[SCENE VI.]

Enter Falleria and Sostrata weeping.

Fall. Passe ore these rugged furrowes of laments And come to plainer pathes of cheerefulnesse; Cease thy continuall showers of thy woe. And let my pleasing wordes of comfort chase These[35] duskie cloudes of thy uniust dispaire Farre from thy hart, and let a pleasing hope Of young Pertillos happy safe returne Establish all your ill-devining thoughts; So shall you make me cheerfull that am sad,— And feede your hopes with fond illusions.

Sos. I could be so; but my divided soule, Twixt feare and hope of young Pertillos life, Cannot arrive at the desired port Of firme beleefe, until mine eyes do see Him that I sent to know the certainetie.

Fal. To know the certaintie! of whom, of what? Whome, whether, when, or whereabout, I praie, Have you dispatcht a frustrate messenger?— By heaven, and earth, my heart misgiveth[36] me, They will prevent my cunning pollicie. [To the people. Why speake you not? what winged Pegasus Is posted for your satisfaction?

Sos. Me thinkes my speach reveales a hidden feare, And that feare telles me that the childe is dead.

Fall. By sweete S. Andrew and my fathers soule, I thinke the peevish boy be too too well But speake, who was your passions harbinger?

Sos. One that did kindle my misdoubting thoughts, With the large flame of his timiddity.

Fall. Oh then I know the tinder of your feare. Was young Allenso your white[37] honnie sonne. Confusion light upon his timerous head, For broching this large streame of fearefulnesse! And all the plagues that damned furies feele For their forepassed bold iniquities, Afflict you both for thus preventing me!

Sos. Preventing you! of what? Fallerio, speake, For if you doe not my poore hart will breake.

Fall. Why of the good that I had purposed, To young Pertillo, which I would conceale From you and him until the deed were done.

Sost. If it were good, then we affect him deare, And would add furtherance to your enterprise.

Fall. I say your close eaves-dropping[38] pollicies Have hindred him of greater benefits Then I can ever do him after this.— If he live long, and growe to riper sinne, [To the people. Heele cursse you both, that thus have hindered His freedom from this goale of sinfull flesh.— But let that passe, when went your harebrainde sonne, That Cuckow, vertue-singing, hatefull byrde, To guarde the safetie of his better part, Which he hath pend within the childish coope Of young Pertillos sweete securitie?

Sost. That lovely sonne, that comfort of my life, The root of vertuous magnamitie, That doth affect with an unfained love, That tender boy, which under heavens bright eye, Deserveth most to be affected deare, Went some two houres after the little boy Was sent away to keepe[39] at Padua.

Fall. What, is a lovelie? he's a loathsome toade, A one eyde Cyclops, a stigmaticke[40] brat, That durst attempt to contradict my will, And prie into my close intendements.

Enter Alenso sad.

Mas, here a comes: his downcast sullen looke, Is over-waigh'd with mightie discontent.— I hope the brat is posted to his sire, That he is growne so lazie of his pace; Forgetfull of his dutie, and his tongue Is even fast tyde with strings of heavinesse.— Come hether, boye! sawst thou my obstacle, That little Dromus that crept into my sonne, With friendly hand remoov'd and thrust away? Say, I, and please me with the sweetest note That ever relisht in a mortals mouth.

Allen. I am a Swan that singe, before I dye, Your note of shame and comming miserie.

Fall. Speake softly, sonne, let not thy mother heare; She was almost dead before for very feare.

Allen. Would I could roare as instruments of warre, Wall-battring Cannons, when the Gun powder Is toucht with part of Etnas Element! Would I could bellow like enraged Buls, Whose harts are full of indignation, To be captiv'd by humaine pollicie! Would I could thunder like Almightie Ioue, That sends his farre-heard voice to terrifie The wicked hearts of earthly citizens! Then roaring, bellowing, thundring, I would say, Mother, lament, Pertillos made away!

Sost. What, is he dead? God give me leave to die, And him repentance for his treacherie! [Falleth down and dyeth.

Fall. Never the like impietie was done: A mother slaine, with terror of the sonne! Helpe to repaire the damadge thou hast made, And seeke to call back life with dilligence.

Allen. Call back a happy creature to more woe! That were a sinne: good Father, let her go. 0 happy I, if my tormenting smart, Could rend like her's, my griefe-afflicted heart! Would your hard hart extend unto your wife, To make her live an everdying life? What, is she dead? oh, then thrice happy she, Whose eyes are bard from our callamitie!

Fall. I, all too soone, thou viper, paracide! But for thy tongue thy mother had not dyde: That belching voice, that harsh night-raven sound, Untimely sent thy mother to the ground: Upbraid my fault, I did deceive my brother; Cut out thy tongue, that slue thy carefull mother.

Allen. God love my soule, as I in heart rejoyce To have such power in my death-bringing voice, See how in steade of teares and hartie sighes; Of foulded armes and sorrow-speaking lookes, I doe behold with cheerefull countenance The livelesse roote of my nativitie, And thanke her hasty soule that thence did goe To keep her from her sonne and husbandes woe.— Now, father, give attention to my tale; I will not dip my griefe-deciphering tongue In bitter wordes of reprehension. Your deeds have throwne more mischiefes on your head Then wit or reason can remove againe; For to be briefe, Pertillo, (oh that name Cannot be nam'de without a hearty sigh!) Is murthered, and—

Fal. What and? this newes is good.

Allen. The men which you suborn'd to murther him—

Fal. Better and better, then it cannot out, Unlesse your love will be so scripulous [sic] That it will overthrowe your selfe and me.

Allen. The best is last, and yet you hinder me. The Duke of Padua hunting in the wood, Accompanied with Lordes and Gentlemen—

Fal. Swones what of that? what good can come of that?

Allen. Was made acquainted by the one of them, (That had some little remnant of his life) With all your practice and conspiracie.

Fall. I would that remnant had fled quicke to hell, To fetch fierce fi[e]ndes to rend their carcases, Rather then bring my life in ieopardie! Is this the best? swones, doe you mocke me, sonne, And make a iest at my calamitie?

Allen. Not I, good father; I will ease your woe, If you but yeeld unto my pollicie.

Fal. Declare it then, my wits are now to seeke; That peece of life hath so confounded mee That I am wholly overcome with feare.

Allen. The Duke hath vow'd to prosecute your life, With all the strict severitie he can; But I will crosse his resolution And keepe you from his furie well enough. Ile weare your habit, I will seeme the man That did suborne the bloodie murtherers; I will not stir from out this house of woe, But waight the comming of the officers, And answere for you fore the angrie Duke, And, if neede be, suffer your punishment.

Fall. Ile none of that; I do not like the last; I love thee dearer then I doe my life, And all I did, was to advance thy state To sunne-bright beames of shining happinesse.

Allen. Doubte not my life, for when I doe appeare Before the Duke, I being not the man, He can inflict no punishment on mee.

Fall. Mas, thou saiest true, a cannot punish thee; Thou wert no actor of their Tragaedie. But for my beard thou canst not counterfet And bring gray haires uppon thy downy chinne; White frostes are never seene in summers spring.

Allen. I bought a beard this day at Padua, Such as our common actors use to weare When youth would put on ages countenance; So like in shape, in colour, and in all, To that which growes upon your aged face, That were I dressed in your abilimentes, Your selfe would scarcely know me from your selfe.

Fall. That's excellent. What shape hast thou devis'd, To be my vizard to delude the worlde?

Allen. Why thus: ile presentlie shave off your haire, And dresse you in a lowlie shepheardes weede; Then you will seeme to have the carefull charge Of some wealth-bringing, rich, and fleecy flocke, And so passe currant from suspition.

Fall. This care of thine, my sonne, doth testifie, Nature in thee hath firme predominance, That neither losse of friend, nor vile reproch, Can shake thee with their strongest violence: In this disguise, ile see the end of thee, That thou, acquited, then maist succour me.

Allen. I am assur'd to be exempt from woe:— This plot will worke my certaine overthrowe. [(To the) People.

Fall. I will beare hence thy mother, and my wife, Untimely murthered with true sorrowes knife. [Exit.

Allen. Untimely murthered! happy was that griefe, Which hath abridg'd whole numbers numberlesse Of hart-surcharging deplorations. She shall have due and Christian funerall, And rest in peace amongst her auncestors. As for our bodies, they shall be inter'd, In ravening mawes, of Ravens, Puttockes, Crowes, Of tatlin[g] Magpies, and deathes harbingers, That wilbe glutted with winde-shaken limmes Of blood-delighting hatefull murtherers. And yet these many winged sepulchers, Shall turne to earth, so I and father shall, At last attaine to earth by funerall. Well I will prosecute my pollicy, That wished death may end my miseries.

[Exit.