Than choirs of syrens' sense-bereaving notes;
Chrisea loves you, infinitely above
Expressive terms, the orators should strive
To paint her masculine fancy; and I'm bound
To pay
this homage to her best content,
As to conjure you, by all sacred ties
Of honour, amity, and what else may serve
T'enforce th' endearment, with your noblest love
To gratify her fancy.
Vit. No persuasion
Can make me think this serious. Good, my lord,
Do you not love Chrisea?
Dor. More than a babe does the kind nurse that feeds it with
More than I do my quiet, or the joys
Of aught but blest eternity. Vitelli,
No other argument can more convince
Suspicion, should it doubt my love, but this-
That, to procure her peace, I have confin'd
The greatness of my passion, and give up
To thy dispose a jewel, which the earth
And sea, should both unlade their hidden wealth,
Should not have purchas'd from me.
Vit. These are arts to pulse my conceits, my lord.
I'm no such puny in the craft of love,
That I want brain to find this drift, which is
As obvious to me as your eyes; now you
Are home return'd victorious, big with praise,
Laden with titles that sit heavier on you
Than your steel corslet, in hot fight, contemn
Affinity with me, to whom you've heard
The fair Eurione has resign'd her heart;
And by this circumvention, should I court
At your entreaties, her sister might pretend
A righteous cause for an unjust revolt;
For were it otherwise, your temper could not
Brook your
Chrisea's change without a start
Dor. This language I understand not: by my honour, friend, This iteration may disperse your doubt;
I do again conjure you, by all right
Friendship can challenge in you, to affect
Chrisea nobly!-Shall I have your answer?
Vit. Nay, then, my lord;
Since you are serious, freely I resume
The privilege of my liberty; this body,
I do confess your captive, and 't has suffer'd
An honourable thraldom, but my mind
Remains unbounded as the air or fire
Are from their spheres: Eurione has won
By the subduing valour of her looks,
That in a field of fancy, not of blood:
And ere another shall usurp her right,
In the defence I'll die her willing martyr.
Dor. I judg'd what serious value,
Your boasted friendship would retain i'the test.
Draw your bright weapon; know that I do hate
Baseness as much as cowardice, and since
You slight a lady for whose priceless love
Kings might resign their crowns and humbly fall
Like bare-foot pilgrims, prostrate at the shrine
Of such a beauty: sure, if in this sword
Death has a residence, your life shall find it,
And not survive to boast the cruel triumph of her refusal.
Vit. Sir, your sword cannot excite a trembling in my
The glist'ning splendour cheers my sight
Like polish'd crystal: henceforth name of friend
Be no more known betwixt us than a dream.
Thus I expire it :-I may now regain
My honour forfeited in the general cause,
By this particular combat.
Dor. Should my fate yield the conquest, yet his death would
Beget Chrisea's quiet, but augment
Her grief, and hate against me:-[aside.] stay, forbear!—
I feel a palsy in my veins, and cannot
Manage this little instrument of death.
My sinews put on infancy again,
And have no vigor in them.
I am so full of passion, I have scarce
Room left to vent a sigh: a mine of lead
Hangs on my heart, and with its weight has crack'd
The feeble courage.
Vit. Noble soul! his grief
Works more compunction in me than his sword
Did sudden anger. [aside.] Could I grant what you
Request, no brand-mark'd slave should fulfil
Sooner his master's most severe command
Than I would yours; but this abrogates all laws
Of friendship's duty. If you've vow'd this act,
You may as safely disannul the oath
As should you in some desp'rate fury swear
To be your father's murderer.
Dor. Bid me first renounce
My allegiance to my honour, sell the faith
I owe my native country; my Vitelli,
I feel a humour in my brain which strives
For passage at mine eyes: wilt see me weep?
Consider, friend, deuying my request,
Thou do'st undo a lady who may claim
The privilege of all hearts;-depriv'st the world
Of such a gem, that should old nature strive
To frame her second, it would quite exhaust
Her glorious treasury;— then in her ruin
My life and honour's forfeited: think this;
And were thy heart obdurate as a rock
Of adamant, this thought, join'd with my tears,
Would, sooner than the blood of goats, dissolve it
To gentle softness.
Vit. Your eyes are moving advocates; they speak
Such an o'er-flowing language, that my love,
Then in its own cause a most partial judge,
Allows my mercy freedom to pronounce
Sentence on your side: you have prevail'd;
I'll serve Chrisea as her pleasure shall
Dispose my will, and fortune.
Dor. I begin to feel my spirits quicken, and my blood
Receive its noble temper; dear Vitelli!
Thy nobleness do'st prompt thee to an act
Shall write thy friendship higher in the lists
Of sacred amity, than mothers' loves.
Go to my blest Chrisea; she expects
To know by thee the truth of my success;
Tell her, I am more happy in her bliss
Than if I had enjoy'd her constant love.
So leave me, friend: I may, perhaps, transgress
Manhood again; and, should'st thou see me weep
Twice, thou would'st judge my former flood of tears
A feigned passion.
Vit. Your genius guard you! Thus I apply
Balm to his wounds, while I do bleeding die."
The trial is a noble scene. The author rises above his usual tone, into a strain of great dignity and energy. There are, in the following extracts, passages which almost approach the
sublime, particularly the one beginning" Methinks, I'm like some aged mountain."
Doria is arraigned before Trivulci and the Senate.
You, for whose head the gratitude of the state
Decreed triumphant bays, should be enforc'd
To stand here a delinquent; but the law
Must, as a straight and uncorrupted stream,
Enjoy its usual freedom. My lords,
We are not met here to arraign a prisoner
Whose guilt does speak his sentence, but a person,
Not only most unblemish'd in his fame,
But one to whom our country owes its life;
Who, with his dearest blood, has balm'd the wounds
Which mischief's giant-off-spring, razing war,
Cut in the bosom of the common-wealth.
Sen. We all confess his worth.
Tri. Yet this brave youth
This patron of our liberty; all his honours,
His blood and titles, his effective bays,
That would have guarded his victorious front
From blasts of lightning, laid aside, is come
To tender satisfaction to the laws
He has offended; and since judgment is
Th' immediate act of justice, it must pass,
To save impartial censure on his life,
As on the wretch'dst malefactor's; for
His former merits cannot take away
His present fault; for whoe'er is guilty
Undoes the privilege of his desert and blood.
For if great men, offending, pass unpunish'd,
The common people, who do use to sin
By their example, fearless will run on
Into licentious wickedness.
Sen. Your grace delivers
The intention of the state; no oracle
Could have explain'd the meaning of our laws
With more integrity.
Tri. Yet, my good lords,
I speak not this, that my particular vengeance,
Because he slew my kinsman, has the least
Aim at his life, which I would strive to cherish,
As my own health, or as the city's peace;
For magistrates ought to behold their crimes,
Not the committers, as the poets feign,
Of wise Tiresias, to want eyes and only
Have seeing understanding; for a judge
Is guilty of the fault he does not punish.
And if reward and triumphs do adorn
Deserts, 'tis just that shame aud punishments
Should wait on vices; and, how much more worthy
The person is, that acts them, so far sharper
Should be the penalty inflicted on him.
Sen. And when the law
Uses its utmost rigour, 'tis the crime
And not the man it sentences.
We must decline his merit and forget
Our gratitude and since his hand is dipt
In civil blood, his life must expiate what
His arm unfortunately committed.
The services which I have done the state
Were but my natural duty; I atchieved 'em
To gain me fame and glory, and you safety; and
Should esteem them traitors to honour, if their intercession
Be a protection for my crimes: I mean not
To plead to save a dis-respected life,
'Cause I fear death: a sea-incompass'd rock
Is not less timorous of th' assaulting waves,
Than I of the grim monster; but there is
A fame surviving which I would be loath
Should tell posterity I tamely yielded
My head to the axe, and died, because my spirit
Durst not desire to live: to quit this scandal,
I hope, what I can urge in my defence
Shall have indifferent hearing.
Tri. Speak freely.
Dor. Know then, my intention
Is not by excuse to extenuate my fact,
Which I confess most horrid, and would pay
A thousand showers of sorrow could this hand
Re-edify that goodly frame of flesh
Which it demolish'd; but my priceless fame,
In whose dear cause, I slew him, will to justice
Boldly proclaim, I did no more than what,
The truth I owe my reputation tells me,
Was right in point of honour.
Does disallow it, as unjust, and that
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