Agen. I want a perspective for this dark mystery;
And but your knowledge doth dissolve my doubts,
'Twould seem a riddle that a gentleman
Of his known valour [and his] reputation
Should strive to lose both for some secret end,
I cannot yet arrive to.
Phy. Sir, you know
Revenge doth master all our passions
That are not servants to her rage.
Agen. But how, unfriended, banish'd, the reproach
Of traitor fix'd upon him, he could find
The way unto't more easy, I am ignorant.
Phy. This story will resolve you. To this Court
He comes: is brought to th' king; then with a modest freedom
Relates his sufferings; hopes that fame hath taught
His story ere his coming, else he should
Continue miserable, as believ'd
Both by his friends and enemies a traitor.
Delivers that he sought protection
From him, because none else could vindicate
His innocence, which many mothers here,
Say'th he, have wept that day when fortune
Consulted fate who should be conqueror.
You brave lords (say'th he) that were present, did my sword
Parley? Did you receive wounds on condition?
Were these by compact? All my blood is lost,
Since 'tis discredited; what before was spent,
Ran in my name, and made that live: but now,
Great King, you only repeal my honour's fall
By giving death unto your enemy.
Our prince resents his fate, confirms him his
By a large pension, and too soon entrusts [him]
With all his secrets; gives him means to view
His forts, which he designs, and learns the strength
Of each particular province; and (inform'd
Of all) makes his escape, and is received
Of the Spartan king with all remonstrances
Of love and confess'd service; but before
He parted, did that horrid act which Lysicles
Must die for.
Agen. Indeed this story
Doth not much concern him, if I mistake not.
Phy. At his arrival here, he left his niece
With this design, that, when his plots were ripe,
Without suspect he might come to the borders.
Hither he comes, and at his entrance is
By a base traitorous servant certified
Of the great love 'twixt her and Lysicles,
The compact of their vows, with divers letters
The lovers had exchang'd. He storms and cries,
If thou dost love young Lysicles, my hate
Shall strike thee dead; thy hand pluck'd back my honour
When it was mounting; be constant, and this hand
Shall by her death give thee a ling'ring one,
And my revenge in thy own house begin.
Then with a barbarous unheard-of cruelty
Murders his niece, and the same instant flies.
Fame had the next sun blown this through the city;
His house was searched, the trunk of the dead lady
Found in the hall; the head he carried with him,
In honour of his cruelty.
Agen. Sure, he was mad!
Phy. I would say so too, but that I would not
Make him less guilty of this inhumanity.
Agen. What furies govern man! We hazard all
Our lives and fortunes to gain hated memories;
And in the search of virtue tremble at shadows.
But how are you ascertain'd that he did
This horrid act?
Phy. He sent the summons of her death
By her that had betray'd her; the report
Did make her spirits throng unto her heart,
And (sure) had kill'd it, had not heaven decreed
His hand should be as black as his intent.
She begg'd some time for prayer, and retir'd;
In her own blood did write her tragedy
And parting wishes to her dear betroth'd.
Now hear the strangest mistook piety,
That ever entered in a virgin's breast,
She so much lov'd this barbarous homicide,
She would not have him guilty of her death;
And therefore with her own hands wounds herself,
And as she bled, she writ unto her lord—
At last concludes—
They will not let me make them innocent;
I'm call'd unto my death, and I repent
My wound, because I would not hurt
That which I hope you lov'd. This bloody note
Was found the next day in her pocket.