Act 5 — Scene V.

Men. Madam, with gentle ear receive my suit; A kingdom’s safety should o’er-peise[2788] slight rites; Marriage is merely nature’s policy: Then, since unless our royal beds be join’d, Danger and civil tumults fright the state,5 Be wise as you are fair, give way to fate. Maria. What wouldst thou, thou affliction to our house? Thou ever-devil, ’t was thou that banished’st My truly noble lord! Men. I!10 Maria. Ay, by thy plots, by thy black stratagems. Twelve moons have suffer’d change since I beheld The loved presence of my dearest lord. O thou far worse than Death! he parts but soul From a weak body; but thou soul from soul15 Dissever’st, that which God’s own hand did knit; Thou scant of honour, full of devilish wit! Men. We’ll check your too-intemperate lavishness: I can and will. Maria. What canst?20 Men. Go to; in banishment thy husband dies. Maria. He ever is at home that’s ever wise. Men. You ’st ne’er meet more: reason should love control. Maria. Not meet!24 She that dear loves, her love ’s still in her soul. Men. You are but a woman, lady, you must yield. Maria. O, save me, thou innated bashfulness, Thou only ornament of woman’s modesty! Men. Modesty! death, I’ll torment thee.29 Maria. Do, urge all torments, all afflictions try; I’ll die my lord’s as long as I can die. Men. Thou obstinate, thou shall die.—Captain, that lady’s life Is forfeited to justice: we have examin’d her, And we do find she hath empoisoned34 The reverend hermit; therefore we command Severest custody.—Nay, if you’ll do ’s no good, You ’st do ’s no harm: a tyrant’s peace is blood. Maria. O, thou art merciful; O gracious devil, Rather by much let me condemned be39 For seeming murder than be damn’d for thee! I’ll mourn no more; come, girt my brows with flowers: Revel and dance, soul, now thy wish thou hast; Die like a bride, poor heart, thou shalt die chaste.

Aur. “Life is a frost of cold felicity,[2789] And death the thaw of all our vanity:”[2790]45 Was’t not an honest priest that wrote so? Men. Who let her in? Bil. Forbear! Pre. Forbear! Aur. Alas, calamity is everywhere:50 Sad misery, despite your double doors, Will enter even in court. Bil. Peace! Aur. I ha’ done. Bil.[2791] One word,—take heed!55 Aur. I ha’ done.

Mer. Cyllenian Mercury, the god of ghosts, From gloomy shades that spread the lower coasts,[2792] Calls four high-famed Genoan dukes to come, And make this presence their Elysium,60 To pass away this high triumphal night With song and dances, court’s more soft delight.

Men. Celso, Celso, court Maria for our love.— Lady, be gracious, yet grace.71 Maria. With me, sir? Malevole takes Maria to dance. Mal. Yes, more loved than my breath; With you I’ll dance. Maria. Why, then, you dance with death. But, come, sir, I was ne’er more apt for mirth. Death gives eternity a glorious breath:75 O, to die honour’d, who would fear to die? Mal. They die in fear who live in villainy. Men. Yes, believe him, lady, and be rul’d by him. Pietro. Madam, with me. Pietro takes Aurelia to dance. Aur. Wouldst, then, be miserable?80 Pietro. I need not wish. Aur. O, yet forbear my hand! away! fly! fly! O, seek not her that only seeks to die! Pietro. Poor loved soul! Aur. What, wouldst court misery?85 Pietro. Yes. Aur. She’ll come too soon:—O my grieved heart! Pietro. Lady, ha’ done, ha’ done: Come, let us dance: be once from sorrow free. Aur. Art a sad man?90 Pietro. Yes, sweet. Aur. Then we’ll agree.

Mal. (to Maria.) Keep your face constant, let no sudden passion Speak in your eyes. Maria. O my Altofront! Pietro. (to Aurelia.) A tyrant’s jealousies Are very nimble: you receive it all?121 Aur. My heart, though not my knees, doth humbly fall Low as the earth, to thee. [Mal.][2795] Peace! next change; no words. Maria. Speech to such, ay, O, what will affords!125

Men. Malevole! They environ Mendoza, bending their pistols on him. Mal. No. Men. Altofront! Duke Pietro! Ferneze! ha! All. Duke Altofront! Duke Altofront! Cornets, a flourish.—They seize upon Mendoza. Men. Are we surpris’d? What strange delusions mock130 Our senses? Do I dream? or have I dreamt This two days’ space? Where am I? Mal. Where an arch-villain is. Men. O, lend me breath till I am fit to die! For peace with heaven, for your own souls’ sake, Vouchsafe me life!136 Pietro. Ignoble villain! whom neither heaven nor hell, Goodness of God or man, could once make good! Mal. Base, treacherous wretch! what grace canst thou expect, That hast grown impudent in gracelessness?140 Men. O, life! Mal. Slave, take thy life. Wert thou defenced, th(o)rough blood and wounds, The sternest horror of a civil fight,144 Would I achieve thee; but prostrate at my feet, I scorn to hurt thee: ’t is the heart of slaves That deigns to triumph over peasants’ graves; For such thou art, since birth doth ne’er enroll A man ’mong monarchs, but a glorious soul. [[2796] O, I have seen strange accidents of state!150 The flatterer, like the ivy, clip the oak, And waste it to the heart; lust so confirm’d, That the black act of sin itself not sham’d To be term’d courtship. O, they that are as great as be their sins,155 Let them remember that th’ inconstant people Love many princes merely for their faces And outward shows; and they do covet more To have a sight of these than of their virtues. Yet thus much let the great ones still conceive,[2797] When they observe not heaven’s impos’d conditions,161 They are no kings, but forfeit their commissions.

Mal. You o’er-joy’d spirits, wipe your long-wet eyes. To Pietro and Aurelia. Hence with this man (kicks out Mendoza): an eagle takes not flies.176 You to your vows (to Pietro and Aurelia): and thou into the suburbs.[2798] To Maquerelle. You to my worst friend I would hardly give; Thou art a perfect old knave (to Bilioso): all-pleas’d live You two unto my breast (to Celso and the Captain): thou to my heart. (To Maria.) The rest of idle actors idly part:181 And as for me, I here assume my right. To which I hope all’s pleas’d: to all, goodnight.

To wrest each hurtless thought to private sense Is the foul use of ill-bred impudence: Immodest censure now grows wild, All over-running. Let innocence be ne’er so chaste,5 Yet to the last She is defil’d With too nice-brained cunning. O you of fairer soul, Control10 With an Herculean arm This harm; And once teach all old freedom of a pen, Which still must write of fools, whiles ’t writes of men!

Your modest silence, full of heedy stillness, Makes me thus speak: a voluntary illness Is merely[2799] senseless; but unwilling error, Such as proceeds from too rash youthful fervour, May well be call’d a fault, but not a sin:5 Rivers take names from founts where they begin. Then let not too severe an eye peruse The slighter brakes[2800] of our reformed Muse, Who could herself herself of faults detect, But that she knows ’t is easy to correct,10 Though some men’s labour: troth, to err is fit, As long as wisdom’s not profess’d, but wit. Then till another’s[2801] happier Muse appears, Till his Thalia feast your learned ears, To whose desertful lamps pleased Fates impart Art above nature, judgment above art,16 Receive this piece, which hope nor fear yet daunteth: He that knows most knows most how much he wanteth.