Enter RICHARDETTO and PHILOTIS.
RICHARDETTO
My wretched wife – more wretched in her shame
Than in her wrongs to me – hath paid too soon
The forfeit of her modesty and life.3
And I am sure, my niece, though vengeance hover,
Keeping aloof yet from Soranzo’s fall,
Yet he will fall, and sink with his own weight.
I need not – now my heart persuades me so –
To further his confusion;4 there is one
Above begins to work. For, as I hear,
10 Debates5 already ’twixt his wife and him
Thicken and run to head.6 She, as ’tis said,
Slightens7 his love, and he abandons hers;
Much talk I hear. Since things go thus, my niece,
In tender love and pity of your youth,
My counsel is that you should free your years8
From hazard of these woes by flying hence
To fair Cremona,9 there to vow your soul
In holiness a holy votaress.10
Leave me to see the end of these extremes.1
20 All human worldly courses are uneven;2
No life is blessèd but the way to heaven.
PHILOTIS
Uncle, shall I resolve to be a nun?
RICHARDETTO
Ay, gentle niece, and in your hourly prayers
Remember me, your poor unhappy uncle.
Hie3 to Cremona now, as Fortune leads;
Your home your cloister, your best friends your beads.4
Your chaste and single life shall crown your birth:
Who dies a virgin lives a saint on earth.
PHILOTIS
Then farewell, world, and worldly thoughts, adieu.
30 Welcome, chaste vows; myself I yield to you. Exeunt.
Enter SORANZO unbraced,5 [with his sword drawn,] and
ANNABELLA dragged in.
SORANZO
Come, strumpet, famous6 whore! Were every drop
Of blood that runs in thy adulterous veins
A life, this sword – dost see’t? – should in one blow
Confound7 them all. Harlot, rare, notable harlot,
That with thy brazen face maintain’st8 thy sin,
Was there no man in Parma to be bawd9
To your loose, cunning whoredom else but I?
Must your hot itch and pleurisy1 of lust,
The heyday of your luxury,2 be fed
10 Up to a surfeit? And could none but I
Be picked out to be cloak3 to your close tricks,4
Your belly-sports? Now I must be the dad
To all that gallimaufry5 that’s stuffed
In thy corrupted, bastard-bearing womb?
Say, must I?
ANNABELLA
Beastly man! Why, ’tis thy fate:
I sued not to thee, for – but that I thought
Your over-loving lordship would have run
Mad on denial6 – had ye lent me time,
I would have told ’ee in what case7 I was,
But you would needs be doing.8
SORANZO
20 Whore of whores!
Dar’st thou tell me this?
ANNABELLA
Oh yes! Why not?
You were deceived in me; ’twas not for love
I chose you, but for honour.9 Yet know this:
Would you be patient yet, and hide your shame,
I’d see whether I could love you.
SORANZO
Excellent quean!10
Why, art thou not with child?
ANNABELLA
What needs all this,
When ’tis superfluous? I confess I am.
Tell me by whom.
ANNABELLA
Soft, sir, ’twas not in my bargain.1
Yet somewhat, sir, to stay your longing stomach2
30 I’m content t’acquaint you with. The man,
The more than man, that got this sprightly boy –
For ’tis a boy, that’s for your glory, sir:
Your heir shall be a son.
SORANZO
Damnable monster!
ANNABELLA
Nay, and you will not hear, I’ll speak no more.
SORANZO
Yes, speak, and speak thy last.
ANNABELLA
A match, a match.3
This noble creature was in every part
So angel-like, so glorious, that a woman
Who had not been but human, as was I,
Would have kneeled to him, and have begged for love.
40 You? Why, you are not worthy once to name
His name without true worship, or, indeed,
Unless you kneeled, to hear another name him.
SORANZO
What was he called?
ANNABELLA
We are not come to that.
Let it suffice that you shall have the glory
To father what so brave4 a father got.
In brief, had not this chance fall’n out as’t doth,
I never had been troubled with a thought
That you had been a creature;1 but for marriage,
I scarce dream yet of that.
SORANZO
Tell me his name.
ANNABELLA
50 Alas, alas, there’s all.
Will you believe?
SORANZO
What?
ANNABELLA
You shall never know.
SORANZO
How!
ANNABELLA
Never; if you do, let me be cursed.
SORANZO
Not know it, strumpet? I’ll rip up thy heart
And find it there.
ANNABELLA
Do, do!
SORANZO
And with my teeth
Tear the prodigious2 lecher joint by joint!
ANNABELLA
Ha, ha, ha! The man’s merry.
SORANZO
Dost thou laugh?
Come, whore, tell me your lover, or by truth
I’ll hew thy flesh to shreds. Who is’t?
ANNABELLA (sings)
SORANZO [grabbing ANNABELLA]
60 Thus will I pull thy hair, and thus I’ll drag
Thy lust-belepered1 body through the dust.
Yet tell his name.
ANNABELLA (sings)
SORANZO
Dost thou triumph? The treasure of the earth
Shall not redeem3 thee. Were there kneeling kings
Did beg thy life, or angels did come down
To plead in tears, yet should not all prevail
Against my rage.
[He points his sword at her heart.]
Dost thou not tremble yet?
ANNABELLA
At what? To die? No, be a gallant hangman.4
70 I dare thee to the worst: strike, and strike home.
I leave revenge behind, and thou shalt feel’t.
SORANZO
Yet tell me ere thou diest, and tell me truly:
Knows thy old father this?
ANNABELLA
No, by my life.
SORANZO
Wilt thou confess, and I will spare thy life?
ANNABELLA
My life? I will not buy my life so dear.
SORANZO
I will not slack5 my vengeance.
Enter VASQUEZ.
VASQUEZ
What d’ee mean, sir?
[He gets between ANNABELLA and SORANZO’s sword.]
Forbear, Vasquez! Such a damnèd whore
Deserves no pity.
VASQUEZ
Now the gods forfend!1
80 And would you be her executioner, and kill her in your rage too? Oh, ’twere most unmanlike! She is your wife. What faults hath been done by her before she married you, were not against you. Alas, poor lady, what hath she committed which any lady in Italy, in the like case, would not? Sir, you must be ruled by your reason and not by your fury – that were unhuman and beastly.
SORANZO
She shall not live.
VASQUEZ
Come, she must. You would have her confess the authors of her present misfortunes, I warrant ’ee. ’Tis an unconscionable
90 demand, and she should lose the estimation that I, for my part, hold of her worth if she had done it. Why, sir, you ought not, of all men living, to know it. Good sir, be reconciled. Alas, good gentlewoman!
ANNABELLA
Pish, do not beg for me. I prize my life
As nothing. If the man will needs be mad,
Why, let him take it.
SORANZO
Vasquez, hear’st thou this?
VASQUEZ
Yes, and commend her for it. In this she shows the nobleness of a gallant spirit, and beshrew2 my heart but it becomes her rarely. [Aside to SORANZO] Sir, in any case smother your
100 revenge. Leave the scenting-out your wrongs to me. Be ruled, as you respect your honour, or you mar all. [Aloud] Sir, if ever my service were of any credit with you, be not so violent in your distractions.3 You are married now. What a triumph might the report of this give to other neglected suitors! ’Tis as manlike to bear extremities,1 as godlike to forgive.
SORANZO
O Vasquez, Vasquez, in this piece of flesh,
This faithless face of hers, had I laid up
The treasure of my heart! [To ANNABELLA] Hadst thou been virtuous,
Fair, wicked woman, not the matchless joys
110 Of life itself had made me wish to live
With any saint but thee. Deceitful creature,
How hast thou mocked my hopes, and in the shame
Of thy lewd womb even buried me alive!
I did too dearly love thee.
VASQUEZ (Aside [to SORANZO])
This is well.
Follow this temper2 with some passion; be brief and moving – ’tis for the purpose.
SORANZO [To ANNABELLA]
Be witness to my words thy soul and thoughts,
And tell me: didst not think that in my heart
I did too superstitiously3 adore thee?
ANNABELLA
120 I must confess, I know you loved me well.
SORANZO
And wouldst thou use me thus? O Annabella,
Be thou assured, whatsoe’er the villain was
That thus hath tempted thee to this disgrace,
Well he might lust, but never loved like me.
He doted on the picture that hung out
Upon thy cheeks, to please his humorous4 eye,
Not on the part I loved which was thy heart,
And, as I thought, thy virtues.
O my lord,
These words wound deeper than your sword could do.
VASQUEZ
130 Let me not ever take comfort, but I begin to weep myself, so much I pity him. Why, madam, I knew when his rage was overpassed what it would come to.
SORANZO [Sheathing his sword]
Forgive me, Annabella. Though thy youth
Hath tempted thee above thy strength to folly,
Yet will not I forget what I should be,
And what I am: a husband. In that name
Is hid divinity. If I do find
That thou wilt yet be true, here I remit1
All former faults, and take thee to my bosom.
VASQUEZ
140 By my troth, and that’s a point of noble charity.
ANNABELLA [Kneeling]
Sir, on my knees –
SORANZO
Rise up; you shall not kneel.
Get you to your chamber; see you make no show
Of alteration.2 I’ll be with you straight.
My reason tells me now that ’tis as common
To err in frailty as to be a woman.
Go to your chamber. Exit ANNABELLA.
VASQUEZ
So, this was somewhat to the matter. What do you think of your heaven of happiness now, sir?
SORANZO
I carry hell about me. All my blood
150 Is fired in swift revenge.
SORANZO
I’ll make her tell herself, or –
VASQUEZ
SORANZO
Delay in vengeance gives a heavier blow. Exit.
VASQUEZ
Ah, sirrah, here’s work for the nonce!7 I had a suspicion of a bad matter in my head a pretty whiles ago, but after my madam’s scurvy looks here at home, her waspish perverseness and loud fault-finding, then I remembered the proverb that ‘Where hens crow, and cocks hold their peace, there are sorry houses.’8 Sfoot, if the lower parts of a she-tailor’s9 cunning can cover such a swelling in the stomach, I’ll never
170 blame a false stitch in a shoe whiles I live again. Up,10 and up so quick? And so quickly too? ’Twere a fine policy to learn by whom; this must be known.
Enter PUTTANA [weeping].
And I have thought on’t – here’s the way or none. [To PUTTANA] What, crying, old mistress? Alas, alas, I cannot blame ’ee. We have a lord, heaven help us, is so mad1 as the devil himself, the more shame for him.
PUTTANA
O Vasquez, that ever I was born to see this day! Doth he use thee so too sometimes, Vasquez?
VASQUEZ
Me? Why, he makes a dog of me; but if some were of my
180 mind, I know what we would do. As sure as I am an honest man, he will go near to kill my lady with unkindness. Say she be with child: is that such a matter for a young woman of her years to be blamed for?
PUTTANA
Alas, good heart; it is against her will full sore.
VASQUEZ
I durst be sworn, all his madness is for that she will not confess whose ’tis, which he will know; and when he doth know it, I am so well acquainted with his humour2 that he will forget all straight. Well, I could wish she would in plain terms tell all, for that’s the way indeed.
PUTTANA
190 Do you think so?
VASQUEZ
Foh, I know’t, provided that he did not win her to’t by force.3 He was once in a mind, that you could tell, and meant to have wrung it out of you, but I somewhat pacified him for that. Yet, sure, you know a great deal –
PUTTANA
Heaven forgive us all, I know a little, Vasquez.
VASQUEZ
Why should you not? Who else should? Upon my conscience, she loves you dearly, and you would not betray her to any affliction4 for the world.
PUTTANA
Not for all the world, by my faith and troth, Vasquez.
200 ’Twere pity of your life if you should; but in this you should both relieve her present discomforts, pacify my lord, and gain yourself everlasting love and preferment.
PUTTANA
Dost think so, Vasquez?
VASQUEZ
Nay, I know’t. Sure, ’twas some near and entire1 friend.
PUTTANA
’Twas a dear friend, indeed, but –
VASQUEZ
But what? Fear not to name him – my life between you and danger! ’Faith, I think ’twas no base fellow.
PUTTANA
Thou wilt stand between me and harm?
VASQUEZ
PUTTANA
210 ’Twas even no worse than her own brother.
VASQUEZ
Her brother Giovanni, I warrant ’ee?
PUTTANA
Even he, Vasquez: as brave4 a gentleman as ever kissed fair lady. Oh, they love most perpetually.
VASQUEZ
A brave gentleman, indeed. Why, therein I commend her choice. [Aside] Better and better! [Aloud] You are sure ’twas he?
PUTTANA
Sure; and you shall see he will not be long from her, too.
VASQUEZ
He were to blame if he would. But may I believe thee?
220 Believe me? Why, dost think I am a Turk or a Jew?1 No, Vasquez, I have known their dealings too long to belie them now.
VASQUEZ
Where are you? There within, sirs!
Enter BANDITTI.2
PUTTANA
How now? What are these?
VASQUEZ
You shall know presently.3 Come, sirs, take me this old, damnable hag, gag her instantly, and put out her eyes! Quickly, quickly!
[The BANDITTI seize PUTTANA.]
PUTTANA
Vasquez, Vasquez!
VASQUEZ
Gag her, I say! ’Sfoot, d’ee suffer her to prate? What, d’ee fumble about? Let me come to her. I’ll help your old gums,
230 you toad-bellied bitch!
[He gags PUTTANA.]
Sirs, carry her closely4 into the coal-house, and put out her eyes instantly. If she roars, slit her nose. D’ee hear? Be speedy and sure.
Exeunt [BANDITTI] with PUTTANA.
Why, this is excellent and above expectation! Her own brother? Oh, horrible! To what a height of liberty5 in damnation hath the devil trained6 our age! Her brother? Well, there’s yet but a beginning. I must to my lord, and tutor him better in his points of vengeance. Now I see how a smooth tale goes beyond a smooth tail.7
Enter GIOVANNI.
GIOVANNI
Where’s my sister?
VASQUEZ
Troubled with a new sickness, my lord; she’s somewhat ill.
GIOVANNI
Took too much of the flesh,1 I believe.
VASQUEZ
Troth, sir, and you, I think, have e’en hit it.2 But my virtuous lady!
GIOVANNI
Where’s she?
VASQUEZ
In her chamber. Please you visit her? She is alone. [GIOVANNI gives him money.] Your liberality hath doubly made me your
250 servant, and ever shall, ever!
Exit GIOVANNI.
Enter SORANZO.
Sir, I am made a man. I have plied my cue3 with cunning and success. I beseech you, let’s be private.
SORANZO
My lady’s brother’s come; now he’ll know all.
VASQUEZ
Let him know’t. I have made some of them fast4 enough.
How have you dealt with my lady?
SORANZO
Gently, as thou hast counselled. Oh, my soul
Runs circular5 in sorrow for revenge,
But, Vasquez, thou shalt know –
Nay, I will know no more, for now comes your turn to know.
260 I would not talk so openly1 with you. Let my young master take time enough, and go at pleasure. He is sold to death, and the devil shall not ransom him. Sir, I beseech you – your privacy.
SORANZO
No conquest can gain glory of my fear.2 Exeunt.
Enter ANNABELLA above [with a letter].
ANNABELLA
Pleasures, farewell, and all ye thriftless3 minutes
Wherein false joys have spun a weary life;
To these, my fortunes, now I take my leave.
Thou precious Time, that swiftly rid’st in post4
Over the world to finish up the race
Of my last fate, here stay thy restless course,
And bear to ages that are yet unborn
A wretched, woeful woman’s tragedy.
My conscience now stands up against my lust5
10 With depositions6 charactered in guilt,7
Enter FRIAR [below].
And tells me I am lost. Now I confess,
Beauty that clothes the outside of the face
Is cursèd if it be not clothed with grace.
Here, like a turtle,1 mewed up2 in a cage,
Unmated,3 I converse with air and walls,
And descant on my vile unhappiness.
O Giovanni, that hast had the spoil4
Of thine own virtues and my modest fame;
Would thou hadst been less subject to those stars
20 That luckless reigned at my nativity!
Oh, would the scourge due to my black offence
Might pass from thee, that I alone might feel
The torment of an uncontrollèd flame.5
FRIAR [Aside]
What’s this I hear?
ANNABELLA
That man, that blessèd friar,
Who joined in ceremonial knot my hand
To him whose wife I now am, told me oft
I trod the path to death, and showed me how.
But they who sleep in lethargies of lust
Hug their confusion, making heaven unjust,6
And so did I.
FRIAR [Aside]
30 Here’s music to the soul.
ANNABELLA
Forgive me, my good genius,7 and this once
Be helpful to my ends.8 Let some good man
Pass this way, to whose trust I may commit
This paper, double-lined with tears and blood;
Which, being granted, here I sadly9 vow
Repentance, and a leaving of that life
I long have died in.
FRIAR [coming forward]
Lady, heaven hath heard you,
And hath by providence ordained that I
Should be his minister for your behoof.1
ANNABELLA
Ha, what are you?
FRIAR
40 Your brother’s friend, the friar,
Glad in my soul that I have lived to hear
This free confession ’twixt your peace and you.
What would you, or to whom? Fear not to speak.
ANNABELLA
Is heaven so bountiful? Then I have found
More favour than I hoped. Here, holy man,
[She] throws [down] a letter. [The FRIAR takes it up.]
Commend me to my brother. Give him that,
That letter. Bid him read it and repent.
Tell him that I – imprisoned in my chamber,
Barred of all company, even of my guardian,2
To blush at what hath passed. Bid him be wise,
And not believe the friendship of my lord.
I fear much more than I can speak. Good father,
The place is dangerous, and spies are busy;
I must break off. You’ll do’t?
FRIAR
Be sure I will,
And fly with speed. My blessing ever rest
With thee, my daughter. Live to die more blessed. Exit FRIAR.
ANNABELLA
Thanks to the heavens, who have prolonged my breath
To this good use. Now I can welcome death. Exit.
Enter SORANZO and VASQUEZ.
VASQUEZ
SORANZO
No more, I say no more!
VASQUEZ
A cuckold is a goodly, tame beast,3 my lord.
SORANZO
I am resolved! Urge not another word.
My thoughts are great,4 and all as resolute
As thunder. In meantime, I’ll cause our lady
10 To deck herself in all her bridal robes,
Kiss her, and fold her gently in my arms.
Be gone. Yet hear you, are the banditti ready
To wait in ambush?
VASQUEZ
Good sir, trouble not yourself about other business than your own resolution. Remember that time lost cannot be recalled.
SORANZO
With all the cunning words thou canst, invite
The states5 of Parma to my birthday’s feast.
Haste to my brother-rival and his father;
20 Entreat them gently; bid them not to fail.
Be speedy and return.
Let not your pity betray you till my coming back:
Think upon incest and cuckoldry.
SORANZO
Revenge is all the ambition I aspire;1
To that I’ll climb or fall. My blood’s on fire! Exeunt.
Enter GIOVANNI.
GIOVANNI
Busy opinion2 is an idle fool,
That, as a school-rod3 keeps a child in awe,
Frights the unexperienced temper of the mind.
So did it me, who, ere my precious sister
Was married, thought all taste of love would die
In such a contract; but I find no change
Of pleasure in this formal law of sports.4
She is still one5 to me, and every kiss
As sweet and as delicious as the first
10 I reaped, when yet the privilege of youth
Entitled her a virgin. Oh, the glory
Of two united hearts like hers and mine!
Let poring bookmen dream of other worlds;
My world, and all of happiness, is here,
And I’d not change it for the best to come.
A life of pleasure is Elysium.
Enter FRIAR.
Father, you enter on the jubilee1
Of my retired2 delights. Now I can tell you,
The hell you oft have prompted3 is nought else
20 But slavish and fond, superstitious fear,
And I could prove it too –
FRIAR
Thy blindness slays thee!
Look there; ’tis writ to thee.
Gives [him] the letter.
GIOVANNI
From whom?
FRIAR
Unrip the seals and see.
[GIOVANNI reads the letter.]
The blood’s yet seething-hot that will anon
Be frozen harder than congealed coral.4
Why d’ee change colour, son?
GIOVANNI
’Fore heaven, you make
Some petty devil factor5 ’twixt my love
And your religion-maskèd sorceries.
Where had you this?
FRIAR
GIOVANNI
’Tis her hand,
I know’t; and ’tis all written in her blood.
She writes I know not what. ‘Death’? I’ll not fear
An armèd thunderbolt aimed at my heart.
She writes we are discovered. Pox on dreams
Of low, faint-hearted cowardice! ‘Discovered’?
The devil we are! Which way is’t possible?
Are we grown traitors to our own delights?
Confusion take such dotage;1 ’tis but forged.
40 This is your peevish chattering, weak old man.
Enter VASQUEZ.
Now, sir, what news bring you?
VASQUEZ
My lord, according to his yearly custom keeping this day a feast in honour of his birthday, by me invites you thither. Your worthy father, with the Pope’s reverend Nuncio and other magnificos of Parma, have promised their presence. Wilt please you to be of the number?
GIOVANNI
Yes, tell them I dare come.
VASQUEZ
Dare come?
GIOVANNI
So I said; and tell him more, I will come.
VASQUEZ
50 These words are strange to me.
GIOVANNI
Say I will come.
VASQUEZ
You will not miss?2
GIOVANNI
Yet more? I’ll come. Sir, are you answered?
VASQUEZ
So I’ll say. My service to you. Exit VASQUEZ.
FRIAR
You will not go, I trust.
GIOVANNI
Not go? For what?
FRIAR
Oh, do not go! This feast, I’ll gage3 my life,
Is but a plot to train4 you to your ruin.
Be ruled, you sha’ not go.
Not go? Stood Death
Threat’ning his armies of confounding plagues,
60 With hosts of dangers, hot as blazing stars,1
I would be there. Not go? Yes, and resolve
To strike as deep in slaughter as they all,
For I will go.
FRIAR
Go where thou wilt. I see
The wildness of thy fate draws to an end,
To a bad, fearful end. I must not stay
To know thy fall. Back to Bologna I
With speed will haste, and shun this coming blow.
Parma, farewell! Would I had never known thee,
Or aught2 of thine! Well, young man, since no prayer
70 Can make thee safe, I leave thee to despair. Exit FRIAR.
Despair or tortures of a thousand hells –
All’s one to me: I have set up my rest.3
Now, now, work serious thoughts on baneful4 plots.
Be all a man, my soul! Let not the curse
Of old prescription5 rend from me the gall6
Of courage, which enrols7 a glorious death.
If I must totter like a well-grown oak,
Some under-shrubs shall in my weighty fall
Be crushed to splits;8 with me they all shall perish. Exit.
Enter SORANZO, VASQUEZ and BANDITTI.
SORANZO
You will not fail, or shrink in the attempt?
VASQUEZ
ALL THE BANDITTI
We’ll make a murder!
SORANZO
Here’s gold [giving them money]; here’s more; want5 nothing. What you do
Is noble and an act of brave revenge.
10 I’ll make ye rich banditti, and all free.
ALL
Liberty, liberty!
VASQUEZ
Hold! Take every man a vizard.6
[The BANDITTI put on masks.]
When ye are withdrawn, keep as much silence as you can possibly. You know the watchword, till which be spoken move not; but when you hear that, rush in like a stormy flood. I need not instruct ye in your own profession.
ALL
No, no, no.
In, then. Your ends are profit and preferment. Away!
Exeunt BANDITTI.
SORANZO
The guests will all come, Vasquez?
VASQUEZ
20 Yes, sir, and now let me a little edge1 your resolution. You see nothing is unready to this great work but a great mind in you. Call to your remembrance your disgraces, your loss of honour, Hippolita’s blood, and arm your courage in your own wrongs. So shall you best right those wrongs in vengeance which you may truly call your own.
SORANZO
’Tis well. The less I speak, the more I burn,
And blood shall quench that flame.
VASQUEZ
Now you begin to turn Italian!2 This beside: when my young incest-monger comes, he will be sharp set on his old bit.3
30 Give him time enough; let him have your chamber and bed at liberty. Let my hot hare4 have law5 ere he be hunted to his death, that if it be possible, he may post6 to hell in the very act of his damnation.
Enter GIOVANNI.
SORANZO
It shall be so; and see, as we would wish,
He comes himself first. [To GIOVANNI] Welcome, my much-loved brother.
Now I perceive you honour me; y’are welcome.
But where’s my father?7
With the other states,
Attending on the Nuncio of the Pope
To wait upon him hither. How’s my sister?
SORANZO
40 Like a good housewife – scarcely ready yet.
Y’are best walk to her chamber.
GIOVANNI
If you will.
SORANZO
I must expect1 my honourable friends.
Good brother, get her forth.
GIOVANNI
You are busy, sir. Exit GIOVANNI.
VASQUEZ
Even as the great devil himself would have it! Let him go and glut himself in his own destruction.
Flourish.
Hark, the Nuncio is at hand. Good sir, be ready to receive him.
Enter CARDINAL, FLORIO, DONADO, RICHARDETTO
[disguised] and ATTENDANTS.
SORANZO [To the CARDINAL]
Most reverend lord, this grace2 hath made me proud:
That you vouchsafe3 my house. I ever rest
Your humble servant for this noble favour.
CARDINAL
50 You are our friend, my lord. His Holiness
Shall understand how zealously you honour
Saint Peter’s vicar4 in his substitute.
Our special love to you.
SORANZO
Signors, to you
My welcome, and my ever best of thanks
For this so memorable courtesy.
Pleaseth your grace to walk near?
CARDINAL
My lord, we come
To celebrate your feast with civil mirth,
As ancient custom teacheth. We will go.
SORANZO [To ATTENDANTS]
Attend his grace, there! [To his guests] Signors, keep your way.1 Exeunt.
Enter GIOVANNI and ANNABELLA, lying on a bed.
GIOVANNI
What, changed2 so soon? Hath your new, sprightly lord
Found out a trick in night-games3 more than we
Could know in our simplicity? Ha, is’t so?
Or does the fit4 come on you to prove treacherous
To your past vows and oaths?
ANNABELLA
Why should you jest
At my calamity, without all sense
Of the approaching dangers you are in?
GIOVANNI
What danger’s half so great as thy revolt?
Thou art a faithless sister, else, thou know’st,
10 Malice, or any treachery beside,
Would stoop to my bent brows.5 Why, I hold fate
Clasped in my fist, and could command the course
Of time’s eternal motion hadst thou been
One thought more steady than an ebbing sea.
And what? You’ll now be honest? That’s resolved?
ANNABELLA
Brother, dear brother, know what I have been,
And know that now there’s but a dying-time
’Twixt us and our confusion.1 Let’s not waste
These precious hours in vain and useless speech.
20 Alas, these gay attires2 were not put on
But to some end; this sudden, solemn3 feast
Was not ordained to riot in expense:4
I, that have now been chambered here alone,
Barred of my guardian, or of any else,
Am not for nothing at an instant freed
To fresh access.5 Be not deceived, my brother:
This banquet is an harbinger of death
To you and me. Resolve yourself it is,
And be prepared to welcome it.
GIOVANNI
Well then,
30 The schoolmen6 teach that all this globe of earth
Shall be consumed to ashes in a minute.
ANNABELLA
So I have read too.
GIOVANNI
But ’twere somewhat strange
To see the waters burn. Could I believe
This might be true, I could believe as well
There might be hell or heaven.
ANNABELLA
That’s most certain.
GIOVANNI
A dream, a dream; else in this other world
We should know one another.
So we shall.
GIOVANNI
Have you heard so?
ANNABELLA
For certain.
GIOVANNI
But d’ee think,
That I shall see you there, you look on me?
40 May we kiss one another, prate1 or laugh,
Or do as we do here?
ANNABELLA
I know not that;
But, good,2 for the present, what d’ee mean
To free yourself from danger? Some way think
How to escape. I’m sure the guests are come.
GIOVANNI
Look up, look here: what see you in my face?
ANNABELLA
Distraction and a troubled countenance.
GIOVANNI
Death and a swift, repining3 wrath! Yet look:
What see you in mine eyes?
ANNABELLA
Methinks you weep.
GIOVANNI
I do, indeed. These are the funeral tears
50 Shed on your grave; these furrowed up my cheeks
When first I loved and knew not how to woo.
Fair Annabella, should I here repeat
The story of my life, we might lose time.
Be record, all the spirits of the air,
And all things else that are, that day and night,
Early and late, the tribute which my heart
Hath paid to Annabella’s sacred love
Hath been these tears, which are her mourners now.
Never till now did Nature do her best
60 To show a matchless beauty to the world,
Which, in an instant, ere it scarce was seen,
The jealous Destinies1 require again.
Pray, Annabella, pray. Since we must part,
Go thou, white in thy soul, to fill a throne
Of innocence and sanctity in heaven.
Pray, pray, my sister.
ANNABELLA
Then I see your drift.2
Ye blessed angels, guard me!
GIOVANNI
So say I.
Kiss me.
[They kiss.]
If ever after-times should hear
Of our fast-knit affections, though perhaps
70 The laws of conscience and of civil use3
May justly blame us, yet when they but know
Our loves, that love will wipe away that rigour4
Which would in other incests be abhorred.
Give me your hand. How sweetly life doth run
In these well-coloured veins! How constantly
These palms do promise health! But I could chide
With Nature for this cunning flattery.5
Kiss me again.
[They kiss.]
Forgive me.
ANNABELLA
With my heart.
GIOVANNI
Farewell.
Will you be gone?
GIOVANNI
Be dark, bright sun,
80 And make this midday night, that thy gilt rays
May not behold a deed will turn their splendour
More sooty than the poets feign their Styx.1
One other kiss, my sister.
[He draws a dagger.]
ANNABELLA
What means this?
GIOVANNI
To save thy fame,2 and kill thee in a kiss.
Stabs her [as they kiss].
Thus die, and die by me, and by my hand.
Revenge is mine;3 honour doth love command.
ANNABELLA
O brother, by your hand?
GIOVANNI
When thou art dead
I’ll give my reasons for’t; for to dispute
With thy – even in thy death – most lovely beauty
90 Would make me stagger4 to perform this act
Which I most glory in.
ANNABELLA
Forgive him, heaven,
And me my sins. Farewell, brother unkind,5 unkind.
Mercy, great heaven! Oh, oh! [She] dies.
She’s dead. Alas, good soul. The hapless1 fruit
That in her womb received its life from me,
Hath had from me a cradle and a grave.
I must not dally. This sad marriage-bed,
In all her best, bore her alive and dead.
Soranzo, thou hast missed thy aim in this;
100 I have prevented now thy reaching2 plots
And killed a love for whose each drop of blood
I would have pawned my heart. Fair Annabella,
How over-glorious3 art thou in thy wounds,
Triumphing over infamy and hate!
Shrink not, courageous hand. Stand up, my heart,
And boldly act my last and greater part!
Exit with the body.
A banquet.
Enter CARDINAL, FLORIO, DONADO, SORANZO,
RICHARDETTO [disguised], VASQUEZ and ATTENDANTS.
They take their places [at the table].
VASQUEZ [Aside to SORANZO]
Remember, sir, what you have to do. Be wise and resolute.
SORANZO [Aside to VASQUEZ]
Enough! My heart is fixed. [To the CARDINAL] Pleaseth your grace
To taste these coarse confections?4 Though the use
Of such set5 entertainments more consists
In custom than in cause,6 yet, reverend sir,
I am still made your servant by your presence.
And we your friend.
SORANZO
But where’s my brother, Giovanni?
Enter GIOVANNI, with a heart upon his dagger.
GIOVANNI
Here, here, Soranzo, trimmed1 in reeking2 blood
That triumphs over death; proud in the spoil
10 Of love and vengeance!3 Fate, or all the powers
That guide the motions of immortal souls,
Could not prevent me.
CARDINAL
What means this?
FLORIO
Son Giovanni?
SORANZO [Aside]
Shall I be forestalled?
GIOVANNI
Be not amazed. If your misgiving4 hearts
Shrink at an idle5 sight, what bloodless fear
Of coward passion would have seized your senses,
Had you beheld the rape6 of life and beauty
Which I have acted? My sister, O my sister!
FLORIO
Ha! What of her?
GIOVANNI
The glory of my deed
20 Darkened the midday sun, made noon as night.
You came to feast, my lords, with dainty fare.
I came to feast too, but I digged for food
In a much richer mine than gold or stone5
Of any value balanced.1 ’Tis a heart,
A heart, my lords, in which is mine entombed.
Look well upon’t. D’ee know’t?
VASQUEZ
What strange riddle’s this?
GIOVANNI
’Tis Annabella’s heart, ’tis! Why d’ee startle?2
I vow ’tis hers. This dagger’s point ploughed up
30 Her fruitful womb, and left to me the fame
Of a most glorious executioner.
FLORIO
Why, madman, art thyself?
GIOVANNI
Yes, father, and that times to come may know
How, as my fate, I honoured my revenge,
List, father: to your ears I will yield up
How much I have deserved to be your son.3
FLORIO
What is’t thou say’st?
GIOVANNI
Nine moons have had their changes
Since I first throughly4 viewed and truly loved
Your daughter and my sister.
FLORIO
How? Alas,
My lords, he’s a frantic madman!
GIOVANNI
40 Father, no.
For nine months’ space, in secret I enjoyed
Sweet Annabella’s sheets; nine months I lived
A happy monarch of her heart and her.
Soranzo, thou know’st this; thy paler cheek
Bears the confounding print of thy disgrace.
For her too fruitful womb too soon bewrayed1
The happy passage2 of our stol’n delights,
And made her mother to a child unborn.
CARDINAL
Incestuous villain!
FLORIO
GIOVANNI
50 It does not. ’Tis the oracle of truth –
I vow it is so.
SORANZO
I shall burst with fury!
[To VASQUEZ] Bring the strumpet forth!
VASQUEZ
I shall, sir.
GIOVANNI
Do, sir. Exit VASQUEZ.
Have you all no faith
To credit yet my triumphs? Here I swear,
By all that you call sacred, by the love
I bore my Annabella whilst she lived,
These hands have from her bosom ripped this heart.
Enter VASQUEZ.
Is’t true or no, sir?
VASQUEZ
’Tis most strangely true.
FLORIO
Cursèd man, have I lived to – [He] dies.
CARDINAL
Hold up, Florio!
60 [To GIOVANNI] Monster of children, see what thou hast done:
Broke thy old father’s heart! [To the others] Is none of you Dares venture on him?1
GIOVANNI
Let ’em! O my father!
How well his death becomes him in his griefs!
Why, this was done with courage. Now survives
None of our house but I, gilt2 in the blood
Of a fair sister and a hapless father.
SORANZO
Inhuman scorn of men, hast thou a thought
T’outlive thy murders?
GIOVANNI
Yes, I tell thee, yes;
For in my fists I bear the twists of life.3
70 Soranzo, see this heart which was thy wife’s:
Thus I exchange it royally4 for thine,5
[He stabs SORANZO.]
And thus and thus! [Stabs him again.] Now brave revenge is mine.
VASQUEZ
I cannot hold any longer. You, sir, are you grown insolent in your butcheries? Have at you!
GIOVANNI
Come, I am armed to meet thee!
[VASQUEZ and GIOVANNI] fight. [VASQUEZ wounds GIOVANNI.]
VASQUEZ
No? Will it6 not be yet? If this will not, another shall.
[He stabs GIOVANNI again.]
Enter BANDITTI [masked, with weapons drawn].
GIOVANNI
Welcome! Come more of you; whate’er you be,
I dare your worst –
[They fight. GIOVANNI is wounded.]
80 Oh, I can stand no longer. Feeble arms,
Have you so soon lost strength?
VASQUEZ
Now, you are welcome, sir. [To the BANDITTI] Away, my masters! All is done. Shift for yourselves3 – your reward is your own – shift for yourselves!
BANDITTI
Away, away! Exeunt BANDITTI.
VASQUEZ [To SORANZO]
How d’ee, my lord? See you this? How is’t?
SORANZO
Dead, but in death well pleased that I have lived
To see my wrongs revenged on that black devil.
O Vasquez, to thy bosom let me give
90 My last of breath.4 Let not that lecher live – Oh! [He] dies.
VASQUEZ
The reward of peace and rest be with him, my ever-dearest lord and master.
GIOVANNI
Whose hand gave me this wound?
VASQUEZ
Mine, sir; I was your first man. Have you enough?
GIOVANNI
I thank thee. Thou hast done for me
But what I would have else done on myself.
Art sure thy lord is dead?
O impudent slave,
As sure as I am sure to see thee die!
CARDINAL
Think on thy life and end, and call for mercy.
GIOVANNI
100 Mercy? Why, I have found it in this justice.
CARDINAL
Strive yet to cry to heaven.
GIOVANNI
Oh, I bleed fast.
Death, thou art a guest long looked-for; I embrace
Thee and thy wounds. Oh, my last minute comes.
Where’er I go, let me enjoy this grace:
Freely to view my Annabella’s face. [He] dies.
DONADO
Strange miracle of justice!
CARDINAL
Raise up the city! We shall be murdered all!
VASQUEZ
You need not fear. You shall not. This strange task being ended, I have paid the duty to the son which I have vowed to
110 the father.
CARDINAL
Speak, wretched villain, what incarnate fiend
Hath led thee on to this?
VASQUEZ
Honesty, and pity of my master’s wrongs. For know, my lord, I am by birth a Spaniard,1 brought forth my country in my youth by Lord Soranzo’s father, whom, whilst he lived, I served faithfully; since whose death I have been to this man, as I was to him. What I have done was duty, and I repent nothing but that the loss of my life had not ransomed his.
Say, fellow, know’st thou any yet unnamed
120 Of counsel1 in this incest?
VASQUEZ
Yes, an old woman, sometimes2 guardian to this murdered lady.
CARDINAL
And what’s become of her?
VASQUEZ
Within this room she is, whose eyes, after her confession, I caused to be put out, but kept alive to confirm what from Giovanni’s own mouth you have heard. Now, my lord, what I have done you may judge of, and let your own wisdom be a judge in your own reason.
CARDINAL
Peace! First, this woman,3 chief in these effects:
130 My sentence is that forthwith she be ta’en
Out of the city, for example’s sake,
There to be burnt to ashes.
DONADO
’Tis most just.
CARDINAL
Be it your charge, Donado: see it done.
DONADO
I shall.
VASQUEZ
What for me? If death, ’tis welcome. I have been honest to the son, as I was to the father.
CARDINAL
Fellow, for thee, since what thou didst was done
Not for thyself, being no Italian,
We banish thee forever, to depart
140 Within three days. In this we do dispense1
VASQUEZ
’Tis well. This conquest is mine, and I rejoice that a Spaniard outwent an Italian in revenge. Exit VASQUEZ.
CARDINAL
Take up these slaughtered bodies, see them buried;
And all the gold and jewels, or whatsoever,
Confiscate by the canons of the Church,
We seize upon to the Pope’s proper4 use.
RICHARDETTO [removing his disguise]
Your Grace’s pardon. Thus long I lived disguised
To see the effect of pride and lust at once
150 Brought both to shameful ends.
CARDINAL
What, Richardetto, whom we thought for dead?
DONADO
Sir, was it you –
RICHARDETTO
Your friend.
CARDINAL
We shall have time
To talk at large5 of all; but never yet
Incest and murder have so strangely met.
Of one so young, so rich in Nature’s store,5
Who could not say, ‘ ’Tis pity she’s a whore’?6
Exeunt [with the bodies].
FINIS.
The general commendation deserved by the actors, in their presentment1 of this tragedy, may easily excuse such few faults as are escaped in the printing. A common charity may allow him the ability of spelling, whom a secure confidence assures that he cannot ignorantly err in the application of sense.2