Gio. True, Annabella! 'tis no time to jest ;
I have too long suppress'd my hidden flames,
That almost have consum'd me: I have spent
Many a silent night in sighs and groans,
Ran over all my thoughts, despis'd my fate,
Reason'd against the reasons of my love,
Done all that smooth-cheek'd virtue could advise,
But found all bootless: 'tis my destiny
That you must either love, or I must die.
Anna. Comes this in sadness from you?
Gio. Let some mischief

Befall me soon, if I dissemble aught.
Anna. You are my brother, Giovanni.
Gio. You

My sister, Annabella, I know this:

And could afford you instance why to love
So much the more for this.-

He gives some sophistical Reasons, and resumes.
Must I now live or die?

Anna. Live: thou hast won

10

19

The field, and never fought. What thou hast urg'd, My captive heart had long ago resolv'd.

I blush to tell thee (but I tell thee now)

For every sigh that thou hast spent for me,
I have sigh'd ten; for every tear, shed twenty:
And not so much for that I lov'd, as that

I durst not say I lov'd, nor scarcely think it.
Gio. Let not this music be a dream, ye gods,
For pity's sake I beg ye.

Anna. On my knees,

[She kneels.

Brother, even by our mother's dust, I charge you, 30 Do not betray me to your mirth or hate;

Love me, or kill me, brother.

Gio. On my knees,

[He kneels.

Sister, even by my mother's dust, I charge you,

Do not betray me to your mirth or hate;

Love me, or kill me, sister.

Anna. You mean good sooth, then?

Gio. In good troth I do ;

And so do you, I hope: say, I'm in earnest.
Anna. I'll swear it; and I.

Gio.

And I.

I would not change this minute for Elysium.

40

ANNABELLA proves pregnant by her Brother. SORANO, her Husband, to whom she is newly married, discovers that she is pregnant, but cannot make her confess by whom. At length by means of VASQUES, his servant, he comes to the truth of it. He feigns forgiveness and reconcilement with his Wife: and makes a sumptuous Feast to which are invited ANNABELLA's old Father, with GIOVANNI, and all the chief Citizens in Parma; meaning to entrap GIOVANNI by that bait to his death.— ANNABELLA suspects his drift.

GIOVANNI. ANNABELLA.

Gio. What, chang'd so soon?

-does the fit come on you to prove treacherous To your past vows and oaths?

Anna. Why should you jest

At my calamity, without all sense

Of the approaching dangers you are in?

Gio. What danger's half so great as thy revolt? Thou art a faithless sister, else thou know'st,

Malice or any treachery beside,

Would stoop to my bent brows: why, I hold fate 10
Clasp'd in my fist, and could command the course
Of time's eternal motion, had'st thou been
One thought more steady than an ebbing sea.

Anna. Brother, dear brother, know what I have been;

And know that now there's but a dining time
'Twixt us and our confusion: let's not waste
These precious hours in vain and useless speech.
Alas, these gay attires were not put on
But to some end; this sudden solemn feast
Was not ordain'd to riot and expense;
I that have now been chamber'd here alone,
Barr'd of my guardian, or of any else,
Am not for nothing at an instant freed
To fresh access. Be not deceiv'd, my brother;
This banquet is a harbinger of death

To you and me; resolve yourself it is,
And be prepar'd to welcome it.

Gio. Well then,

The schoolmen teach that all this globe of earth
Shall be consumed to ashes in a minute.

Anna. So I have read too.

20

30

Gio. 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.

Anna. That's most certain.. -But,

Good brother, for the present, how do you mean
To free yourself from danger? some way think
How to escape.
I'm sure the guests are come.
Gio. Look up, look here; what see you in my
face?

Anna. Distraction and a troubled conscience. 10
Gio. Death and a swift repining wrath—yet
look,

What see you in mine eyes?

Anna. Methinks you weep.

Gio. I do indeed; these are the funeral tears Shed on your grave: these furrow'd up my cheeks, When first I lov'd 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, 20 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,

To shew a matchless beauty to the world,
Which in an instant, ere it scarce was seen,
The jealous destinies requir'd 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!

Anna. Then I see your drift.

Ye blessed angels, guard me!

30

Gio. Give me your hand. How sweetly life doth

run

In these well-color'd veins! how constantly

This pulse doth promise health! But I could chide With nature for this cunning flattery!

Forgive me.

Anna. With my heart.

Gio. Farewell.

40

Anna. Will you be gone ?

Gio. Be dark, bright sun,

And make this mid-day night, that thy gilt rays May not behold a deed, will turn their splendour More sooty than the poets feign their Styx. [Stabs her. Anna. What means this?

Gio. To save thy fame.

Thus die, and die by me, and by my hand;
Revenge is mine, honour doth love command.

Anna. Forgive him, heaven, and me my sins!
Farewell.

Brother, unkind, unkind

10

[Dies.

[Sir Thomas Browne in the last Chapter of his Enquiries into Vulgar and Common Errors, rebukes such Authors as have chosen to relate prodigious and nameless Sins. The Chapter is entitled, of some Relations whose Truth we fear. His reasoning is solemn and fine." Lastly, as there are many Relations whereto we cannot assent, and make some doubt thereof, so there are divers others whose verities we fear, and heartily wish there were no truth therein. Many other accounts like these we meet sometimes in History, scandalous unto Christianity, and even unto humanity; whose not only verities but relations honest minds do deprecate. For of sins heteroclital, and such as want either name or precedent, there is oft-times a sin even in their histories. We desire no records of such enormities; sins should be accounted new, that so they may be esteemed monstrous. They omit of monstrosity, as they fall from their rarity; for men count it venial to err with their forefathers, and foolishly conceive they divide a sin in its society. The pens of men may sufficiently expatiate without these singularities of villainy: for, as they increase the hatred of vice in some, so do they enlarge the theory of wickedness in all. And this is one thing that may make latter ages worse than were the former: for the vicious example of ages past, poison the curiosity of these present, affording a hint of sin unto seduceable spirits, and soliciting those unto the imitation of them, whose heads were never so perversely principled as to invent them. In things of this nature silence commendeth History; 'tis the veniable part of things lost, wherein there must never rise a Pancirollus * remain any register but that of Hell."]

nor

*Who wrote De Antiquis Deperditis, or of the Lost Inventions of Antiquity.

CXXIII.

LOVE'S SACRIFICE: A TRAGEDY.

BY THE SAME.

BIANCHA, Wife to CARAFFA, Duke of Pavia, loves and is loved by FERNANDO, the Duke's favourite. She long resists his importunate suit; at length, she enters the room where he is sleeping, and awakens him, to hear her confession of her love for him.

BIANCHA. FERDINAND, sleeping.

Bian. Resolve, and do; 'tis done. What, are those eyes,

Which lately were so over-drown'd in tears,
So easy to take rest? O happy man,

How sweetly sleep hath seal'd up sorrows here!
But I will call him: what, my Lord, my Lord,
My Lord Fernando !

Fer. Who calls?
Bian. My Lord :
Sleeping, or waking?

Fer. Ha, who is 't?
Bian. "Tis I:

Have you forgot my voice? or is your ear

But useful to your eye?

Fer. Madam the Duchess!

Bian. She, 'tis she; sit up:

Sit up and wonder, whiles my sorrows swell:

The nights are short, and I have much to say.
Fer. Is 't possible 'tis you?

Bian. 'Tis possible:

Why do you think I come?

Fer. Why? to crown joys,

And make me master of my best desires.

Bian. 'Tis true, you guess aright; sit up and

listen.

With shame and passion now I must confess,
Since first mine eyes beheld you, in my heart
You have been only king. If there can be
A violence in love, then I have felt
That tyranny; be record to my soul,
The justice which I for this folly fear.