Volume Iv Part 59 (2/2)

For I'll not be seen till my Part is to be play'd.

What Arms have they?

_Piet._ Pistols, Sir, would you have other?

_Cur._ No, I have not yet consider'd how to kill him, Nor scarce resolv'd to do so any way.

What makes this strange Irresolution in me?

--Sure 'tis the force of sacred Amity, Which but too strictly was observ'd by me.

--My Prince, and Friend, my Wife, and Sister too; Shall not those last, the powerful first out-do?

My Honour, and my Love, are there ingag'd, And here, by ties of Duty, I'm oblig'd: I satisfy but these, if he must bleed; But ruin the whole Dukedom in the Deed, The hopeful Heir of all their n.o.ble Spoils, And Joy and Recompence of all their Toils.

--Why, so was _Cloris_, _Laura_ too, to me, Which both were ravish'd from me, Prince, by thee. [Knocks within.

_Piet._ Sir, they be the Bravoes and Curtezans. [_Pietro_ goes out.

_Cur._ 'Tis well, I need not talk with them, They understand their work.

_Piet._ They do, my Lord, and shall be ready at your stamp; They are all _Neapolitans_, you know, Sir.

_Cur._ Are they the better for that?

_Piet._ Much, Sir, a _Venetian_ will turn to your Enemy, If he will give him but a Souse more than you have done; And your _Millanoise_ are fit for nothing but to Rob the Post or Carrier; a _Genovese_ too Will sooner kill by Usury than Sword or Pistol; A _Roman_ fit for nothing but a Spy.

_Cur._ Well, Sir, you are pleasant with my Countrymen.

_Piet._ I'll be so with my own too, Sir; and tell you, That a _Maltan_, who pretends to so much Honour And Gravity, are fit only to rob their Neighbours With pretence of Piety, --And a _Cicilian_ so taken up with Plots, How to kill his Vice-Roy, that it keeps them From being Rogues to a less degree.

But I have done, Sir, and beg your pardon.

_Cur._ Didst leave the Letter, I commanded thee, For _Laura_?

_Piet._ I did, my Lord.

Enter _Lorenzo_.

_Lor._ Well, here's the Prince just coming.

_Cor._ Pray, Sir, conduct him in, I'm ready for him.

[Ex. _Cur._ and _Piet._

Enter the Prince, conducted by two Women in Masquerade, with Lights, he endeavouring to take off their Masks.

[Ex. two Women.

[He walks about while this Song is singing.

_What is the recompence of War, But soft and wanton Peace?

What the best Balsam to our Scars, But that which _Venus_ gave to _Mars_, When he was circled in a kind Embrace?_

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