_Enter_ Pandulf, _the Bodies of_
Virolet, _and_ Juliana _upon a Hearse._
_Sess._ What solemn funeral's this?
_Pand._ There rest a while,
And if't be possible there can be added
Wings to your swift desire of just revenge,
Hear, (if my tears will give way to my words)
In brief a most sad story.
_Sess._ Speak, what are they?
I know thee well _Pandulfe_.
_Pand._ My best Lord?
As far as sorrow will give leave, most welcome;
This _Virolet_ was, and but a Son of mine,
I might say, the most hopeful of our Gentry;
And though unfortunate, never ignoble:
But I'll speak him no farther. Look on this,
This face, that in a savage would move pitty,
The wonder of her Sex, and having said
'Tis _Juliana_, Eloquence will want words
To set out her deservings; this blest Lady
That did indure the Rack, to save her Husband,
That Husband, who, in being forc'd to leave her,
Indur'd a thousand tortures; by what practise,
I know not, (but 'twas sure a cunning one)
Are made, the last I hope, but sad examples
Of _Ferrands_ tyranny. Convey the bodies hence.
_Sess._ Express your sorrow
In your revenge, not teares, my worthy Soldiers:
That fertile earth that teem'd so many children,
To feed his cruelty, in her wounded wombe,
Can hardly now receive 'em.
_Boats._ We are cold,
Cold walls shall not keep him from us.
_Gun._ Were he cover'd with mountains, and room only for a
Bullet to be sent level at him, I would speed him.
_M[r]._ Let's scale this petty Tower; at Sea we are Falcons,
And fly unto the main top in a moment.
What then can stop us here?
_1 Cit._ We'll tear him piece-meal.
_2 Cit._ Or eat a passage to him.
_Ses._ Let discretion
Direct your anger; that's a victory,
Which is got with least loss, let us make ours such:
And therefore friends, while we hold parley here,
Raise your scalado on the other side,
But enter'd wreak your suffrings.
[_Exit Saylors and Soldiers._
_1 Cit._ In our wrongs:
There was no mean.
_2 Cit._ Nor in our full revenge
Will we know any.
_Sess._ Be appeas'd good man,
No sorrow can redeem them from deaths Prison;
What his inevitable hand hath seiz'd on,
The world cannot recover. All the comfort
That I can give to you, is to see vengeance
Pour'd dreadfully upon the Authors head,
Of which their ashes may be sensible,
That have fain by him. [_Sound a parley._
_Enter_ Ferrand, Martia, Ascanio, _and_ Ronvere, _above._
_Pand._ They appear.
_Fer._ 'Tis not that we esteem rebellious Traytors
Worthy an answer to their proudest Summons
That we vouchsafe our presence; or to exchange
One syllable with 'em: but to let such know,
Though circled round with treason, all points bent
As to their Center at my heart, 'tis free,
Free from fear, villains, and in this weak Tower
_Ferrand_ commands as absolute, as when
He trod upon your necks, and as much s[c]orns you.
And when the Sun of Majesty shall break through
The clouds of your rebellion, every beam
Instead of comfortable heat shall send
Consuming plagues among you; and you call
That government which you term'd tyrannous
Hereafter, gentle.
_Sess._ Flatter not thy self
With these deluding hopes, thou cruel beast,
Thou art i'th' toyle, and the glad Huntsman prouder,
By whom thou art taken, of his prey, than if
(Like thee) he should command, and spoil his Forrest.
_Fer._ What art thou?
_Sess._ To thy horror Duke of _Sesse_.
_Fer._ The Divel.
_Sess._ Reserv'd for thy damnation.
_Fer._ Why shakes my love?
_Mart._ O I am lost for ever;
Mountains divide me from him; some kind hand
Prevent our fearful meeting: Or lead me
To the steep rock, whose rugged brows are bent
Upon the swelling main; there let me hide me:
And as our bodies then shall be divided,
May our souls never meet.
_Fer._ Whence grows this, Sweetest?
_Mar._ There are a thousand furies in his looks;
And in his deadly silence more loud horror,
Than when in hell the tortur'd and tormentors
Contend whose shreeks are greater. Wretched me!
It is my father.
_Sess._ Yes, and I will own her, Sir,
Till my revenge. It is my daughter, _Ferrand_;
My daughter thou hast whor'd.
_Fer._ I triumph in it:
To know she's thine, affords me more true pleasure,
Than the act gave me, when even at the height,
I crack'd her Virgin zone. Her shame dwell on thee,
And all thy family; may they never know
A female issue, but a whore; _Ascanio_.
_Ronvere_, look cheerfull; be thou a man too,
And learn of me to dye. That we might fall,
And in our ruines swallow up this Kingdom,
Nay the whole world, and make a second _Chaos_.
And if from thence a new beginning rise,
Be it recorded this did end with us;
And from our dust hath embryon.
_Ron._ I liv'd with you,
And will dye with you; your example makes me
Equally bold.
_Asc._ And I resolv'd to bear
What ere my fate appoints me.
_Sess._ They are ours,
Now to the spoyl.
_Boats._ Pitty the Lady; to all else be deaf. [_Exeunt._
_Within_, Kill, kill, kill. [_Alarum Flo. Trumpets. Retreat._
_Enter_ Sesse _with_ Ferrands _head, the Citizens, Master,_
_Boteswaine, Gunner, Souldiers bringing in_ Ascanio, _and_
Martia.
_Sess._ Cruel beginnings meet with cruel ends;
And the best sacrifice to Heaven for peace,
Is tyrants blood: and those that stuck fast to him,
Flesh'd instruments in his commands to mischief,
With him dispatch'd.
_Boats._ They are cut off.
_Sess._ 'Tis well.
_All._ Thanks to the Duke of _Sesse_.
_Sess._ Pay that to Heaven,
And for a general joy, give general thanks:
For blessings nere descend from Heaven, but when
A grateful Sacrifice ascends from men.
To your devotion, leave me, there's a Scene,
Which I would act alone; yet you may stay,
For wanting just spectators, 'twill be nothing.
The rest forbear me.
_Cit._ Liberty, liberty, liberty.
_Mar._ I would I were as far beneath the Centre,
As now I stand above it; how I tremble!
Thrice happy they that dyed; I dying live
To stand the whirlwind of a fathers fury.
Now it moves toward me.
_Sess._ Thou, I want a name,
By which to stile thee: All articulate sounds
That do express the mischief of vile woman,
That are, or have been, or shall be, are weak
To speak thee to the height. Witch, Parricide,
For thou, in taking leave of modesty,
Hast kild thy father, and his honor lost;
He's but a walking shadow to torment thee.
To leave, and rob thy father; then set free
His foes, whose slavery he did prefer
Above all treasure, was a strong defeazance
To cut off, even the surest bonds of mercy.
After all this, having given up thy self,
Like to a sensual beast, a slave to lust,
To play the whore, and then (high Heaven it racks me)
To find out none to quench thy appetite,
But the most cruel King, whom next to Hell,
Thy father hated; and whose black imbraces
Thou shouldst have fled from, as the whips of furies;
What canst thou look for?
_Enter Pandulph, and bodies born on the Herse._
_Mart._ Death; and 'tis not in you
To hurt me farther: my old resolution,
Take now the place of fear; in this I liv'd,
In this I'll dye, your daughter.
_Pand._ Look but here;
You had I know, a guilty hand in this;
Repent it Lady.
_Mart. Juliana_ dead?
And _Virolet_?
_Pand._ By her unwilling hand.
_Mart._ Fates you are equal. What can now fall on me,
That I will shrink at? now unmov'd I dare
Look on your anger, and not bend a knee
To ask your pardon; let your rage run higher
Than billows rais'd up by a violent Tempest,
And be, as that is, deaf to all intreaties:
They are dead, and I prepar'd; for in their fall
All my desires are summ'd up.
_Sess._ Impudent too?
Die in it wretch.
_Boats._ Stay Sir. [_Boats. kills her._
_Sess._ How dar'st thou villain,
Snatch from my sword the honor of my justice?
_Boats._ I never did you better service Sir,
Yet have been ever faithful. I confess
That she deserv'd to dye; but by whose hand?
Not by a fathers. Double all her guilt,
It could not make you innocent, had you done it.
In me 'tis murder, in you 'twere a crime
Heaven could not pardon. Witness that I love you,
And in that love I did it.
_Sess._ Thou art Noble,
I thank thee for't; the thought of her dye with her.
_Asc._ My turn is next: since she could find no mercy,
What am I to expect?
_Cit._ With one voyce, Sir,
The Citizens salute you with the stile
Of King of _Naples_.
_Sess._ I must be excus'd,
The burden is too heavy for my shoulder,
Bestow it where 'tis due. Stand forth _Ascanio_,
It does belong to you; live long and wear it,
And warn'd by the example of your Unkle,
Learn that you are to govern men, not beasts:
And that it is a most improvident head,
That strives to hurt the limbs that do support it.
Give burial to the dead; for me, and mine,
We will again to Sea, and never know,
The place, which in my birth first gave me woe. [_Exeunt._
[_Flor. of Trumpets._