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Bos. Oh, by no means. Physicians that apply Ant. It groan'd, methought, and gave horse-leeches to any rank swelling use to cut off A very deadly accent. their tails, that the blood may run through them Echo. Deadly accent. the faster. Let me have no train when I go to Del. I told you 'twas a pretty one. shed blood, lest it make me have a greater when make it I ride to the gallows.
A huntsman, or a falconer, a musician,
Echo. A thing of sorrow.
Ant. 'Tis very like my wife's voice.
Echo. Ay, wife's voice. Bos. Where's Castruccio, her husband ?
Del. Come, let us walk further from't. Card. He's rode to Naples, to take possession I would not have you go to the cardinal's to-night. Of Antonio's citadel.
Do not. Bos. Believe me, you have done a very happy Echo. Do not. turn.
Del. Wisdom doth not more moderate wasting Card. Fail not to come. There is the masterkey
Than time: take time for't; be mindful of thy
Echo. Be mindful of thy safety.
Of your own life, you'll find it impossible
Echo. Oh, fly your fate !
And give you good counsel.
Echo. Thou art a dead thing.
Ant. My duchess is asleep now, Only a dead wall between. Well, good Antonio, And her little ones, I hope sweetly. O Heaven, I'll seek thee out; and all my care shall be Shall I never see her more ? To put theo into safety from the reach
Echo. Never see her more. Of these most cruel biters that have got
Ant. I mark'd not one repetition of the echo Some of thy blood already. It may be,
But that; and on the sudden a clear light
For to live thus is not indeed to live; Haunts me. There, there !--'Tis nothing but my | It is a mockery and abuse of life. melancholy.
I will not henceforth save myself by halves; O Penitence, let me truly taste thy cup,
Lose all, or nothing:
[Exit. I'll fetch your eldest son, and second you.
It may be that the sight of his own blood,
Spread in so sweet a figure, may beget
The more compassion. However, fare you well. Enter ANTONIO and DELIO.
Though in our miseries Fortune have a part,
Yet in our noble sufferings she hath none : Del. Yond's the cardinal's window. This for- Contempt of pain, that we may call our own. tification
ACT V.-SCENE IV.
EnterCARDINAL, PESCARA, MALATESTI, RODERIGO, So plain in the distinction of our words,
and GRISOLAN, That many have suppos'd it is a spirit That answers,
Card. You shall not watch to-night by the Ant. I do love these ancient ruins.
sick prince; We never tread upon them but we set
His grace is very well recover'd. Our foot upon some reverend history.
Mal. Good my lord, suffer us. And questionless, here, in this open court,
Card. Oh, by no means; Which now lies naked to the injuries
The noise, and change of object in his eye, Of stormy weather, some men lie interr'd Doth more distract him. I pray, all to bed; Lov'd the church so well, and gave so largely to't, | And though you hear him in his violent fit, They thought it should have canopied their Do not rise, I entreat you. bones
Pes. So, sir; we shall not. Till doomsday; but all things have their end : Card. Nay, I must have you promise Churches and cities, which have diseases like to Upon your honours, for I was enjoin'd to't men,
By himself; and he seem'd to urge it sensibly. Must have like death that we have.
Pes. Let our honours bind this trifle. Echo. Like death that we have.
Card. Nor any of your followers. Del. Now the echo hath caught you.
Card. It may be, to make trial of your promise, Shall make thy heart break quickly! thy fair When he's asleep, myself will rise and feign
duchess Some of his mad tricks, and cry out for help, And two stweet childrenAnd feign myself in danger.
Ant. Their very names Mal. If your throat were cutting,
Kindle a little life in me. I'd not come at you, now I have protested Bos. Are murderd. against it.
Ant. Some men have wish'd to die Card. Why, I thank you.
At the hearing of sad tidings; I am glad Gris. 'Twas a foul storm to-night.
That I shall do't in sadness: 'I would not now Rod. The Lord Ferdinand's chamber shook Wish my wounds balm'd nor healu, for I have
like an osier. Mal. 'Twas nothing but pure kindness in the To put my life to. In all our quest of greatness, devil,
Like wanton boys whose pastime is their care, To rock his own child.
We follow after bubbles blown in the air. (Exeunt all except the CARDINAL. Pleasure of life, what is't? only the good hours Card. The reason why I would not suffer these Of an ague ; merely a preparative to rest About my brother, is, because at midnight To endure vexation. I do not ask I may with better privacy convey
The process of my death; only commend mo Julia's body to her own lodging. Oh, my con
To Delio. science !
Bos. Break, heart! I would pray now; but the devil takes away Ant. And let my son fly the courts of princess my heart
[ Dics. For having any confidence in prayer.
Bos. Thou scom'st to have lovd Antonio? About this hour I appointed Bosola
Serv. I brought him hither, To fetch the body. When he bath serv'd my To have reconcil'd him to the cardinal. turn,
Bos. I do not ask thee that. He dies.
[Exit. Take him up, if thou tender a thine own life,
And bear him where the lady Julia
Was wont to lodge.-Oh, my fate moves swift! Bos. Ha! 'twas the cardinal's voice; I heard I have this cardival in the forge already: him namo
Now I'll bring him to the hammer. O dirbul Bosola and my death. Listen ; I hear one's misprision! footing.
I will not imitate things glorious,
No more than base; I'll be mine own example.
On, on, and look thou represent, fur sileno Ferd. Strangling is a very quiet death.
The thing tlou bear'st.
[Escurt. Bos. (aside.] Nay, then, I see I must stand
upon my guard. Ferd. What say to that? whisper softly; do
ACT V.-SCENE V. you agree to't? So; it must be done i'the dark:
Enter CARDINAL with a Book. the cardinal would not for a thousand pounds the doctor should see it.
(Exit. Card. I am puzzled in a question about hell: Bos. My death is plotted; here's the conse
Ho says, in hell there's one material fire, quence of murder.
And yet it shall not burn all men alike. We value not desert nor Christian breath, Lay him by. How tedious is a guilty conscience! When we know black deeds must be curd with
When I look into the fish-ponds in my garden death.
Methinks I see a thing arm d with a rake,
That seems to strike at me.
Enter Bosola, and Servant bearing Antonio's
body. I'll fetch you a dark lantern.
[Exit. Ant. Could I take him at his prayers,
Now, art thou como? There were hope of pardon.
Thou look'st ghastly : Bos. Fall right, my sword ! (Slabs him. There sits in thy face some great determination I'll not give thee so much leisure as to pray.
Mix'd with some fear. Ant. Oh, I am gone! Thou hast ended a long Bos. Thus it lightens into action: suit
I am come to kill thee. In a minute.
Card. Ha!-Help! our guard!' Bos. What art thou ?
Bos. Thou art deceiv'd ; Ant. A most wretched thing,
They are out of thy howling. That only have thy benefit in death,
Card. Hold; and I will faithfully divide To appear myself.
Revenues with thee.
Bos. Thy prayers and proffers
Are both unseasonable.
Card. Raise the watch! we are betraya!
Bos. I have confin'd your flight:
I'll suffer your retreat to Julia's chamber,
But no further.
Card. Help! we are betray'd !
and GRISOLAX. banded Which way please them.-0 good Antonio,
Mal. Listen. I'll whisper one thing in thy dying ear
3 above-.e, on the upper stage, the raised plation 1 Under the belief that he is the cardinal.
towards the back of the stage.-Dichi.
Card. My dukedom for rescue!
I do account this world but a dog-kennel : Rod. Fie upon his counterfeiting!
I will vault credit and affect high pleasures Mal. Why, 'tis not the cardinal.
Beyond death. Rod. Yes, yes, 'tis he ;
Bos. He seems to come to himself, But I'll see him hang'd ere I'll go down to him. Now he's so near the bottom. Card. Here's a plot upon me; I am assaulted! Ferd. My sister, O my sister! there's the cause I am lost,
on't. Unless some rescue!
Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, Gris. He doth this pretty well;
Like diamonds, we are cut with our own dust. But it will not serve to laugh me out of mine
Card. Thou hast thy payment too. Card. The stord's at my throat!
Bos. Yes, I hold my weary soul in my teeth; Rod. You would not bawl so loud then.
'Tis ready to part from me. I do glory Mal. Come, come, let's go
That thou, which stood'st like a huge pyramid To bed : he told us thus much aforehand.
Begun upon a large and ample base, Pes. He wish'd you should not come at him; Shalt end in a little point, a kind of nothing.
but, believe't, The accent of the voice sounds not in jest:
Enter PESCARA, MALATESTI, RODERIGO, and
Pes. How now, my lord ! Rod. Let's follow him aloof,
Mal. Oh sad disaster! And note how the cardinal will laugh at him. Rod. How comes this? [Exeunt abore, MALATESTI, RODERIGO, By the Arragonian brethren ; for Antonio
Bos. Revenge for the Duchess of Malli murder'd and GRISOLAN.
Slain by this hand; for lustful Julia Bos. There's for you first,
Poison'd by this man; and lastly for myself, 'Cause you shall not un barricade the door
That was an actor in the main of all To let in rescue.
[Kills the Servant. Much 'gainst mine own good nature, yet i’ the end Card. What cause hast thou to pursue my lifo? Neglected. Bos. Look there.
Pes. How now, my lord ! Card, Antonio !
Card. Look to my brother: Bos. Slain by my hand unwittingly.
Ho gave us these large wounds, as we were Pray, and be sudden; when thou kill'dst thy
Here i'the rushes. And now, I pray, let me Thou took'st from Justice her most equal balance, Be laid by and never thought of. [Dies. And left her naught but her sword.
Pes. How fatally, it seems, he did withstand Card. O mercy!
His own rescue! Bos. Now it seems thy greatness was only out Mal. Thou wretched thing of blood, ward;
How came Antonio by his death ? For thou fall'st faster of thyself than calamity Bos. In a mist; I know not how: Can drive thee. I'll not waste longer time; Such a mistake as I have often seen there!
In a play. Oh, I am gone! Card. Thou hast hurt me.
We are only like dead walls or vaulted graves, Bos. Again!
That, ruin'd, yield no echo. Fare you well. Card. Shall I die like a leveret,
It may be pain, but no harm, to me to die Without any resistance ?-Help, help, help! In so good a quarrel. Oh, this gloomy world ! I am slain!
In what a shadow, or deep pit of darkness,
Doth womanish and fearful mankind live!
Let worthy minds ne'er stagger in distrust Ferd. The alarum! give me a fresh horse ; To suffer death or shame for what is just : Rally the vauntguard, or the day is lost.
Mine is another voyage
[Dies. Yield, yield! I give you the honour of arms, Pes. The noble Delio, as I came to the palace, Shake iny sword over you; will you yield ? Told me of Antonio's being here, and show'd me Card. Help me; I am your brother!
A pretty gentleman, his son and heir.
Enter Delio, and Antonio's Son. [lle wounds the CARDINAL, and, in the scuffle,
Mal. Oh, sir, you come too late!
Del. I heard so, and gives Bosoma his death-wound.
Was arm'd for't ere I came. Let us make noble There flies your ransom. Card. O justice!
Of this great ruin ; and join all our force I suffer now for what hath former been:
To establish this young hopeful gentleman Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.
In's mother's right. These wretched eminent Ferd. Now you're brave fellows. Cæsar's for
things tune was harder than Pompey's; Cæsar died in Leave no more fame behind 'em, than should ono the arms of prosperity, Pompey at the feet of Fall in a frost, and leave his print in snow; disgrace. You both died in the field. The pain's As soon as the sun shines, it ever melts, nothing: pain many times is taken away with Both form and matter. I have ever thought the apprehension of greater, as the toothache Nature doth nothing so great for great men with the sight of a barber that comes to pull As when she's pleas'd to make them lords of truth: it out: there's philosophy for you.
Integrity of life is fame's best friend, Bos. Now my revenge is perfect.-Sink, thou Which nobly, beyond death, shall crown the end. main cause [Kills FERDINAND.
Exeunt. Of my undoing !-The last part of my life Hath done me best service. Ferd. Give me some wet hay; I am broken
I the rushes-i.e, on the rushes that then covered the winded.
floor in lieu of a carpet.-W. HAZLITT.
(If we may trust Oldys, this dramatist was sprung from a Shropshire family, but the date of his birth is unknown. According to Anthony-à-Wood, Marston was a student in Corpus Christi College, Oxford, and was admitted Bachelor of Arts February 23d, 1592. Mr. Halliwell, editor of Marston's works, thinks this a mistake, and conjectures that the dramatist was another John Marston, mentioned by Wood, who was 'son of a father of both names, of the city of Coventry, Esquire,' who “became either a commoner or a gentlemancommoner of Brasen-nose College in 1591, and in the beginning of February 1593 he was admitted Bachelor of Arts, as the eldest son of an esquire, and soon after completing that degree by determination, he went his way, and improved his learning in other faculties,' — alluding probably, says Mr. Halliwell, to his poetical and dramatic efforts. It is supposed that it was Marston's father who was appointed Lecturer of the Middle Temple in 1592 ; and according to Oldys, the dramatist married Mary, daughter of the Rev. William Wilkes, chaplain to James I., and rector of St. Martin's, Wiltshire. In Ben Jonson's conversations with Drummond, it is stated that “Marston wrote his father-in-law's preachings, and his father-in-law his comedies,' which Gifford thinks is a humorous allusion to the sombre air of Marston's comedies, as contrasted with the cheerful tone of his father-in-law's discourses. Marston died in June 1634, and was buried near his father in the Temple Church in London, under the stone which hath written on it, Oblivioni Sacrum.' For these meagre statements concerning the life of Marston we are indebted to the painstaking researches of Mr. J. 0. Halliwell, who has edited an excellent edition of the dramatist's works. Marston appears to have been at one time an intimate friend and ardent admirer of Ben Jonson, but having satirized Ben in two of his plays, a quarrel took place, Jonson replying with vigour in his Poetaster. We learn from Drummond that Jonson ‘had many quarrels with Marston, beat him, and took his pistol from him, wrote his Poetaster on him; the beginning of them were, that Marston represented him in the stage, in his youth given to venerie.' 'Were more known of the literary history of the period,' says Mr. Halliwell, “it would perhaps be found that as there was probably more than one quarrel between these dramatists, so also was there more than one reconciliation.'
Marston, along with Jonson and Chapman, had a hand in Eastward Hoe. His principal dramas are The Scourge of Villany (printed 1598); Antonio and Mellida (1602), the second part of which, Antonio's Revenge, was published the same year ; The Malcontent (1604); The Dutch Courtezan (1605); Parasitaster (1606); Sophonisba (1606); What You Will (1607); The Insatiate Countess (1613). Besides these, he wrote a number of poems, chiefly of a satirical cast, nearly all of which, as well as many of his dramas, are characterized by coarseness and impurity of language. Indeed his nature appears to have been essentially coarse and bitter; and in illustration of this Mr. Collier quotes from a contemporary diary the following anecdote :-'Jo. Marston, the last Christmas, when he danced with Alderman More's wife's daughter, a Spaniard born, fell into a strange commendation of her wit and beauty. When he had done, she thought to pay him home, and told him she thought he was a poet. “'Tis true," said he, "for poets feign and lie ; and so did I when I commended your beauty, for you are exceeding foul.”'
Marston has undoubtedly vigour and originality, and one writer ranks him with Fletcher, Ford, and Massinger; he can be at times pathetic and quaintly humorous; but
his works are characterized by great inequality. Hazlitt calls him a writer of great merit, who rose to tragedy from the ground of comedy, and whose forte was not sympathy either with the stronger or softer emotions, but an impatient scorn and bitter indignation against the vices and follies of men, which vented itself either in comic verse or lofty invective. He was properly a satirist.' We have selected Antonio and Mellida, both on account of its intrinsic merits, and as being on the whole the most appropriate of Marston's dramas for a work like the present. It is printed as it stands in the original edition, except that the spelling is modernized.)
ANTONIO AND. MELLIDA:
ACTED BY THE CHILDREN OF PAUL'S.
BY JOHN MARSTON.
Dramatis persone. PIERO SFORZA, Duke of Venice.
CASTILIO BALTHAZAR. ANDRUGIO, Duke of Genoa.
Catzo, his Servant.
Lucio, Companion or Servant to Andrugio.
MELLIDA, Piero's Daughter.
FLAVIA, Maid to Rossaline.
Enter GALEATZO, PIERO, ALBERTO, ANTONIO,
! And stalks as proud upon the weakest stilts FOROBOSCO, BalURDO, MATZAGENTE, and
Of the slight'st fortunes, as if Hercules
Or burly Atlas shouldered up their state. FELICE, with parts in their hands, having
Pie. Good; but whom act you? cloaks cast over their apparel.
Alb. The necessity of the play forceth me to Gal. Come, sirs, come! the music will sound act two parts: Andrugio, the distressed Duke of straight for entrance. Are ye ready, are ye Genoa, and Alberto, a Venetian gentleman, enaperfect ?
moured on the Lady Rossaline; whose fortunes Pie. Faith! we can say our parts; but we are being too weak to sustain the port of her, he ignorant in what mould we must cast our actors. prov'd always disastrous in love; his worth Alb. Whom do you personate?
being underpoised' by the uneven scale, that Pie. Piero, Duke of Venice.
currents? all things by the outward stamp of Alb. Oh hó! then thus you frame your exterior opinion. shape,
Gal. Well, and what dost thou play? To haughty form of elate majesty;
Bal. The part of all the world. As if you held the palsy shaking head
Alb. The part of all the world? What's that? Of reeling chance, under your fortune's belt Bal. The fool. Ay, in good deed law now, I In strictest vassalage: grow big in thought, play Balurdo, a wealthy mountebanking burgoAs swoln with glory of successful arms.
masco's 3 heir of Venice. Pie. If that be all, fear not, I'll suit it right. Who cannot be proud, stroke up the hair, and
strut? Alb. Truth; such rank custom is grown
2 currents--makes pass current, values. popular;
3 burgomasco's equivalent, we suppose, to burgoAnd now the vulgar fashion strides as wide, master's.