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Be record all the spirits of the air,

And all things else that are, that day and night, Early and late, the tribute which my heart

Hath paid to Annabella's sacred love,

Hath been these tears, which are her mourners


Never till now did nature do her best,
To shew a matchless beauty to the world,
Which in an instant, ere it scarce was seen,
The jealous destinies required again.
Pray, Annabella, pray! since we must part,
Go thou, white in thy soul, to fill a throne
Of innocence and sanctity in heaven.
Pray, pray, my sister!

Ann. Then I see your drift-
Ye blessed angels, guard me!
Gio. So say I;

Kiss me.
If ever after-times should hear
Of our fast-knit affections, though perhaps
The laws of conscience and of civil use
May justly blame us, yet when they but know
Our loves, that love will wipe away that rigour,
Which would in other incests be abhorr'd.

Give me your hand: how sweetly life doth run
In these well-colour'd veins! how constantly
These palms do promise health! but I could chide
With nature for this cunning flattery--

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Gio. Be dark, bright sun,

And make this mid-day night, that thy gilt rays
May not behold a deed, will turn their splendour
More sooty than the poets feign their Styx!
One other kiss, my sister.

Ann. What means this?

Gio. To save thy fame, and kill thee in a kiss. [Stabs her.

Thus die, and die by me, and by my hand!
Revenge is mine; honour doth love command.
Ann. Oh brother, by your hand!

Gio. When thou art dead

I'll give my reasons for't; for to dispute

With thy (even in thy death) most lovely beauty, Would make me stagger to perform this act Which I most glory in.

Ann. Forgive him, Heaven-and me my sins! farewell,

Brother unkind, unkind,-mercy, great Heaven! oh-oh! [Dies. Gio. She's dead, alas, good soul! The hapless fruit

That in her womb received its life from me,
Hath had from me a cradle and a grave.
I must not dally-this sad marriage-bed
In all her best, bore her alive and dead.
Soranzo, thou hast miss'd thy aim in this!
I have prevented now thy reaching plots,
And kill'd a love, for whose each drop of blood
I would have pawn'd my heart. Fair Annabella,
How over-glorious art thou in thy wounds,

Triumphing over infamy and hate!

Shrink not, courageous hand, stand up, my heart, And boldly act my last, and greater part!

[The scene closes.


A Banquetting Room in the same.'.


Vas. (apart to SOR.) Remember, sir, what you have to do; be wise and resolute.

Sor. Enough-my heart is fix'd.-Pleaseth




To taste these coarse confections: though the use

Of such set entertainments more consists

In custom, than in cause, yet, reverend sir,
I am still made your servant by your presence.
Car. And we your friend.

Sor. But where's my brother Giovanni?

Enter GIOVANNI, with a Heart upon his Dagger. Gio. Here, here, Soranzo! trimm'd in reeking blood,

That triumphs over death! proud in the spoil Of love and vengeance! fate, or all the powers

A banquetting room.] They had dined in another room, and, according to the usual practice, repaired to the apartment in which the confectionery was set out.

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That guide the motions of immortal souls,

Could not prevent me.

Car. What means this?

Flo. Son Giovanni!

Sor. Shall I be forestall'd?


Gio. Be not amaz'd: if your misgiving hearts Shrink at an idle sight, what bloodless fear Of coward passion would have seiz'd your senses, Had you beheld the rape of life and beauty Which I have acted?-my sister, oh my sister! Flo. Ha! what of her?

Gio. The glory of my deed

Darken'd the mid-day sun, made noon as night.
You came to feast, my lords, with dainty fare,
I came to feast too; but I digg'd for food

In a much richer mine, than gold or stone
Of any value balanced; 'tis a heart,

A heart, my lords, in which is mine entomb'd:
Look well upon't; do you know it?

Vas. What strange riddle's this?


Gio. 'Tis Annabella's heart, 'tis; why do you startle?

I vow 'tis her's;-this dagger's point plough'd up Her fruitful womb, and left to me the fame

Of a most glorious executioner.

Flo. Why, madman, art thyself?

Gio. Yes, father; and, that times to come may know,

How, as my fate, I honour'd my revenge,
List, father; to your ears I will yield up

ow much I have deserv'd to be your son.

Flo. What is't thou say'st?

Gio. Nine moons have had their changes, Since I first thoroughly view'd, and truly lov'd, Your daughter and my sister.

Flo. How? Alas, my lords,

He is a frantic madman!

Gio. Father, no.

For nine months space, in secret, I enjoy'd
Sweet Annabella's sheets; nine months I lived
A happy monarch of her heart and her;
Soranzo, thou know'st this; thy paler cheek
Bears the confounding print of thy disgrace;
For her too fruitful womb too soon bewray'd
The happy passage of our stolen delights,
And made her mother to a child unborn.

Çar. Incestuous villain!

Flo. Oh, his rage belies him.

Gio. It does not, 'tis the oracle of truth; I vow it is so.

Sor. I shall burst with fury

Bring the strumpet forth!
Vas. I shall, sir.

Re-enter VASQUES.

Gio. Do, sir; have you all no faith
To credit yet my triumphs? here I swear
By all that you call sacred, by the love

I bore my Annabella whilst she lived,
These hands have from her bosom ripp'd this


Is't true or no, sir?


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