall accident, what cruell destinie Presenteth me, in stead of my Lover, His murtherer, Sir, you must pardon me This langvage, as a person highly injur'd: I can no mor respect you: is it possible, You are not fullie satisfied yet In barbarouslie depriving me of him, I lov'd more then my selfe, but you must come To robb me of his Shadow?

Duke,

This vaine shadow You speake of, is but an illusion

Form'd by your feare and your affliction; And when I've dissipated from your fancie This fatall image, you will finde that I Have more advauntaged, then injur'd you. For dead Fabritio, please you to remember, That twas your interest made me punish him; The insolent discou••se which he held forth, Carried me justlie to that violence: If I had spar'd him, I had injur'd you, And if I had done lesse, I had lesse lou'd.

Clim••ne.

By ••his accompt then I'm indebted to you For giving, me the greatest of misfortunes, In killing even before mine eyes the object Which I adore, without whom the faire light Is odious to me; you are much deceav'd In your pretentions, you have gained nothing In ruining a Rivall, and the art Whicch you use to asperse his reputation, Can't hinder him to live with in my soule: Though this death which I feel livelie with in me Had not express'd so much hate and contempt As you shew love and tendernes, I should Have loved him so much as I hate you.

Duke.

I condemne not your just transports, but beare them, He was your Lover, though he was my Rivall; And I repent my rage in that I wrong'd Your charming Image, printed in his soule: I know that Rivall, which was odious to me, Pleased your faire eyes more then I, his merit Was that which onelie rendered him guiltie: I hated him for being too amiable; But in that hate, I fully did expresse My love to you in offering you a heart,

And with that heart a crowne. But I offend you, Your looks speak your disdaine. not to provoke you, I leave you, and hope yet, that you will one day Have lesse aversion for me.

Climene.

Time can never Cure my disease, death onelie is its terme.

SCENA SEXTA.

Iacinta, Fabritio, Climene.

Fabritio.

I will approach, I see the Duke retire, My trouble is pass'd; and Climene lives; But, heaven: who cometh here againe to crosse me?

Iacinta to Climene.

Iacinta.

The Funerall is comming.

Climene.

What, Fabritio's?

Fabritio.

It is Iacinta, I need not for her Keep a loofe of. —

aside.

Iacinta.

Yes Madame, you may see The coffin which encloseth your dead Lover From your Balcony at this very instant: His Father, who intends to celebrate His mourning, honoureth Fabritios death With funerall pompe, and whilst they carrie him Vnto the Temple, you may, if you please, See that unfortunate body passe.

Climene.

I will so, It is my last desire,

Fabritio, discovering himselfe.

Fabritio.

Enjoy it, Madame, Behould heere the unfortunate Fabritio.

Iacinta

Heaven! where shall I fly safely from this Fantasme. I dare not stay.

— Iacinta flyes away.

Climene.

What! will Iacinta leave me;

Iacinta.

I have no other Mistresse now but feare.

Fabritin houlding Climene.

Fabritio.

False and ingratefull Beautie, doe you fly me? This makes your lightnes. To appeare too much: If any justice yet raignes in your soule, After you have betray'd me, give me leave To complaine my misfortune.

Climene.

I betray you? What doe I heare, Heavens! how astonish'd am I At this so strang event? if I may heere Believe mine eyes, it is the living portrait Of my Fabritio, but if I believe His voice, it is but a deceitfull Fantasme Of such a faitfull Lover:

Fabritio.

I am that verie Lover, who against Your will could not, in losing all his hope, Lose his life too; yes, I live yet, Ingratefull, And feare I live for you still in despight Of my just anger, I know not what power Opposeth it. in steed of murmurring, I sigh, and all the heat that rests with me Resembles anger lesse then love.

Climene.

Now I Begin againe to know Fabritio; His heart in spight of him doth secretlie Render me justice; and when the false mouth Condemnes me, it seemes resolute in thought That I am faithfull.

Fabritio.

Faithfull? oh it is Vnto the D••ke that this speech is addressd He onelie is to hope for all your love.

Climen••.

Canst thou impute those base thoughts un••o me?

Fabritio.

They are truths, if I may believe your oathes; I should doubt yet of this extreem misfortune, If I had understood it from the mouth Of any other but your selfe.

Climene.

An evill When it is knowne, is easie to be cur'd; I know thy errour, cease to be abus'd; If the last fatall evening I express'd ••ind words unto the Duke, I did believe That I discours'd to thee, and so upon That faith all that I said to him, was wholie Intended unto thee••, thy onelie Image, Which can possesse my heart, my memorie, And all my senses with so much renowne, Was onelie guiltie in that fatall moment, If but a little blindnes may be said To be a crime in Love.

Fabritio.

Vnto a Lover, Whose soule resignes it selfe unto suspitions, Any excuse is good ynough, and passeth,

A lye that pleaseth deceives plea••antlie, And everie thing is easilie believ'd, Which is desir'd; though all thy reasons were As false as faire, so sweet it would be to me To see my f••ares to end, and in my fancie To flatter the affliction which thou Might'st cause me, that thou wouldst oblige me stronglie To make me yeild to be abus'd.

Climene.

Let thy heart be Free from those Low suspitions; if thou wilt Absent thee, I am readie heere to follow thee; I'le manesest unto thee everie where The cle••renes of my faith, be it to live, Or dye with thee, let Heaven blesse, or deceive Our expectations, I'le live satisfied, Or dye content.

Fabritio.

What owe I —

Climene.

Thou ow'st nothing; Nothing of thanks, in following thy desires, I follow my owne sentiments; but how Wer't thou secur'd?

Fabritio.

Fortune did favour me, A straunger passing that night perished Instead of me, and this Mine gives me meanes From Carlos house to enter into thine.

Climene.

Thou mayst a while heere entertaine thy thoughts In the meane I'le goe to fetch my Iewells: Passe underneath this arbor, I believe I heare a noyse; assoone as it is night, I'le come to thee againe.

SCENA SEPTIMA.

Iacinta, Fabritio.

Fabritio.

IF I am not deceiv'd, heere comes Iacinta, Climene trusts her with her neerest secrets: Forrune, it seemes, to day in everie point Will be sweet to me, if I can oblige her To goe away with us.

Iacinta.

Scarce freed yet From my first feare, I tremblinglie returne Vnto Climenes house: Fabritio Was murthered through my meanes, and without doubt He cometh to revenge himselfe upon me From th' other world: my ruine were inevitable If I should meet that fearefull Ghost againe.

Fabritio.

Stay. —

Iacinta.

Tis the Spirit, good God, I dye with feare! Oh Genrle Fantasme, have compassion of me; I doe confesse my fault, and promise faithfullie N'er to betray you, nor my Mistresse more.

Fabritio.

Strang! but I must know more. Disguise me no∣thing, If thou dost —

Iacinta.

Touch me not then, I beseech you, And I will tell you all: tis true, •• alwaies Indeavoured ••o hurt you, that I studyed To serve the Duke in his amours against you, And that indead I was cause of your death.

Fabritio.

Pernstious spirit. —

Iacinta

Enter not into furie, This is not all yet, lend your eare, I pray you, I had forgot to tell you that the Duke. By my advise this day hath fix'd upon Climenes rape, and that this verie evening He will attempt this unjust enterprise,

Fabritio.

Horrid perfidiousnes!

Iacinta.

I have tould all my faults, now may it please you That I leave you in peace: for know that nothing Is so unpleasant to me as discourse With people of another World. If you Were not dead, you would be so good unto me, To grant me pardon upon my repentance.

Fabritio.

It would not suite well with a generous spirit To punish a weake woman. Goe. —

Iacinta.

Mon••ieur Fantasme, God will receive your soule.

— Exit Iacinta.

Fabritio.

The Duke this night Intends, it seemes, ••o take away Climene, Heaven, must my hope be yet againe destroy'd? But my heart leaves it selfe to be assaulted With a vaine feare, seeing I am belov'd, What should I doubt; nothing is strong ynough To disunite two hearts whieh love hath joyn'd, This God doth miracles for those that be His faithfull Votaries, and such are we.

The End of the third Act.

ACTVS QVARTVS.

SCENA PRIMA.

Fabritio,

alone.

BEhould the hower, wherein I hope to see The Beautie which my soule loves and adores; The Sunne alreadie having run his course, Darteth no more heere but a feeble light: With his last rayes he now adornes the West He setts with glorie, shines when he is lost And the fair remnants of his dying brightnes Maketh his fall and losse illustrious, Pardon, thou glorious Star, whose splendour hurts m••, If my hope comes, when thy light vanisheth: Ingenious Love, to hurt me more, assembles That masse of Instre which so charmeth me In faire Climenes eyes, and presentlie Her looks wil give me brightnes which surpasseth That which thou takest from me: But she stayes, Heaven. she neglects me, she appeareth not: The Moone is well advaunc'd; and all my hope Dyes with the day; this long delay denotes A fault of love: I heare one walk, and if My eyes are faithfull witnesses, I see This miracle of Faire ones come at last.

SCENA SECUNDA.

Climene, Fabritio.

Climene.

FAbritie —

Fabritio.

Heere, faire subject of my flame. Here's he, who is as ••aithfull as he's happie.

Climene.

I did not think to have bene so long absent. I feare that I have put thee to some trouble.

Fabritio.

Believe, indead, that to Fabritio The least remove of thy faire eyes is grievous. I did expect thee sooner, and to speak The truth resolved to complaine unto thee, Vpon this point; but to forget it quite, It is sufficient that I see thee now; I have no power to complaine before thee, The present pleasure flattering my thought, Takes wholie from me the remembrance Of my pass'd trouble.

Climene.

Since love forceth thee Not to accuse me, the same passion Obligeth me too to excuse my selfe. It was not the care of these Diamonds Wherewith I'm loaden, which caused my stay, It onelie was the care to take a time Proper for our departure.

Fabritio.

Let's referre The prosecution of this discourse Vnto another time, and think we now To finish our designes, and t'haste our flight; I feare the stroaks yet of injurious chaunce, She should be ••rusted least, when she smiles most.

Climene

Let's haste, I willinglie consent unto it, I feare least that torch should discover thee, Oh hide thee!

Fabritio.

I will dye rather then hide me; An outrage is intended to thy person. I must prevent it, being advertised

That the Dukes readie by a barbarous order To carrie thee away by violence.

SCENA TERTIA.

The Duke, Valerio, Climene, Fabritio, Guards.

Valerio.

SHe must be heere

Duke.

I'le draw aside a little, But so, that I'le heare all: Goe, speake from me.

Fabritio.

What suffer thee to be tane hence by force, And in my presence?

Climene.

No, if any Violence Be offered, step forth unto my ayd, In the meane time hide thee, and make me not To feare for any but my selfe; Valerio, What seek you heere at such an hower as this?

Valerio.

I could not wish to meet a better object Then your faire selfe, a coach neere hand attends you, I must conduct you there, having for it An expresse order.

Climene

How! from whom have you This order?

Valerio.

Madame, from the Duke my Master, Whom everie one is bound here to acknowledge For Soveraigne.

Climene.

Let him be n'er so Soveraigne, Yet he must know that the free soule of Climene

Is not within his power; my heart depends Vpon another, and say what he will, That is no lawfull subject to his Empire.

Valerio.

Madam, I'm sorrie — but I must obey,

Climene.

What! thinketh he to make himselfe belov'd. As one makes himselfe hated▪ Losing libertie? Believeth he that I should be so simple To take so many marks of hatred for Effects of love? what from his enmitie Might I not feare, if when he loveth me, He seeks to persecute me?

Valerio.

I am forc'd Asmuch as you are, but it is in vaine For you to give your selfe o'r to complaints, Follow me quicklie where I goe. —

Duke.

Stay, stay; Her beautie will not suffer any outrage To be done to her person, in my presence, Or rather I have too much passion To suffer that she should be injured. Tis true that troubled much, and desperate At your contempt I was prepar'd to take you Away by force, I did expect the issue, And will confesse, Madame, that in my soule Love vanquished respect; but presentlie At your first words love vanquish'd at its turne, Yeilded unto respect: cease, cease to feare, Thou charming wonder, the heate of that love Soomewhat too violent: should your heart be Hard as a rock, I onelie would imploy Respect to touch it, there's more passion in me Then hate in you: in all the places where

I reigne, you shall be Souveraigne, and I shall Esteeme me happie, not to give you lawes, But to take them of you.

Climene.

I should give thanks Vnto the Duke for such a declaration If I could flatter heere Fabritios enemie.

Duke.

Although his losse hath reason to oblige me, Since it afflicts you, it afflicteth me; But there runnes a report upon this point which terrifies me, tis that to your eyes His Fantasme doth appeare.

Climene.

There's nothing false In this report, Fabritio since his death Appear'd before mine eyes.

Duke.

To dissipate Obnoxious feares which might cause evill visions Within your fancie, some of my attendance Shall presentlie have order not to leave you,

Climene.

Oh! Sir, this is not it which I demaund.

Duke.

Tis the least duty I must render you: Suffer them for to guard you.

Climene.

Sir, it needs not.

Duke.

Your quietnes concernes me, and I must Take care of it.

Climene.

So farre you would be from obliging me By this designe, that you would hurt me rather; Of this care therefore I dispense your Highnes.

Duke.

To condescend to your desires heerein, Were to betray you, the sad vision Of a dead person doth encrease your griefes. Permit —

Climene.

No, Sir, command them not to follow; The vision doth please me, and I feare To be deprived of its companie.

Duke.

This Spirit will alwaies distract your reason, As long as you stay in the house alone.

Climene.

If but to chaung house will give you content, I'le satisfie you, Carlos is my neighbour, I will retire to him.

Duke.

If you fix there, I contradict it not, his mother is A verie prudent Woman, and her counsells Will be a great helpe to your timourous spirits, Permit me to conduct you to her house.

Ciimene.

This prayer is a command, Sir. I cannot Refuse to follow, him, especiallie Seeing Fabritio likewyse hath designe

Softly.

To goe there.

Fabritio.

What discourse i'th' name of wonder Might she have all this while there; but good God•• The Duke drawes her away, I'le succour her.

Duke.

This Fantasm's nothing elce but the effect Of a sad thought, the senses are all hurt, when the soule's troubled.

Fabritio.

I'le put out the light.

Duke.

Lastly I' promise you that there's no Fantasme, Nor ever was; but what is that I see? O prodegie! o Heaven! how am I troubled?

Fabritio.

It is Fabritio, who is come to take Climene from you.

Climene.

O Fabritio, Vnto what danger comes thou to expose thee?

— aside.

Fabritio.

Climene, save thy selfe, or leave me perish.

Climene.

My life's in danger, when thou hazardest Thy selfe. I doe withdraw now, follow me.

Duke.

Advance, Guards, I'le be cleered in this point, Leave me not, I comand yee.

Fabritio.

She is gone, I'le follow her.

Valerio.

Sir doubt not on't, it is Fabrotio's shadow.

Duke.

No matter, I'le be satisfied therein.

SCENA QUARTA.

Carlos, Valerio, the Duke, attendance.

Carlos comming out of the Mine.

Carlos.

I'le goe to ayd my friend, this noyse doth make me To judge that his life runnes some danger here.

Valerio.

It is impossible to take a Fantasme; Yet he is taken, and it is a sensible, And solid body.

Duke.

Traitor, and the greatest Of all my enemies.

Carlos.

Oh Sir! what fault Hath Carlos committed? never had you A subject yet more faithfull.

Duke.

What is that? Tis Carlos, strange! this is a new surprise: Heere all my arguments are vaine. Come you, Carlos, to take Climene from my hands?

Carlos.

I, Sir? by no meanes; the noise which I heard Drew me unto this place to know the cause on't.

Duke.

Who came into this garden then to stop me?

Carlos.

It was Fabritios shadow, can you doubt ont? We can give you a certaine testimonie Thereof, as knowing well his voice and visage.

Duke.

I observ'd them my selfe verie distinctlie.

Carlos.

Assure yee, Sir, it was Fabritios shadow.

Duke.

I'm stranglie troubled at this prodegie; Climene was persuaded by my reasons To quit this house, and I was bringing her Vnto thyne, when that spirit came and parted us, So that we have lost each other in the darke.

Carlos.

This successe, Sir, strikes me with terrour too.

Duke.

Carlos, we must finde out this charming Beautie, And for her safetie bting her home to thee: Seek thou of that side, the rest follow.

Carlos.

Oh heaven! we are undone, the plotts discover'd: If the Duke finde Fabritio, his ruine Is certaine, but if in spight of the night I'm not abus'd, I see a woman comming Towards me.

SCENA QUINTA.

Carlos, Climene.

Climene.

FAbritio, is it thee?

Carlos.

No.

Climene.

Oh, my griefe!

Carlos.

Although it be not he, at least it is His second selfe, tis Carlos. —

Climene.

Oh! deare Sir, How mise••able am I?

Carlos.

I know, Madame, All your misfortune, having understood it. From the Dukes mouth, who verie much in passiō, Seeketh you with no ordinarie care.

Climene.

Fabritio's heere about, if he should be Vnfortunatelie found, it were impossible To save him afterward; Sir, if you love him,

Divert his daunger, overtake the Duke; To draw him hence, tell him that I am readie To come forth of this fatall place, and that I've promised to stay here till you come, To goo with you unto your house.

Carlos.

I fly; In the meane time, find, if you can your Lover, And tell him what hath happened, above all faile not to be here presentlie, your selfe.

Climene.

Fortune; I feare is not propitious Ynough unto me, to permit me now To finde Fabritio, with too much heat Her anger doth pursue me, to consent That I shall have this happines, notwithstanding I heare a noise, perhaps Love favorable To my chast flames, guideth my Lover here: But what, they are two women; they have seene me, Or I am much deceiv'd, I must begone To seek Fabritio, and to shun their presence.

Exit Climene.

SCENA SEXTA

Iacinta, Isabella.

Iacinta.

IT is my Mistresse, Madame, approach bouldly▪ And give me leave to goe immediatelie Into the house, my conduct, and my cares A••e here superfluous.

Isabella.

Stay, she goes away, And I see her no more, come, let us follow.

Iacinta.

Good God! if I should meet the spirit againe Which I fo dread?

Isabella.

Thou knowest all these turnings, And thou canst guide me; Goe before.

Ianinta.

Who, I? defend me, God, from such a rudenes, I know my duty well, though a grosse Girle, Madame, you are to goe first, I'm to waite you Oh if the spirit should come to punish me For my late treason!

— softly

Isabella.

But thou tremblest.

Iacinta.

Alas! there's reason for it.

Isabella.

Stay here then, I'le follow her without thee, ho, Climene!

Iacinta.

She leaveth me alone, oh, I am lost! Madame, where runne you?

Isabella.

Doe not stay my stepps.

Iacinta.

Should you be n'er so angry, by your favour, You shall not follow her.

Isabella.

Thy importunitie Is really, extreme, why dost thou stop me?

Iacinta.

Because I love you, you would be in danger, Should you goe on, your safetie's deare unto me, And I'le take care on't.

Isabella.

Leave me.

Iacinta.

No, I must not: I'le tell you a strang thing a fearefull Spiritt Haunteth those places,

Isabella

Ist a waggish Spirit? Hobgoblin, or a Robin-Good follow?

Iacinta.

No, he's not pleasant, rather on the contrarie, It is an evill, and a mischievous spirit.

Isabella.

Who tould it thee?

Iacinta.

Mine eyes, which did not lye. And I sweare to you that I've twenty times Seen it in severall figures, sometimes like A man, and sometimes like a ravenors beast, And still at everie bout mischievouslie Readie to break my neck.

Isabella.

Climene then Is not in safetie here.

Iacinta.

I know not that; But I believe there is a league betweene them They agree verie well: But see the spirit In forme now of a Giant; Heaven protect me.

SCENA SEPTIMA.

Fabritio, Iacinta, Isabella.

Fabritio.

IT is Iacinta, and Climene is Without doubt with het.

Iacinta.

It approacheth to us, Oh let us fly, tis death to meete with it.

Isabella.

It stopps at me, o Heaven, what feare have I?

Fabritio.

Climene, stay, and heare me, I'm Fabritio.

Isabella.

It is my brother, strang surprise! I wil Speak soft and conterfeit my voice to finde What his designe is,

— aside.

Fabritio.

The injurious Duke, Frō whom my cares would take thee, seeketh thee Without doubt at this instant, let us lose No time to shun his violence, but haste we To Carlos house: besides, I feare my sister. For she at home this evening said unto me. That she would come to vissit thee: if she Should see me, presentlie my Father, who Thinks me alreadie farre of from this place, Will understand the contrarie. This is not To detract from my Sister, she is good. And verie innocent, but her fault is She cannot hould her peace.

Isabella.

Continue, Brother, I'm much oblig'd unto you, pray, proceed.

Fabritio.

Misfortune! tis my Sister Isabella.

Isabella.

Pursue, good Brother.

Fabritio.

Las! I've said too much, Excuse the feares and weaknes of a Lover▪ If thy heart felt such seisures thou shouldst know That the God, who is President of love, Is but a timourous child, and trembles alwaies:

Isabella

I doe confesse, that I am ignorant In maximes of this nature, and indead Too innocent to understand them well: Concerning your aboad, which I have learn'd With some regrett, for being knowne to me T'is not lesse secret: I will make appeare By silence and discretion, that I am A better Sister to you then you are a Brother to me.

Fabritio.

Oh! Sister, what sweet sentiments have you? How shall I merit them?

Isabella.

I heare some body, Brother, let us withdraw.

Fabritio.

I'le take your counsell; goe forth of this dwelling To Carlos house, I'le follow you immediatelie.

SCENA OCTAVA.

The Duke, Carlos, Isabella, attendance.

Carlos.

YOu see Climene stayes heere, as I said.

Duke.

Conduct her! tis ynough, Im satisfi'd, And will goe forth content.

Carlos.

Madame, tis Carlos, Follow me without feare, speake soft —

Isabella

Tis Carlos, I'le follow him without constraint.

— aside.

Duke.

Guards, waite upon Climene for this night, My eyes must be deprived of the happines To see her, my love urgeth me in vaine To follow her, defer we till to morro•• To render her a vissit, the good which I expect thence would be too dearelie bought If it should cost a trouble to Climene. Depart we, and lets flatter us with hope That we through perseverance shall o'rcome, And that there is no heart so hard by charme, Which those fires in my bosom cannot warme.

SCENA NONA.

Climene, Fabritio, The Duke.

Climene.

FAbritio.

Fabritio.

My Climene.

Duke.

Heaven! what heare I? My judgment is confounded heere; Climene Is gone with Carlos, yet some secret charme Which I can't comprehend, houldeth her heere In conference with the shadow of the dead.

Climene.

Everie one is retir'd we are alone, The Duke is also gone out of the garden: Let's finish the designe we have in hand, Le••'s presse it on, and fly we without feare That Tyrants love, for whom I've so much horrour

Duke.

In what a hideous gulfe of black despaire Am I plunged by this prodegy? ist a truth, Or ist a dreame?

Fabritio.

Haste we, but I'm afrayd That in the dark we shall not finde the Mine.

Climene.

No matter we caan goe out of the garden Another way, the key of the back dore Which I have heere about me privately, Will give us passage forth to Carlos house, Where 'gainst the light returnes, I will be readie T'embrace thy fortune, and to follow thee, Goe where thou wilt.

Fabritio.

By what expressions. —

Climene,

Tis ynough, make me no reply, but follow▪ We lose time,

Duke.

There's no doubt of it, tis certaine, Fabritio either dead or living steale Away Climene; ha! I cannot suffer, This outrage in my sight: come, I'm resolv'd To lose my selfe, or reskue her; o Heavens!

The Duke running to succour Climene, falles into the Mine.

The End of the fourth Act.

ACTVS QVINTVS.

SCENA PRIMA.

Carlos, Isabella.

In a hall of Carlos house.

Carlos.

WHom see I here? misfortune! oh unluckie Encounter! but, perhaps, I am deceiv'd, Is it you, Isabella?

Isabella.

Strang? what heare I? Ist possible that Carlos should not know me? Are all my features suddenlie defaced? No, they remaine yet, onelie I have cause To thinke a hat they are raz'd out of thy memorie

Carlos.

Oh, Madame, this suspition is unjust, I will upon this point tell you the truth With all sinceritie.

Isabella.

Pray, what sinceritie Can one expect from you?

Carlos.

Condemne me not Before you heare me: I had a designe Which prospered not, my intent was to bring Another woman here, and I confesse That I am sorrie now to see you Madame, In her place, your faire presence is indead A trouble at this time. But —

Isabella.

It sufficeth, Ingratefull, thy crime is acknowledged, And more sincerely then I could have thought.

Carlos.

Suffer me to expresse my self••

Isabella.

It needs not, What explication can be more cleer?

Carlos.

Heare what remaines.

Isabella.

No, I will heare no more, All thy disguisements are superfluous.

Carlos.

But know —

Isabella.

What should I know more? hast thou not Tould me that thy soule's fleeting, thou intende'st To bring another Woman here, thou wilt That I believe it, and I doe believe it.

Carlos.

I have not. —

Isabella.

True, thou hast not any thing For me but coldnes, and presumption; To see me in her place, thou sayst, th'art sorrie, And with an unjust passion thy salfe spirit Carried away, goes from inconstancie To incivilitie.

Carlos.

Give me leave to speake.

Isabella.

What canst thou say unto me? That thou acknowledgest the Empire of A Worthier object, that in vaine thy heart Hath stood against her charmes, and that to gaine thee I have too little beautie?

Carlos.

Oh deceive not

Your selfe with so much art, and I beseech you Be lesse unjust to my poore heart that loves you.

Isabella.

In losing such a heart as thine, I shall Lose little, it is faith••es, base, and treacherous, And I pretend not any thing unto it; Adiew.

Carlos

What without hearing me, oh stay, I doe beseech you, stay.

Isabella.

My presence here Doth trouble you.

Carlos.

It is a reall truth.

Isabella.

A reall truth, Ingratefull?

Carlos.

You shall not goe forth before Y'ave heard me, suffer me upon this point T'expresse my thought.

Isabella.

I should againe be troubled With thy discourse.

Carlos.

What I shall say unto you Can easilie be verified.

Isabella.

No, no, I forbid thee to justifie thy selfe.

Carlos.

For the last time yet give me leave to say▪ That it is you alone whom I adore, That I am wholy yours.

Isabella.

Well, let me see then, If I have any power yet in thy soul.

Carlos

Madame, commaund, you shall be satisfied.

Isabella.

Say nothing more then to excuse thy selfe, And leave me to depart. this I command, Obey me in this point.

Carlos.

For such a perfect Lover as I am, It is a crime t'obey too readilie.

Isabella

No, no, I have some power upon thy spirit, Shew thy respect by thy obedience,

Carlos.

Love by respect is verie ill express••d, Who can obey well, knoweth not ••o love, This favourable councell, cruell Beautie, Was given to Carlos.

Isabella.

Yes to Carlos faithfull▪ But this fatall advise, whereof thou dost Presume so much, was never given vnto Carlos inconstant,

Carlos.

Madame, what's my crime?

Isabella.

Ingratefull, I will tell it thee, tis true I had for thee something about my heart That savoured of tendernes and that I know not what began to differ little

From the toy called Love; at last I was Tainted with that disease, when for my punishmēt I knew my love produ••ed but thy hate; True, thou feel'st it no more, now that thou seest That I am touch'd; I become trouble some To him that's deare to me; now that my flame Appeares, thine is consumed, and beginning To love, I cease to be belov'd. Belov'd? what have I said'? I learne by the effects, That thou feignest alwaies, and did'st never love me What canst thou answeare to excuse thy selfe. So just a reproach cannot but confound thee; Thou striv'st not more to justifie thy selfe, Thy silence speaks thee guilty and confounded.

Carlos.

This trouble which appeareth in my countenance Proceeds from your injustice, not my crime.

Isabella.

What have I said here which thou canst deny? Defend thy selfe.

Carlos.

You have forbidden me To justifie my selfe. I feare you would be Offended still with my discourse.

Isabella.

No, no Speak, Carlos, now my anger's vanished; Although thou shouldst be false, and prove i••. In such a high degree as to betray me, I might cōplaine thereof, but could not hate thee constant And whatsoever change thy heart should make. I should excuse thee if thou didst desire it.

Carlos.

Vpon your faire hands for this sweet expression, Let me imprint my joy, and my resentment.

He kisseth her hand.

SCENA SECUNDA.

Alphonso, Isabella, Carloo.

Alphonso.

WHat doe I see?

Carlos.

But Madame, your suspitions Injute my love extremelie.

Isabella.

My suspitions Give Carlos intimation that I love him.

Alphonso.

You love him?

Isabella.

Heaven! what heare I?

Carlos.

O hard Fortune!

Isabella.

I must dispose my selfe to dye, he'll kill me

—aside

Father.

Alphonso.

Vnworthy object of my anger Iustly provoked, I'm thy enemie, Call me no more thy Father: how! presum'st tho•• T'offend me in so high degree as thus Against the rules of reason and of honour To come to Carlos at his house by night, And in despising the Religious Cloyster Whereto I've destin'd thee, to give thy selfe Over to base amours?

Isabella.

I doe beseech you, Heare me, graunt me that savour, will you, Sir Refuse me?

Alphonso.

Yes, everie thing except death.

Carlos.

Heare equitie oppressed by my mouth, If her flame be a crime, I••m guilty onelie; Yes if it be a fault, daigne to remember, That I am the cause on't, and whom you ought Onelie to punish, be more just without Being more gentle, save the innocent. And destroy the offender.

Isabella.

No, against me Bend all your furie, if it be a crime To love, it is a vertue ••o be loved: The tendernes which I resent for Carlos Denotes his merit, and setts forth my weaknes: And if my passion be worthy death, Carlos is free, and I alone am guilty.

Alphonso.

Perfidious, thou shalt dye then.

Carlos

Oh, abandon That thought.

Alphonso.

Then Carlos with my honour take Away my life, that is the onely way To make her crime safe; nothing but my death Can stop her punishment.

Carlos.

Feare nothing from me, I have respect for you, and since I could not Appease your anger, I oppose no further But rather presse you now that Isabella May perish

Isabella

How▪ doe you presse my destruction? Oh now's the fatall moment, wherein I

Have just cause to complaine of destinie My heart is peirc'd with griefe to see you here With such injustice to become my judge, And not my complice. I was well resolv'd, Carlos, to dye, and quarrell'd not with fate, So long as I thought to expire for thee; But I believed not in this adventure That Love aswell as Nature would betray me, And that I should at last goe to the grave Thus by a Fathers stroak, and Lovers sentence.

Carlo••.

Madame. I've sayd but what I should have sayd: Once more I doe repeate it, since your daughter Must dye, Sir, and I cannot hinder it, Content your selfe to strike, but pray mistake not The bosome, heere direct your stroaks, tis heere That Isabella's lodg'd, heere she is Mistresse, Heere she is criminall, heere you must assault her To punish her, and in peircing my heart, You cannot misse her.

Isabella.

Oh, believe him not; Turne your armes here.

Alphonso aside.

Alphonso.

Readie to shed my blood, I feel my teares flow, and my choler's cold: I onelie by a sudden strange effect Am vanquish'd in the fight, let us feigne yet, Carlos, your cunning for a little time Retards her Punishment, but fatisfy me Vpon a thing that brought me heere, and wich Doth trouble me extreemely tell me truelie, Is my Sonne here, or no; if he be here, His death is but too ••ertaine.

Carlos.

I assure you,

He is not here, Sir.

Alphonso.

Since you doe assure me, I will not doubt it.

SCENA TERTIA.

Fabritio, Alphonso, Climene, Carlos, Isabella.

Fabritio.

WE are free at last From the Dukes hands.

Alphonso.

O Heaven! ist possible? Fabritio yet present him to mine eyes? I gave, Sir, too much credit to your words.

— to Carlos,

Carlos.

He was not here, Sir, when I said them to you,

Alphonso.

Thou blinded Sonne, through what ingratitude Build'st thou thy pleasures upon my disquiet? VVhat hath made thee despise a Fathers Will, whom thou know'st cherisheth thy life so much And why in violating all the rights Of nature, dost thou make so small accompt Of the light which thou owest me? Ingratefull!

Fabritio.

The care, Sir, of my safetie trouble••h you Too much, I doe not hate the light, but love it Lesse then Climene.

Alphonso.

I commanded thee To quit this residence••

Fabritio.

But I receiv'd Another order.

Alphonso.

How! from whom?

Fabritio.

From Love.

Alphonso.

Love makes no lawes but for those that will take 'em; And reason now forbiddeth thee to embrace it

Fabritio.

Oh reason, Sir, had left me, and I was Too much enchained, to depart.

Alphonso.

Canst thou Stay without shame, after an infidelitie?

Fabritio.

Climene is as constant as she's faire: My spirit was struck with an injust suspition, I'm disabused, and she's readie heere To follow me.

Alphonso.

To follow thee?

Climene.

Yes Sir, To follow him, I have engag'd my selfe; Though his condition be chang'd, I am not.

Alphonso.

I alwaies doubted till this very moment. Whether a woman could love constantly; Bu•• if your love hath any reason with it, Haste you to goe out of his fatall c••ntry.

Fabritio.

There's nothing that shall stop my stepps to mor∣row Sir, I sweare to you. —

Carlos.

Friend, thou shalt not sweare.

Fabritio.

If you believe it not, I doe assure you, You are in an extreme errour; who can stay us?

Carlos.

Pehaps, It may be I.

Fabritio.

You?

Carlos.

Yes, I will Tell you a sad adventure, which should be Equallie grievous ro us both; Ciimene Is by a fatall chaunce committed to My guard, and I'm responsible for her. I've the Dukes ordsr for it, and to add To the misfortune, I thought to have taken Climene, and I took your sister for her.

Isabella.

What! this was then the cause which troubled you So much but now?

Carlos.

You have but little reason To doubt of it; but understand my trouble In this extremitie, if Climene flyes, I shall be forc'd to expose Isabella Instead of her to the Dukes passions: I love her, and tis now no longer time To disguise my thoughts to you, Iudge, I pray you, If in this daunger I ought to expose her.

Fabritio.

How great is our misfortune?

Alphonso.

Not so great As it appeares unto you; to be free Of all feare, get ye gone all foure togeither.

The Duke will he reduced afterward To be appeas'd.

Carlos.

This is a most sure way; But whence proceeds this noise?

SCENA QUARTA.

Celin, Alphonso, Carlos, Fabritio, Climeno, Isabella, Celin ••o Carlos.

C••lin.

Sir, diverse men Armed with halberds desire speech with you.

Carlos.

Tis the Duke and his Guards, sure, their designe Surpriseth me.

Alphonso.

I have lost all my hope. Carlos, assuredly my sonne's discover'd.

Carlos.

We will be presently cleer'd on that point. Without light let Fabritio stay heere, And if he doubts that they are come to seek him Behind this false wall he may hide himselfe:

He shewes them a wall which is turn'd upon a pivot of Iron.

See, how it turnes; before his death my Father Fearing the malice of his enemies, Caused it to be made in secret for him, And I know that there is no wit so subtle•• That can finde out Fabritio in this place.

Alphonso.

To save thy life, doe this, Sonne, I conjure thee;

Climene.

And I Climene pray the••.

Fabritio.

Lobey As sonne, and I obey no lesse as Lover.

Carlos.

Let's cease discourse, and goe forth presently.

Exeunt all but Fabritio.

Fabritio alone.

Fabritio.

Heaven! must I alwaies be distracted thus Twixt feare and hope, and must so just a love Have such a rigid fortune? the Duke loves, Or abhorres her, and I know that there's reason To feare all things from him that hopeth nothing; And that' bove all things it is daungerous To be competitor with his Prince, and Rivall Vnto his Master. But what! heare I not Some person walke, at if he would come to me▪

SCENA QUINTA.

The Duke, Fabritio.

The Duke alone.

Duke.

I've passed through a streight way, now I enter Into a greater, yet am still in doubt, My hope's confounded, and my spirits dark▪ Which should light me in these obscurities? Am I'mongst mortalls? am I in some cave? Am I upon the earth, or in is center? Murthered Fabritio offereth himselfe To my remembrance, would Heaven punish 〈◊〉〈◊〉 For his unjust death? but I heare a noyse, Who's there?

Fabritio.

Fabritio.

Duke.

Fabritio! Appeares his Fantasme heere then for my punish∣ment, And am I sunk downe into Hell alive To suffer for the evills I've made him suffer?

Fabritio.

I heare the Dukes voice, which I know full well. Is it you then, Sir Duke?

Duke.

Th' art not deceiv'd. I am the authour of thy death, I will not Say any thing unto thee for to save My life thou canst without crime take it frō him Who hath tane thine from thee, all the feare which Resteth unto me in this sad misfortune, Proceedeth from my crime, not from my death; And if now any griefe oppresseth me, Tis not to dye, but to dye culpable.

Fabritio aside.

Fabritio.

He thinks me still dead, I will profit by This errour. —

aside.

Duke, you have just cause to feare My furie, your fate now is in my power, Nothing can stop the course of my revenge; I can now sacrifice your blood to mine; But, Sir, you are my Prince, and I le not doe it; Injustice I abhorre, and notwithstanding My anger, I would rather suffer it Then execute it.

Duke.

The mote thy respect Appeares for me, the more unjust's thy death And the more black my crime; by this, my fault Becomes doubly condemnable, the lesse

Sevete thou art in punishing me, the more I'm worthy punishment But if thy shadow Pretendeth to resp••ct me, what obligeth thee To persecute me thus in everie place? How comes it that thou dost conferre upon me Imperfect favouts? why dost thou pursue me? What ist thou dost defire?

Fabritio.

Since you ordaine it I'le speake it then; know, Sir, that this your trou∣ble Shall never see an end before you cease, To love Climene.

Duke.

Cease to love Climene? Oh! that's too much presumption, I may cease To live, but not to love her. to obtaine Thy wishes, thou shouldst ask a possible thing; But I should have abus'd thee if I had Flattered thy hope that I would cease to love That charming Beautie.

Fabritio.

To love in this manner Is to love like a tyrant.

Duke.

Well, I know That I love like a tyrant, but no matter: Know also that. Love who gives Law to me, Is yet a blinder tyrant farre then I: To force me to love this ingratefull Mistresse, He hath to much strength, and I soo much weak∣nes Onelie the hope that I can give thee is, Never to see her more, yet still to love her.

Fabritio.

He that can lose the object, can lose also The flame, the heart houlds not what the eye is

Depriv'd of, Love from our will hath his power; To cease to love, there needs but the desire: To put out all your flames, quench all your hope, And yeild Clim••ne to my constancie.

Duke.

But if I should doe so, what's ••hy designe?

Fabritio.

To marrie her.

Duke.

To marrie her? what! art thou Not dead then?

Fabritio.

What have I said?

Duke.

Thou shouldst be O'th' number of the living for this worke; Who cherisheth a body, must not be A shadow. Speak, and believe that thy death Hath cost me teares.

Fabritio.

He feigneth for to knowe me, And to destroy me afterward. —

aside.

Duke.

He answeareth not a word; Lets seek about. But least he should goe forth, tis requisite To keepe this porte: to know too where I am, Tis best to make a noyse; hola! who's there? Some one come to me.

Fabritio.

Heaven! whereto am I Reduc'd? but let me, ere they bring a light Advaunce towards the wall, and hide my selfe Behind it.

Duke.

I'le be cleered in this doubt, Heere comes a light.

SCENA SEXTA.

The Duke, Carlos, Alphonso, Valerio, Climene, Isabella, Guards.

Climene.

DOe we not see the Duke?

Duke.

See I againe my Mistresse?

Valerio.

Oh! we sought Your Highnesse everie where.

Duke.

Is this enchantment? Where am I?

Carlos.

In my house.

Duke.

But where is he?

Alphonso.

Who, Sir?

Duke.

Your Sonne.

Alphonso.

My Sonne. Your Highnes is abus'd.

Duke.

I've speaken with him; Vse no deceit towards me.

Alphonso.

Those are visions.

Duke.

They are truths, but he can't come forth, seek ••••∣refully On everie side.

Alphonso speaking to Carlos.

Oh Carlos how I feare!

Carlos addressing himselfe to Alphonso.

Carlos.

I say, be not afraid.

Valerio.

Sir, I've seene nothing.

Duke.

Heaven! what new prodegie is this? Iudge all If I have reason to believe my selfe Enchanted: I went forth the garden, thinking To see before mine eyes Fabritios Ghost, When suddenlie I fell into a precipice; And passing through places which I know not, Arriv'd heere, where to encrease the horrour Of my sad soule, his shadow once againe Appear'd before me, spake long time unto me, And us'd persuasions to make me cease To love Climene, and to yeild her to him. This discourse gave me much incertaintie Of his condition; I doubted if He was dead▪ but surprised and amaz'd By this successe, I need no more to doubt it. Would that it plased Heaven he were alive, I should be free then of that sad remorse Which wounds my conscience, I would doe him justice, And banishing my fires, would satisfie My selfe in rendering him happy.

Alphonso.

Sir, It is an easie generosity To lament, an oppressed enemie That is no longer to be fear'd, you think My sonne dead, and on that accompt, bewa••le him, But if he were alive indead, you would Be lesse humane.

Duke.

I would not break my word. By Heaven, by faire Climene, by all nature, I sweare to you Alphonso, that if now Fabritio yet alive should by a miracle. Appeare before mine eyes, so farre would I Be from opposing still his iust desires That I would willinglie resigne unto him. That Beautie so belou'd and Cherished.

SCENA SEPTIMA.

Fabritio, The Duke, Alphonso, Carlos, Climeno, Isabella, Valorio, Guards.

Fabritio comming forth from behind the false wall.

Fabritio.

Behould me living then, most generous Prince, Keep your word and your oath, and make me happie.

Duke.

Is this a Fantasme? Heaven!

Alphonso.

Shake of your feare. It is Fabritio living, and his death Is but a feigned thing.

Fabritio.

Sir, at your feete I humbly doe expect the blest effect Of what you promised.

Duke.

I'le keepe my word, Climene's yours.

Alphonso.

Sir, favour my poore familie In everie point, givs Carlos too in marriage Vnto my daughter, and approve with me Their innocent desires,

Carlos.

I humble crave That favour from your Highnesse

Duke.

I consent to't; Carlos, enioy your wish, although I am Deceived by your artifice; but losing My Mistresse, I lose my injustice too: In not betraying me, you did betray My glorie, who commands ill, should be ill Obey'd▪, unjust designes may justly be Destroy'd: Come follow me, and whilst your joyes Are making readie, ••ell me by what Art The Amourous Fantasme plaid his subtle part.

The End of the fifth and last Act.