ANTONIO'S REVENGE. THE SECOND PART OF THE HISTORY OF ANTONIO AND MELLIDA. BY JOHN MARSTON. The Prologue.25 The rawish dank of clumsy winter ramps O now methinks a sullen tragic scene (As from his birth being hugged in the arms From common sense of what men were, and are ; 26 This Prologue for its passionate earnestness, and for the tragie note of preparation which it sounds, might have preceded one of those old tales of Thebes, or Pelops' line, which Milton has so highly commended, as free from the common error of the poets in his days," of intermixing comic stuff with tragic sadness and gravity, brought in without discretion corruptly to gratify the people."It is as solemn a preparative as the "warning voice which he who saw th' Apocalyps, heard cry"-. 27 peels. 28 "Sleek favorites of Fortune." Preface to Poems by S. T. Coleridge. Nail'd to the earth with grief; if any heart, Antonio, Son to Andrugio Duke of Genoa, whom Piero the Venetian Prince and father-in-law to Antonio has cruelly murdered, kills Piero's little son Julio, as a sacrifice to the ghost of Audrugio.-The scene, a church-yard: the time, midnight. JULIO. ANTONIO, Jul. Brother Antonio, are you here i' faith? Why do you frown? Indeed my sister said, That I should call you brother, that she did, When you were married to her. Buss me: good truth, I love you better than my father, 'deed. Ant. Thy father? gracious, O bounteous heaven, I do adore thy justice. Venit in nostras manus Tandem vindicta, venit et tota quidem. Jul. Truth, since my mother died, I loved you best. Something hath anger'd you: pray you, look merrily. Ant. I will laugh, and dimple my thin cheek With capering joy; chuck, my heart doth leap To grasp thy bosom. Time, place, and blood, How fit you close together! heaven's tones Strike not such music to immortal souls, As your accordance sweets my breast withal. Methinks I pace upon the front of Jove, And kick corruption with a scornful heel, Griping this flesh, disdain mortality. O that I knew which joint, which side, which limb Were Were father all and had no mother in it; That I might rip it vein by vein, and carve revenge Come hither, boy; this is Andrugio's hearse. Jul. O God, you'll hurt me. For my sister's sake, Pray you don't hurt me. And you kill I'll tell my father. me, 'deed Ant. O for thy sister's sake I flag revenge. Andrugic's Ghost cries "Revenge." Ant. Stay, stay, dear father, fright mine eyes no more. Revenge as swift as lightning bursteth forth And clears his heart. Come, pretty tender child, It is not thee I hate, or thee I kill. Thy father's blood that flows within thy veins, Is it I lothe; is that, Revenge must suck. I love thy soul: and were thy heart lapt up In any flesh but in Piero's blood, I would thus kiss it: but, being his, thus, thus, Whilst thy wounds bleed, my brows shall gush out tears. Now croaks the toad, and night-crows screech aloud Now gape the graves, and through their yawns let loose And now, swart Night, to swell thy hour out, From under the earth a groan. Howl not, thou putry mould; groan not, ye graves; This reast, this heart, Piero all: *. * * * * * * * * * * * Day breaking. * see, the dapple grey coursers of the morn Beat up the light with their bright silver hoofs And chase it through the sky. One who died, slandered. Look on those lips, Those now lawn pillows, on whose tender softness From out so fair an Inn: look, look, they seem To stir, And breathe defiance to black obloquy. Wherein fools are happy, Even in that, note a fool's beatitude: He bears an unturn'd sail with every wind: I never saw a fool lean: the chub-faced fop Shines sleek with full cram'd fat of happiness: Whilst studious contemplation sucks the juice From wisard's 30 cheeks, who making curious search 29" To lie immortal in the arms of Fire." Browne's Religio Medici. Of the punishments in hell. 30 Wise men's. Maria (the Duchess of Genoa) describes the death of Mellida, her daughter in law. Being laid upon her bed she grasp❜d my hand, Therefore I'll leave thee: farewell, mart of woe; With that, her head sunk down upon her breast ; Dared kiss her hand, wisht her soft rest, lov'd Bride; 31 Antonio, who is thought dead, but still lives in that disguise. |