Gent. The Duke my Lord commands your speedy presence
For answering agrievances lately urg'd
Against you by your Mother?
Cesar. By my Mother.
Gent. The Court is near on sitting.
Cesar. I wait on it Sir.— [Exeunt.
Enter Duke, Magistrate, Secretary, Baptista, Attendants, Mentivole: (they sit) Mentivole stands by.
Duke. What waste of blood, what tumults, what divisions,
What outrages, what uprores in a State,
Factions, though issuing from mean springs at first,
Have (not restrain'd) flowed to, the sad example
At Rome, between the Ursins and Columni's:
Nay, here at home, in Florence, 'twixt the Neers
And the Bianchi, can too mainly witness.
I sit not at the Helm (my Lords) of Sovereignty
Deputed Pilot for the Common-wealth,
To sleep while others steere (as their wild fancies
Shall counsel) by the compass of disorders.
Baptista, This short Preface is directed
Chiefly to you, the petty brawls and quarrels
Late urg'd betwixt th' Alberti and your family;
Must, yes, and shall, like tender unknit joynts,
Fasten again together of themselves:
Or like an angry Chyrurgion, we will use
The roughness of our justice, to cut off
The stubborn rancour of the limbes offending.
Bap. Most gracious Florence.
Duke. Our command was signified,
That neither of the followers of each party
Should appear here with weapons.
Bap. 'Tis obey'd Sir, on my side.
Duke. We must leave the general cause
Of State employments, to give ear to brawls
Of some particular grudges, pollitick government
For tutor'd Princes, but no more henceforth.