Scen. III.
Enter Iago, and Lorenzo disguised.
Iag. You haue not seene the Court then?
Lor. Not as yet.
But I desire to obserue the Fashions there.
How doe you stile your King of Sicilie?
Iag. Men call him, Sir, The iust King Atticus;
And truly too: for with an equall Scale
He waighes the offences betwixt man and man,
He is not sooth’d with adulation,
Nor mou’d with teares, to wrest the course of Iustice
Into an vniust current, to oppresse the Innocent,
Nor do’s he make the Lawes
Punish the man, but in the man the cause.
Shall I in briefe giue you his Character?
Lor. A thing I couet much.
Iag. Attend mee then.
His state is full of maiestie and grace,
Whose basis is true Pietie and Vertue,
Where, vnderneath a rich triumphant Arch,
That does resemble the Tribunall Seat,
Garded with Angels, borne vpon two Columnes,
Iuftice and Clemencie, he sits inthron’d,
His subiects serue him freely, not perforce,
And doe obey him more for loue, then feare;
Being a King not of themselues alone,
And their estates, but their affections:
A soueraigntie that farre more safetie brings,
Then do’s an Armie to the guard of Kings.
Lor. You haue describ’d, Sir, such a worthy Prince,
That well I cannot say, who is most happie;
Either the King for hauing so good subiects,
Or else the subiects for so good a King.
But pray proceed.
Iag. The Heauens to crowne his ioy,
With Immortalitie in his happie Issue
Sent him two Royall sonnes, of whom the eldest
Was the sweet Prince Lusyppus. Was! oh me,
That euer I should liue to say, he was:
He was, but is not now, for he is dead.
The yongest was Lorenzo, for his yeeres,
The pride and glory of Sicilians,
And miracle of Nature, whose aspect,
Euen like a Comet, did attract all eyes
With admiration, wonder and amazement,
And he good Prince, is lost, or worse, I feare:
But for his Daughter faire Leonida,
Her Fame not able to be circumscrib’d
Within the bounds of Sicilie, hath gone
Beyond the Pirean Mountaines, and brought backe
The chiefe Italian Princes, but their Loues
Were quitted with contempt and crueltie:
And many of our braue Sicilian Youths
Haue sacrific’d their liues to her disdaine.
Now to preuent the like euent hereafter,
’Twas thought fit her libertie should be awhile restraind,
For which intent, his Highnesse hath elected
The Lord Nicanor for her Guardian,
Who, ’tis thought, shall after his decease,
Espouse the Princesse, and be heire of Sicill.
Lor. You told me of a Prince, you said was lost,
Which you pronounc’d so feelingly, as if
It had beene your losse in particular.
Iag. Oh, it was mine, and euery good mans else,
That is oblig’d to vertue and desert.
Lor. See how Report is subiect to abuse.
I knew the Prince Lorenzo.
Iag. Did you, Sir?
Lor. But neuer knew in him any one sparke
Of worth or merit, that might thus inflame
The zeale of your affection.
Iag. Traytor, thou lyest.
Which I will proue eu’n to thy heart, thou ly’st,
I tell thee, thou hast committed such a sinne
Against his deare Report, that thy base life
Is farre too poore to expiate that wrong.
Sir, will you draw?
Lor. Forbeare, incensed man. I doe applaud
Thy noble courage, and I tell you, Sir,
The Prince Lorenzo was a man I lou’d
As dearely as my selfe: but pray resolue me;
Does he liue or not?
Iag. He liues,
In our eternall memorie he liues: but otherwise,
It’s the generall feare of Sicily,
That he is dead, or in Captiuitie.
For when Don Iohn, the Spanish Generall,
Went with an Armie ’gainst the cruell Turkes,
In that still memorable Battell of Lepanto,
Our braue Lorenzo, too too vent’rous,
There lost his life, or worse, his libertie.
Lor. Hath not Time with his rude hand
Defac’d the Impression of his Effigies
In your memories yet?
Iag. No, nor will euer be, so long
As worth shall be admir’d, and vertue loued.
Lor. You know him, if you see him.
Iag. My Lord Lorenzo!
Lor. Rise, my worthy Friend,
I haue made proofe of thy vnfayned loue.
Iag. Th’exceeding happinesse to see you well,
Is more then ioy can vtter: On my knees
I beg your pardon for th’vnciuill speech
My ignorant tongue committed.
Lor. No, thus I’le be reueng’d. |Imbraces him.|
I know thou louest mee, and I must inioyne
Thy loue vnto an act of secresie,
Which you must not denie.
Iag. Sir, I obey.
Lor. Then thus it is, I must coniure your faith,
And priuacie in my arriuall yet,
For I intend a while in some disguise
To obserue the times and humors of the Court.
Iag. How meanes your Grace? can you indure to see
The Court eclipst with clouds of discontent,
Your father mourne your absence, and all hearts
Ore-whelm’d with sorrow, and you present, Sir?
Lor. Iago, I’me resolu’d:
Therefore what shape or humor I assume,
Take you no notice that I am the Prince.
Iag. Sir, I consent,
And vow to your concealement.
Lor. It is enough, my brother’s dead, thou saist:
I haue some teares to spend vpon his Tombe,
We are the next vnto the Diadem,
That’s the occasion I obscure my selfe.
Happie’s that Prince, that ere he rules, shall know,
VVhere the chiefe errors of his State doe grow.
|Exeunt.|