'TIS PITY SHE'S A WHORE, A TRAGEDY: BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

GIOVANNI, a young gentleman of Parma, entertains an illicit love for his sister. He asks counsel of BONAVENTURA, a Friar.1

FRIAR. GIOVANNI.

Friar. Dispute no more in this, for know, young man,

These are no school-points; nice philosophy
May tolerate unlikely arguments,

But Heaven admits no jests. Wits that presum'd
On wit too much, by striving how to prove
There was no God, with foolish grounds of art,
Discover'd first the nearest way to hell,
And fill'd the world with devilish atheism.
Such questions, youth, are fond: far better 'tis
To bless the sun, than reason why it shines;
Yet he thou talk'st of is above the sun.

No more; I may not hear it.

Gio. Gentle father,

To you have I unclasp'd my burthen'd soul,
Emptied the storehouse of my thoughts and heart,
Made myself poor of secrets; have not left
Another word untold, which hath not spoke
All what I ever durst, or think, or know;
And yet is here the comfort I shall have?
Must I not do what all men else may, love?
Friar. Yes, you may love, fair son.
Gio. Must I not praise

That beauty which, if framed anew, the gods
Would make a god of, if they had it there,

1 The good friar in this play is evidently a copy of Friar Lawrence in Romeo and Juliet. He is the same kind physician to the souls of his young charges; but he has more desperate patients to deal with.

And kneel to it, as I do kneel to them?
Friar. Why, foolish madman!
Gio. Shall a peevish sound,

A customary form, from man to man,
Of brother and of sister, be a bar

'Twixt my perpetual happiness and me?
Friar. Have done, unhappy youth, for thou art lost.
Gio. No, father; in your eyes I see the change
Of pity and compassion; from your age,

As from a sacred oracle, distils

The life of counsel. Tell me, holy man, What cure shall give me ease in these extremes? Friar. Repentance, son, and sorrow for this sin : For thou hast mov'd a majesty above

With thy unrangèd (almost) blasphemy.
Gio. O, do not speak of that, dear confessor.
Friar. Art thou, my son, that miracle of wit,
Who once, within these three months, wert
esteem'd

A wonder of thine age throughout Bononia?
How did the university applaud

Thy government, behaviour, learning, speech,
Sweetness, and all that could make up a man!
I was proud of my tutelage, and chose
Rather to leave my books than part with thee.
I did so; but the fruits of all my hopes
Are lost in thee, as thou art in thyself.

O Giovanni! hast thou left the schools

Of knowledge, to converse with lust and death? For death waits on thy lust.-Look through the

world,

And thou shalt see a thousand faces shine

More glorious than this idol thou ador'st.

Leave her, and take thy choice, 'tis much less sin; Though in such games as those they lose that win. Gio. It were more ease to stop the ocean

From floats and ebbs, than to dissuade

my vows.

Friar. Then I have done, and in thy wilful flames
Already see thy ruin; Heaven is just.
Yet hear my counsel!
Gio. As a voice of life.

Friar. Hie to thy father's house, there lock thee fast
Alone within thy chamber, then fall down

On both thy knees, and grovel on the ground;
Cry to thy heart, wash every word thou utter'st
In tears, and-if 't be possible-of blood:
Beg Heaven to cleanse the leprosy of lust
That rots thy soul; acknowledge what thou art,
A wretch, a worm, a nothing; weep, sigh, pray
Three times a day, and three times every night;
For seven days' space do this; then, if thou find'st
No change in thy desires, return to me;

I'll think on remedy. Pray for thyself
At home, whilst I pray for thee here; away-
My blessing with thee we have need to pray.
GIOVANNI discloses his passion to his sister ANNABELLA.-They compare
their unhappy loves.

Anna. Do you mock me or flatter me?

[He has been praising her beauty.

Gio. If you would see a beauty more exact
Than art can counterfeit, or nature frame,
Look in your glass and there behold your own.
Anna. O, you are a trim youth.

Gio. Here.

Anna. What to do?

[Offers his dagger to her.

Gio. And here's my breast. Strike home,
Rip up my bosom; there thou shalt behold
A heart, in which is writ the truth I speak.
Why stand you ?

Anna. Are you earnest ?
Gio. Yes, most earnest.

You cannot love.

Anna. Whom?

Gio. Me. My tortur'd soul

Hath felt affliction in the heat of death.
O, Annabella, I am quite undone.
The love of thee, my sister, and the view
Of thy immortal beauty, have untun'd
All harmony both of my rest and life.
Why do you not strike?

Anna. Forbid it, my just fears!

If this be true, 'twere fitter I were dead. Gio. True, Annabella! 'tis no time to jest ;

I have too long suppress'd my hidden flames, That almost have consumed me: I have spent Many a silent night in sighs and groans, Ran over all my thoughts, despis'd my fate, Reason'd against the reasons of my love, Done all that smooth-cheek'd virtue could advise, But found all bootless: 'tis my destiny That you must either love, or I must die. Anna. Comes this in sadness from you? Gio. Let some mischief

Befall me soon, if I dissemble aught.
Anna. You are my brother, Giovanni.
Gio. You

My sister, Annabella, I know this,
And could afford you instance why to love
So much the more for this.-

He gives some sophistical reasons, and resumes.

Must I now live or die?

Anna. Live: thou hast won

The field, and never fought. What thou hast urg'd,

My captive heart had long ago resolv❜d.

I blush to tell thee-but I tell thee now—
For every sigh that thou hast spent for me,
I have sigh'd ten; for every tear shed twenty :
And not so much for that I lov'd, as that
I durst not say I lov'd, nor scarcely think it.

Gio. Let not this music be a dream, ye gods,

For pity's sake, I beg ye.

Anna. On my knees,

[She kneels. Brother, even by our mother's dust, I charge you, Do not betray me to your mirth or hate;

Love me, or kill me, brother.

Gio. On my knees,

[He kneels.

Sister, even by my mother's dust, I charge you,

Do not betray me to your mirth or hate;
Love me, or kill me, sister.

Anna. You mean good sooth, then?

Gio. In good troth I do ;

And so do you, I hope: say, I'm in earnest. Anna. I'll swear it, and I.

Gio. And I.

I would not change this minute for Elysium.

ANNABELLA proves pregnant by her brother. SORANO, her husband, to whom she is newly married, discovers that she is pregnant, but cannot make her confess by whom. At length by means of VASQUES, his servant, he comes to the truth of it. He feigns forgiveness and reconcilement with his wife: and makes a sumptuous feast to which are invited ANNABELLA's old father, with GIOVANNI, and all the chief Citizens in Parma; meaning to entrap GIOVANNI by that bait to his death.-ANNABELLA suspects his drift.

GIOVANNI. ANNABELLA.

Gio. What, chang'd so soon?

Το

-does the fit come on you, to prove treacherous

your past vows and oaths?

Anna. Why should you jest

At my calamity, without all sense

Of the approaching dangers you are in?

Gio. What danger 's half so great as thy revolt?
Thou art a faithless sister, else thou know'st,

Malice, or any treachery beside,

Would stoop to my bent brows: why, I hold fate Clasp'd in my fist, and could command the course Of time's eternal motion, hadst thou been