1 '• ' ' ' 
 
 • I ' I ' 
 
 ii^ 
 
'^ .^' 
 
 
 
 -.% 
 
 t 
 
 c. 
 
 <■■>•.■. 
 
 r, K ^ . ■ / . > 
 
 ^^^' ^^ 
 
 ^. ^, ...^-.- .^ 
 
 
 0^ : 
 
 .^^ ^^. 
 
 A^- -r-. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
 ^^ 
 
 ^ -^. * 
 
 
 
 :( 
 
 
 

 '^.^^ 
 
 
 > '/>, 
 
 ^C., 
 
 .V c ^' " '' « 
 
 
 
 vV 
 
 
 
 ^'«-- 
 
 Cf- . * N 
 
 
 .tv 
 
 
 xO^^. 
 
 
 
 
 ■^^■ 
 
 ««£^ 
 
 .^^^" '"^. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 vOo. 
 
 <^. * .0 N 
 
 o , f, 
 
 :'? '*. 
 
 
 -^^S 
 
 '\^ 
 
 
 v » « <^ 
 
 <*. '0, v^ .'\ 
 
 •■^ 
 
 ^\ ^ N c ^ ''; 
 
 >0 c 
 
 ,^^ V 
 
 ^.* a^' 
 
 
 
«1 
 
 •^ 
 
 .0' 
 
jHasfterpiecesi of tlje cBngUsi^ ?©rama 
 
 GENERAL EDITOR 
 
 FELIX E. SCHELLING 
 
MASTERPIECES OF THE ENGLISH DRAMA 
 
 Felix E. Schelling, Ph.D., LL.D., General Editor 
 
 CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE: Tamburlaine (both parts). 
 Doctor Faustus. The Jew of Malta. Edward the Second. 
 With an Introduction by William Lyon Phelps, Professor of 
 English Literature, Yale University. 
 
 GEORGE CHAPMAN : All Fools. Eastivard Ho. Bussy 
 DAmbois. The Revenge of Bussy D'Ainbois. With an 
 Introduction by Havelock Ellis, editor of The Mermaid 
 Series of English Dramatists, etc. 
 
 FRANCIS BEAUMONT and JOHN FLETCHER: The 
 Maid's Tragedy. Philaster. The Faithful Shepherdess. 
 Bonduca. Edited by Fehx E. Schelling, Professor of English 
 Literature, University of Pennsylvania. 
 
 BEN JONSON: Every Man in His Humour. Volpone. 
 Epicane. The Alchemist. With an Introduction by Ernest 
 Rhys, editor of Dekker's Plays, etc. 
 
 THOMAS MIDDLETON: Michcelmas Term. A Trick to 
 Catch the Old One. A Fair Quarrel. The Changeling. 
 Edited by Martin W. Sampson, Professor of English Liter- 
 ature, Cornell University. 
 
 PHILIP MASSINGER : The Rotnan Actor. The Maid of 
 Honour. A Neza Way to Pay Old Debts. Believe as You List. 
 Edited by Lucius A. Sherman, Dean of the Graduate School 
 and Head Professor of English, University of Nebraska. 
 
 JOHN WEBSTER and'IGYRIL TOURNEUR: The White 
 Devil. The Duchess of Malfi. Appius and Virginia. — The 
 Revenger'' s Tragedy. With an Introduction by Ashley H. 
 Thorndike, Professor of English, Columbia University. 
 
 WILLIAM CONGREVE: The Double-dealer. The Way of 
 the World. Love for Love. The ALourning Bride. With an 
 Introduction by William Archer, editor of Farquhar's plays, 
 etc. 
 
 OLIVER GOLDSMITH and RICHARD BRINSLEY 
 SHERIDAN: The Good-natured Man. She Stoops to 
 Conquer. — The Rivals. The School for Scandal. The 
 Critic. Edited by Isaac N. Demmon, Professor of English, 
 University of Michigan. 
 
laMnifnsiiiiwnianmiiniamiBifniaiiiiBiin^^^ 
 
 THE FORTUNE THEATRE 
 
 Built isgg-i6oo for Philip Henslowe and Edward Alleyn 
 
 (Drawing based on the description in the original 
 
 builder's contract) 
 
|Jla5ttrpiece$ af the .(JBnglijSih Jrama 
 
 V* ^tv 
 
 WEBSTER AND 
 TOURNEUR 
 
 WITH INTRODUCTION BY 
 
 ASHLEY H. THORNDIKE 
 
 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY 
 
 NEW YORK CINCINNATI • CHICAGO 
 
 AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 
 
V "^1 
 
 ^u 
 
 
 Copyright, 1912, by 
 AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY. 
 
 Entered at Stationers' Hall, London. 
 
 WEBSTER AND TOURNEUR. 
 
 W. P. I 
 
 A* 
 
 ©C1,A312940 
 
 II 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Introduction i 
 
 The Whitp: Devil, or Vittoria Corombona ... 25 
 The Duchess of Malfi 139 
 
 Appius and Virginia 
 The Revenger's Tragedy 
 Notes .... 
 Glossary. 
 
 251 
 335 
 431 
 459 
 
. -^^ 
 
 [■' 
 
JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR i 
 
 The facts that we possess of Webster's dramatic 
 career are meagre, as is the case with most of the EHza- 
 bethan dramatists. We do not know when he was 
 bom, what was his vocation, or what his family. 
 What were his personal experiences, behefs, and opin- 
 ions, are matters of conjecture. In 1602 he makes his 
 first appearance as a collaborator on plays for the 
 theatrical manager Henslowe. The latest record that 
 exists concerning him is a publication of 1624. Dur- 
 ing some of these intervening years he was apparently 
 a hack writer, turning his hand to assist on this play 
 or that as manager or actors desired, associating on 
 terms* of friendship with many of his fellow dramatists, 
 and occasionally venturing on a poem in praise of 
 friend or patron. Some of this work is lost; and in 
 much of what survives his share in collaboration is with 
 difficulty discernible, and rests largely on recent critical 
 analysis. But he produced a few plays wholly his own, 
 and two which neither his contemporaries nor readers 
 
 ^ There is a full bibliography of Webster in the Belles-Lettres edi- 
 tion of two of his plays, edited by Professor M. W. Sampson ; and 
 a good bibliography of critical discussions of Webster and Tourneur 
 in Professor Schelling's Elizabethan Drama (1908).' Professor 
 Vaughan's essay on the two poets in TJie Cambridge History oj 
 English Literature, vol. vi (1910) is. accompanied by a full bibliog- 
 raphy, pp. 498-501. For an elaborate scholarly treatment of Web- 
 ster, readers may be referred to Dr. E. E. Stoll's John Webster 
 (1905); and for an account of the development of Elizabethan 
 tragedy to the writer's Tragedy, Types of Literature Series (190S). 
 The present Introduction has drawn freely from both of these books. 
 
2 JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 
 
 since then have allowed to be forgotten. Full of 
 Elizabethan sensationalism and exaggeration, adapted 
 to the tastes of his day, peculiarly the product of its 
 theatre, and long since unsuited to the stage's changing 
 requirements. The White Devil and The Duchess of 
 Malfi continue yet to excite and thrill men's imagina- 
 tions. In spite of all the tragedies of blood and tales 
 of terror written during the past three centuries, they 
 remain unsurpassed in the literature of ghastly horror. 
 As Swinburne's fine sonnet declares, they have usurped 
 the terrors of the grave, the '' very throne of night" : 
 
 "Rage, anguish, harrowing fear, heart-crazing crime, 
 Make monstrous all the murdering face of Time 
 Shown in the spheral orbit of a glass 
 Revolving." 
 
 Webster's work is typical of the constant conflict 
 between the immediate demands of the theatre and 
 high literary ambitions — a conflict which is every- 
 where reflected in the Elizabethan drama. That 
 drama responded to a peculiar public, mixed of court- 
 iers, citizens, and an almost illiterate populace; to 
 an audience vulgar, ignorant, and brutal, craving story, 
 sensation, and amusement. And it adapted itself to a 
 peculiar stage, half-lighted, without scenery or drop 
 curtain, with little decoration, without women actors, 
 a stage that offered little assistance to the play but, on 
 the other hand, put almost no barriers between audi- 
 ence and actor. 
 
 But the drama also responded to a vigorous national 
 life, to a time of stirring activity of politics and com- 
 merce, and of emotions and ideas as well. The lan- 
 guage itself was changing, taking readily new forms and 
 new words, and men were as eager for adventure and 
 
JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 3 
 
 discovery in literature as in any other field. The 
 young men who wrote for the theatre suited them- 
 selves readily to its conditions and demands, but they 
 were also mindful of the literary greatness which the 
 drama had attained in antiquity and of the literary 
 achievement to which it had suddenly summoned men 
 in their midst. They brought buffoonery, rant, and 
 sensational story to the stage, but they also brought 
 poetical ambition and an imaginative interest in the 
 springs of human action and passion. Every writer, 
 Shakespeare included, was inevitably conditioned 
 by the habits of his audience, his actors, and his stage. 
 Every writer, even the humblest, had some vision of in- 
 terpreting life into beautiful and abiding verse. A part 
 of Webster's work was done merely for immediate 
 consumption, including historical plays of the crudest 
 sort and comedies that met a passing taste for realism 
 and indecency. But in tragedy he found a form which 
 Marlowe, Shakespeare, and others had employed to 
 satisfy the public's love for horrors, rant, and blood- 
 I shed, and which they had also endowed with the dig- 
 : nity and grandeur of poetry. Here was his oppor- 
 tunity for fame, for poetry, and for giving voice to 
 something of his own soul. 
 
 All of his dramatic work, even when undeserving of 
 any place as literature, has a considerable historical 
 interest, because it illustrates so variously the differ- 
 ent trends and movements in the rapid growth and 
 expansion of the drama. That Webster w^as distinctly 
 and consciously imitative, that he was at every point 
 dependent upon the work of his predecessors, has been 
 shoun by the acute and exhaustive study of Dr. E. E. 
 Stoll.^ And Webster himself acknowledged his in- 
 
 1 John Webster, E. E. StoU, 1905. 
 
4 JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 
 
 debtedness with pride. He came somewhat late in the 
 drama's brief but rapid development. He began to 
 write plays ten years after the deaths of Greene and 
 Marlowe, and just at the moment of Shakespeare's 
 Hamlet. During the ensuing decade, Chapman and 
 Jonson, as well as Shakespeare, were at their greatest; 
 and before the decade was over the collaboration of the 
 youthful and brilliant Beaumont and Fletcher was at 
 its height. It was in emulation as well as rivalry of 
 these poets that Webster composed his masterpieces. 
 He began writing at a time when the drama had al- 
 ready won a commanding sway over the imagination 
 as well as the recreation of London, and was achieving 
 eminence as a field for literary endeavour; and he lived 
 to see its chief glories and the beginning of its decline. 
 He wrote as a student and disciple of his great contem- 
 poraries, and his preface to The White Devil gives one 
 of the earliest recognitions of the Elizabethan drama as 
 literature, the first avowal that in the crude playhouses 
 there was arising a great dramatic tradition. The 
 document is therefore of high importance in the his- 
 tory of the drama : 
 
 "Detraction is the sworn friend to ignorance: for mine 
 own part, I have ever truly cherished my good opinion of 
 other men's worthy labours; especially of that full and 
 heightened style of Master Chapman ; the laboured and un- ; 
 derstanding works of Master Jonson ; the no less worthy 
 composures of the both worthily excellent Master Beau- 
 mont and Master Fletcher ; and lastly (without wrong last 
 to be named), the right happy and copious industry of 
 Master Shakespeare, Master Dekker, and Master Hey- 
 wood; wishing what I write may be read by their light; 
 protesting that, in the strength of mine own judgement, I 
 know them so worthy, that though I rest silent in my own 
 
JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 5 
 
 work, yet to most of theirs I dare (without flattery) fix that 
 of Martial: 
 
 " ' non norunt haec monumenta mori.' " 
 
 ' Even Webster's great plays, as we shall see, repre- 
 sent, not only this general indebtedness, but also specific 
 and close relationships to the contemporary writers of 
 tragedy. His lesser plays are almost wholly imitative. 
 They give no clue to the real poet, and may be noticed 
 very briefly. In 1602 Webster is mentioned in Hens- 
 lowe's Diary as collaborating on four plays: Ccesafs 
 Fall, Two Shapes (sometimes read Two Harpes), 
 Lady Jane, and Christmas Comes hut Once a Year. 
 None of these survives except Lady Jane, which doubt- 
 less appears in an altered form in The Famous His- 
 tory of Sir Thomas Wyatt by Dekker and Webster, 
 printed in 1607. Besides Dekker and Webster, Mun- 
 day, Drayton, Middleton, Chettle, Heywood, and 
 Wentworth Smith assisted in one or more of these 
 plays, at least four being concerned in each play. 
 
 In 1604 Marston's Malcontent was published with 
 some additions by Webster, probably little more than 
 a new Induction for the performance by the King's 
 men. 
 
 In 1607 were printed Westward Hoe and Northward 
 Hoe, both written by Webster and Dekker, and acted 
 two or three years earlier. These are comedies of 
 London manners, realistic and coarse, in the main the 
 work of Dekker, and following a current fashion in 
 which Middleton was the leader. Webster's share in 
 either is small.^ His four ow^n plays were written at 
 later, but uncertain dates. The White Devil (printed 
 161 2) was probably written and acted about 16 10; The 
 
 1 Cf. The Collaboration of Webster and Dekker, F. E. Pierce 
 {Yale Studies in English, 1909). 
 
6 JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 
 
 Duchess of Malfi (pr. 1623) not long afterward. TJie 
 Dci'iTs Laic Case (pr. 1623) followed soon after these 
 two tragedies, which are mentionai in its dedication. 
 A p pi us and Virginia (pr. 1654) bears evidence in its 
 style and structure of a later date than these other 
 plays. In 1624 the official register of the Master of 
 Revels, Sir Henry Herbert, notes the licensing of *'a 
 new tragedy called A Late Murder of the Son upon the 
 Mother,'^ written by Ford and Webster. The play, 
 presumably based on some contemporary crime, is 
 non-extant. 
 
 Three other plays have been assigned in part to \\'eb- 
 ster. Kirkman, a very doubtful authority, published 
 in 166 1 two plays, The Thracian Wonder and .4 Cure 
 for a Cuckold, which he assigned to Webster and Row- 
 ley. The former play shows no sign of Webster, and 
 the traces of his manner in the second are by no means 
 indubitable. The Weakest Goeth to the Wall, as- 
 signed to Dekker and Webster by Edwin Phillips, has 
 never been accepted as his by students of the drama. 
 Webster's non-dramatic poetry is slight and unimpor- 
 tant. It includes some commendatory verses to INIun- 
 day and Hey wood, an elaborate elegy on Prince Henry 
 (1612) and Monuments of Honour (1624), "a tri- 
 umpli for the installation of the Lord Mayor." How 
 long Webster lived after 1624 we do not know. 
 
 A Cure for a Cuckold and The DeviVs Law Case are 
 comedies of a different sort from the early ones in which 
 Webster was associated with Dekker. They show, as 
 Mr. Stoll has demonstrated, the influence of new fash- 
 ions and of Fletcher's dominance in the drama. They 
 rely on sensational situations and stock types of char- 
 acter, and bring their tragic stories to happy conclu- 
 sions after a progress from surprise to surprise. Theyljn 
 
JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 7 
 
 have little distinction or merit. If we had a com- 
 plete record of Webster's life, it is not improbable that 
 we should find that he had a hand in many plays be- 
 sides those recorded. Even so, it may be doubted if 
 any of this unknown work would approach in value 
 the three plays contained in this volume. From our 
 brief review of the known facts of his dramatic career, 
 it is clear that the critic's task is to trace the relation- 
 ship of these plays to the general course of Elizabethan 
 tragedy, and thus to arrive at an appreciation of their 
 particular and abiding contribution to dramatic litera- 
 ture. 
 
 Tragedy, in the Elizabethan period, was a division 
 of the drama well recognized, but never precisely de- 
 fined. But its invariable accompaniment was violent 
 death. There are few Elizabethan tragedies that are 
 not included by the generic term, "tragedy of blood." 
 Murder after murder, varied by an occasional suicide, 
 and culminating in a general slaughter in the fifth act — 
 this is the inevitable program. Toward these deaths, 
 through plots and counterplots, many consuming emo- 
 tions lead the way, love, ambition, jealousy, tyranny, 
 and revenge. Of these none played a more active part 
 than revenge. It is rarely altogether absent from the 
 motives of the characters, and in a large group of plays 
 it is the chief dramatic force. The plays of Seneca, 
 so influential on all European tragedy during the later 
 Renaissance, had been mainly concerned with themes 
 of revenge or retribution ; and their model was readily 
 adapted to the English theatrical taste for bloodshed, 
 horror, and physical suffering. This English type of 
 revenge play was set by the enormous success of Kyd's 
 Spanish Tragedy, written at the time when Marlowe 
 was revolutionizing the public drama. This play tells 
 
8 JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 
 
 the story of a father seeking blood vengeance for a son 
 foully murdered. There are horrors and rant, in- 
 sanity and suicide, a love idyl and philosophizing, a 
 villain with an accomplice and a ghost who oversees 
 the action. The father is pursued by doubts and in 
 his irresolution is driven to madness, until he finally 
 resorts to dissimulation and entraps the murderers into 
 giving a play in which both they and he perish. Here, 
 in spite of the cumbersome structure, the dramatic 
 struggle between the avenger and the murderers offers 
 a capital plot. It is, indeed, one of the perennial plots 
 of fiction, and you may find it to-day in the latest melo- 
 drama or novel. There is also, in the hero's struggle 
 against a time that seems out of joint, and in his 
 lonely battle to punish the wicked, a theme that 
 touches on the mysteries of destiny and circumstance. 
 On a parallel story, the revenge of a son for a father, 
 Kyd wrote another play, the old Hamlet, a play un- 
 fortunately lost, which exerted a considerable influence 
 on the drama. Of that influence the most important 
 result was that twelve years later, at a time when 
 Ben Jonson was writing additions for The Spanish 
 Tragedy, Shakespeare used this other play of Kyd's 
 as a basis for his Hamlet. 
 
 Shakespeare's Hamlet brings us almost to Webster, 
 but in the years between its production and that of 
 The Spanish Tragedy, the "revenge play" had be- 
 come one of the most popular forms of tragedy. Mar- 
 lowe's plays had not dealt largely with revenge, except 
 his Jew of Malta, which either owes much to Kyd, or 
 else Kyd something to it; but his great protagonists, 
 his surging passion, and his beautiful verse had dis- 
 closed new vistas of what tragedy might undertake. 
 More specifically, he gave to the revenge play the 
 
JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 9 
 
 atrocious, unscrupulous, Machiavellian villain, a type 
 represented by Lorenzo of The Spanish Tragedy, 
 but much more fully developed in Barabas of The 
 Jew of Malta. And he also gave examples of a dra- 
 matic treatment of death, at once theatrically effective 
 and profoundly tragic. In the main, however, the re- 
 venge tragedy had followed Kyd, and the stage had 
 been filled with avengers and ghosts. These were 
 mostly imitative, but during a few years at the close of 
 the century and the beginning of the next there were 
 several plays, relating the story of a revenge of a son 
 for a father, which offered various departures from 
 Kyd. Besides Shakespeare's Hamlet there were Chet- 
 tle's Hoffman and Tourneur's Atheist'' s Tragedy, and, 
 earlier than any of these, Marston's Antonio^ s Revenge. 
 Marston is far from being an engaging writer. His 
 uncouth language, his abominable filth, and his ab- 
 surd pretentiousness are enough to hide from all but 
 the curious reader the powerfully imaginative concep- 
 tions to which he occasionally gives expression. But 
 his part in the development of tragedy, and espe- 
 cially his part in preparing the way for Toumeur and 
 Webster, was a considerable one. He began his lit- 
 erary career as a writer of satires, distinguished by 
 their fustian vocabulary and their realistic denuncia- 
 tions of hypocrisy and vice, and he presently trans- 
 iferred these themes and methods to the drama. 
 Antonio's Revenge followed the general scheme of 
 Kyd's plays with some additions of melodramatic hor- 
 rors and of pessimistic philosophizing. Marston's 
 energies were then turned to the direction in which 
 Chapman, Jonson, Middleton, and others were lead- 
 ing, that of satirical and realistic comedies. One of 
 these, The Malcontent, a sort of combination of the 
 
10 JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 
 
 revenge tragedy and satirical comedy, is a powerful 
 play. The malcontent, disgusted at society and de- 
 nouncing everything, nevertheless in his assumed 
 disguise seeks to set things right. This " humouristic " 
 conception owes something to Jonson, but the malcon- 
 tents who are frequent in later drama usually remind us 
 of Marston's hero. Both in The Malcontent and in his 
 tragedies Marston aimed his satire and realism chiefly 
 at the depiction of lust and villainy, already two impor- 
 tant ingredients of the revenge tragedy. Henceforth 
 they wax in importance until they overshadow the 
 primary motive of blood vengeance. 
 
 There thus arose a new development in the revenge 
 play, and one quite different from that which Shake- 
 speare made in Hamlet. Shakespeare made the most 
 of the motive of hesitation on the part of the avenger, 
 and, while retaining the intrigue and bloodshed of the 
 old story, made the internal conflict of his protagonist 
 of primary interest. Other writers neglected the hesi- 
 tation motive and developed the model of Kyd largely 
 by emphasizing the most horrible aspects of lust and 
 villainy. 
 
 If Marston or Toumeur had revised Hamlet, the 
 passion of Claudius for the Queen would have been 
 more prominent, Ophelia would have been involved in 
 some lustful entanglement, and Laertes would have 
 been as depraved and cynical as lago. Chettle, indeed, 
 in dealing with the revenge of a son for a father, made 
 the avenger an utterly bloodthirsty villain who in the 
 end is destroyed because of his passion for the mother 
 of his chief victim; and Toumeur, dealing with the 
 same plot in The Atheisfs Tragedy, made the mur- 
 derer lustful after the betrothed of the hero. Such 
 sensational entanglements of lust and villainy had not 
 
JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR li 
 
 been unknown in the earlier drama; the new develop- 
 ment was the result of an effort for realistic and search- 
 ing exploitation. In this the revenge play was in keep- 
 ing with the changing taste of the theatres, manifested 
 by the change of comedy from romantic to realistic 
 themes, by the interest in a realistic and satirical depic- 
 tion of London manners, and by a special fondness for 
 the presentation of sexual vice. Measure for Meas- 
 ure witnesses some influence of this change on Shake- 
 speare. Plays like Westward Hoe and Northward Hoe^ 
 in which Webster had a share, and some of Middleton's 
 comedies show how easily this new realism descended 
 to meeting a prurient demand. Other plays, like Mar- 
 ston's Malcontent and Jonson's Volpone are more 
 worthy representatives of a serious effort to expose and 
 chastise sin. If comedy followed sin and vice, tragedy 
 probed into their blackest recesses. Four plays writ- 
 ten within a few years of each other may be taken as 
 defining this new development of the revenge play : 
 Tourneur's Revenger^ s Tragedy, the anonymous 
 Second Maiden^ s Tragedy, and Webster's White Devil 
 and The Duchess of Malfi. They may be said to 
 create a type of tragedy which on the whole remains 
 the prevailing form for over thirty years, until the 
 closing of the theatres. I have elsewhere described 
 in sufficient detail the characteristics of this group of 
 plays, and I may perhaps be excused for quoting the 
 passage here : 
 
 " Revenge is no longer the main motive, but is a subsid- 
 iary element in complicated stories of revolting lust and 
 depravity. Tragedy has become the representation of 
 vice and sin, with a proneness for their foulest entangle- 
 ments. In one play a brother plays the part of pander to 
 his sister; in another a father to his daughter; and in a 
 
12 JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 
 
 third a mother to her daughter. Nor is revenge, even in its 
 subordinate position, the simple blood-for-blood requital 
 that it is in Kyd. It may be for various causes beside mur- 
 der ; it is born of malice rather than duty ; it may share in 
 the moral turpitude of the rest of the action. The ghost no 
 longer directs the course of revenge, and may disappear 
 entirely. In TJie Revenger's Tragedy the skull of the be- 
 trothed, as the skeleton in Hoffman, takes the place of the 
 apparition; and in other plays the duties of the ghost are 
 minimized or farmed out among various supernatural 
 agents, two female ghosts appearing. Hesitation on the 
 part of the avenger does not appear. Indeed, his entire 
 character has changed. He may be a villain, as in Hoff?nan, 
 or the villain's accomplice, or one of Marston's "mal- 
 contents," or a combination of these parts. The other 
 leading elements in the Kydian type are preserved. .Jnsan- 
 ity of various forms, real and pretended, is prominent'. In- 
 trigue of a complicated kind abounds, but it is often de- 
 pendent, after the fashion of current comedy, largely on 
 improbable disguises. Deaths are as frequent as ever and 
 more horrible. Much of the old stage effect reappears, as 
 in the masques, funerals, ghosts, and exhibition of dead 
 bodies, but there is a great increase in the number and in- 
 genuity of melodramatic sensations. Each play is a cham- 
 ber of horrors. In one a wife dies from kissing the pois- 
 oned portrait of her husband ; in another, the lustful king 
 sucks poison from the jaw of a skull ; and in a third, from 
 the painted lips of a corpse. Comets blaze, there are many 
 portents, the time is ever midnight, the scene the grave- 
 yard, the air smells of corruption, skulls and corpses are the 
 dramatis personcT. Every means seem to be employed to 
 make theatrically effective the horrors of death and decay. 
 And once, at least, these means are used with tremendous 
 power in the riot of madness, torture, and corruption that 
 preludes the death of the Duchess of Malfi. 
 
 "All or nearly all of the active characters are black with 
 sin. The extraordinary exploitation of villainy in Eliza- 
 
 ,1 
 
 _ _ A 
 
j JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 13 
 
 bethan tragedy here reaches its culmination. The arch 
 villain as ruthlessly devoted to crime as Hoffman, the ac- 
 complice assiduous in revolting baseness, the villain touched 
 by remorse, the malcontent reviling human life — all these 
 appear, sometimes all combined in one person, and play 
 their parts along with unshrinking prostitutes and lustful 
 monarchs. The study of villainy, however, has gained in- 
 tensity and plausibility over the earlier plays. If none of 
 the villains take to themselves much individuality, most of 
 them have moments of dramatic impressiveness, and they 
 are intended to be realistic. They are drawn with an ac- 
 cumulation of detail, a fondness for probing into deprav- 
 ity, with a sense of the dramatic value of devilry, and with 
 a bitterness and cynicism that often seem sincere and search- 
 ing. It is this cynicism which gives character to the reflec- 
 tive elements of these plays. The Kydian soliloquy on fate 
 has given way to the prevailing satirical and bitter tone that 
 finds its favourite themes in the sensuaHty of women and the 
 hypocrisy and greed of courts, and its favourite means of 
 expression in the connotation of the obscene and bestial." ^ 
 
 These are, I believe, the more striking characteristics 
 of the type which Toumeur and Webster helped to 
 create. They recur in the tragedies of Middleton, 
 Ford, Massinger, and Shirley ; and after the Restora- 
 tion in the plays of Nathaniel Lee and others ; and they 
 reappear in the tragedies of romanticists at the begin- 
 ning of the nineteenth century. While several plays 
 have been grouped together because of their salient 
 resemblances, their differences are not to be neglected. 
 It is from an examination of these differences that we 
 may best arrive at a distinction between Toumeur and 
 Webster. 
 
 Only two plays by Cyril Toumeur survive, — The 
 Atheisfs Tragedy (pr. 161 1) and The Revenger'' s 
 
 1 Tragedy. A. H. Thorndike, 1908, pp. 199-201. 
 
14 JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 
 
 Tragedy (pr. 1607) ; both were probably acted a few 
 years before either of Webster's tragedies. The Athe- 
 ist's Tragedy, acted about 1603, tells the story of a 
 son's revenge for a father, which it unites to an exceed- 
 ingly gross under-plot. The play as a whole is both 
 absurd and contemptible, but it presents an original 
 and interesting treatment of the revenge motive. The 
 ghost is a Christian one who commands his son to 
 leave revenge to heaven. The son after a struggle ac- 
 quiesces, and is saved by the miraculous suicide of 
 the atheist villain. The atheist's soliloquies make a 
 connected commentary on the ways of Providence. 
 Though the play is largely devoted to lust and vil- 
 lainy, this new treatment of ghost and avenger sug- 
 gests many points of comparison with Hamlet. 
 
 The Revenger's Tragedy, acted 1605-1606, follows 
 rather the models of The Malcontent and Hoffman. 
 Dr. Ward's comment on the plot must be endorsed. It 
 is, he declares, "in its sewer-like windings one of the 
 blackest and most polluting devised by the perverted 
 imaginations of an age prone to feed on the worst scan- 
 dals of the Italian decadence." ^ More prurient, and 
 more horrible than his predecessors, Tourneur is also 
 more imaginative. His picture of a court rotten to the 
 core, of a festering sore awaiting the knife, must be 
 pronounced the product of an original and dramatic 
 imagination. In his dramatic structure he uses the 
 principles of contrast and climax to secure startling 
 effects. He delights in unspeakable juxtapositions, 
 and he piles horror on horror without a trace of relief. 
 His picture, powerfully conceived and 'daringly con- 
 structed, gains its colouring from his vivid life-like 
 dialogue and his brilliant, hectic imagery. 
 
 ^ History of English Dramatic Literature, A. W. Ward, III. ^" i 
 
JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 15 
 
 When it comes to characterization, however, Tour- 
 neur's imagination is at a loss. He is essentially 
 melodramatic; he can build up thrilling situations, 
 and can make them vivid through phrase and figure; 
 but he cannot relate them to his characters. In The 
 Atheist's Tragedy he fails utterly to translate his phil- 
 osophical conception into terms of human motive. In 
 The Revenger's Tragedy you are never sure of the 
 actors. Each is one thing at one moment, and another 
 at the next. Vendice, the malcontent, is a moralizing 
 avenger, and also a degenerate, perverted to a delight in 
 "pruriency steeped in horrors." The mother and the 
 daughter, though they share in effective dialogues, are 
 utterly without individuality. F.verything is theatrical 
 and melodramatic ; and everything is carried to excess. 
 The malcontent-avenger, the lustful monarch, the bas- 
 tard villain, and the mother-bawd are monstrous beyond 
 what their roles suggest. To borrow his own words — 
 his people, drunk with crime, "reel to hell"; his trag- 
 edy is one "to make an old man's eyes bloodshot." 
 
 Without individuality or consistency of characteriza- 
 tion, the play is without moral significance. There is, 
 to be sure, moralizing enough, and his plays carry 
 direct lessons, but they supply no premises for moral 
 conclusions. They do not represent life, and they have 
 nothing of valiie to say about life. Their people are 
 not men and women ; they are hobgoblins, satyrs, and 
 trolls. His plays are nightmares. A chamber of hor- 
 rors is what he succeeds in presenting, and that is all. 
 Both as playwright and poet, he saw the world, not 
 populated with human beings, but crowded with 
 ghastly spectres. For these he could find startling 
 scene or brilliant image, but never the similitude of life. 
 
 It is in characterization that the differences between 
 
l6 JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 
 
 Webster and Toiirneur are most obvious. For Web- 
 ster studied men and women, and subdued the con- 
 ventionalities and theatricalities of the tragedy of 
 horror to the presentation of individuality. The 
 differences between the two men, however, are many. 
 Webster was the more studious, the better read, and 
 the more sincerely devoted to his art. Where Tour- 
 neur hurried to give his prodigious ideas imagery and 
 spectacle, Webster, we may believe, worked slowly and 
 laboriously, making the most of his knowledge of his 
 great contemporaries, and fitting the current prac- 
 tices of the stage to the ways and utterances of char- 
 acters over whom he had long brooded. 
 
 In writing tragedies he was beholden, not only to the 
 writers whose material most closely resembled his own, 
 to Kyd, Marston, and Tourneur, but, perhaps more 
 consciously, to the greater writers, Jonson, Chapman, 
 and Shakespeare. Chapman, whom he seems to single 
 out above all others in his acknowledgment of indebt- 
 edness already quoted, had written his four most fa- 
 mous tragedies by the time of The White Devil, two 
 dealing with Bussy D'Ambois and two with Biron. 
 These presented studies of recent French history, and 
 were clothed in a blank verse almost Shakespearean in , 
 its commingling of splendid and complicated tropes < 
 with pregnant aphorisms. They seem to have in- 
 spired Webster to attempt a studied and heightened 
 style. There are few passages in his tragedies that 
 have not been carefully considered, few aphorisms that 
 have not been painstakingly moulded. The figures in 
 each play seem deliberately chosen in view of the gen- 
 eral theme and tone. There is a manifest care to 
 create details in harmony with the main picture. 
 Moreover, Webster, like Chapman and Jonson, at- 
 
JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 17 
 
 tempts the elaborate and comprehensive dehneation of 
 character. Tragedy, in his view as well as theirs, 
 involved the full portraiture of extraordinary figures. 
 In these respects, too, he must have learned something 
 from Shakespeare; for, though specific indebtedness 
 is not clear, the processes of his art resemble Shake- 
 speare's. Like the latter, he was absorbed in the study 
 of the effects of crime upon character, and he acquired 
 the power of realizing these momentarily with amaz- 
 ing dramatic truth. In fine, Webster, in spite of his 
 attachment to a type of tragedy theatrically popular 
 and absurdly unreal, was emulous, not of the masters of 
 melodrama, but of those who were making tragedy the 
 revelation of the philosophy and poetry of human suf- 
 fering and ruin. 
 
 He nevertheless adhered closely to the externals of 
 the tragedy of revenge. The description of the type 
 just given applies to his plays as closely as to Tour- 
 neur's. There is hardly a scene or a situation in his 
 two great plays that cannot be substantially duplicated 
 elsewhere. When he departs from the paraphernalia 
 of Marston and Tourneur, it is to return to the older 
 technic of Kyd and Chapman. Keeping this old ma- 
 terial, he lacked the dramatic ingenuity to work it over 
 into fresh surprises. He had not the peculiar talent 
 that could light-heartedly bind together murders, 
 I ghosts, and skeletons into a rip-roarer. And his plays 
 I lack the essential elements of structure. He could not 
 I reduce his matter to a coherent dramatic fable. He 
 was not a great playwright. As far as technic is 
 concerned, he was hardly more than a copyist and 
 compiler, borrowing the effects and devices of his 
 predecessors, and saved from their worst excesses by 
 the gravity and veracity of his imagination. 
 
1 8 JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 
 
 His great plays make their appeal to readers to-day 
 and must have won their success on the Elizabethan 
 stage largely through the interest excited in their lead- 
 ing characters. Webster's characterization is not ana- 
 lytic, scientific, explanatory. We do not entirely com- 
 prehend the motives of his people; neither did he. 
 He was making over Italian stories for the stage, fol- 
 lowing a certain fashion in the drama, creating parts 
 along certain well-tried lines for certain actors. But, if 
 he was not a good constructor of plays, he had an ex- 
 traordinary power of visualizing and integrating the 
 parts that he created. He made white devils, tortured 
 women, moralizing panders, and so did others; but 
 Webster knew how his wretches looked, and he could 
 give them authentic speech. Their reality and impres- 
 siveness are undoubtedly suited to the stage. They 
 were fitted to certain actors, and conceived as parts of 
 crises of passion, of climaxes of sensation. But their 
 interest to Webster and even to his own time was some- 
 thing other than that of stage figures. In an age 
 familiar with lust and murder in their more violent 
 forms, stories of Italian crime and intrigue had the fas- 
 cination of reality as well as of horror. These stories 
 gave to the stage its spectacles and thrills, and they 
 directed the greater dramatists to a curious and 
 searching inquiry into human nature. Like Shake- 
 speare, Webster made his tragedies of horror his means 
 of approach to an interrogation and criticism of life. 
 He is ever probing his dramatis personae with the 
 query. What is the meaning of life? 
 
 The most famous of Webster's characters are his 
 two women. White devils have been common in the 
 drama, and the union of beauty and depravity perhaps 
 offers too patent an opportunity for stage effects. 
 
JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 19 
 
 Webster's white devil (who bears no resemblance to 
 the real Vittoria) is undoubtedly drawn for the theatre. 
 She is a part of the situations; she never speechifies 
 unless the situation requires it; and she responds mag- 
 nificently to the great crises. At the same time she is 
 the product of a painstaking realism that makes every 
 detail suggestive of actual life. And the portrait, so 
 precisely drawn, is made memorable by the splendid 
 poetry of her discourse. Take, for example, the begin- 
 ning of the play, where her speeches are studiedly com- 
 monplace until she describes her dream, revealing her 
 nature and the impending crimes, and symbolic of the 
 whole play in its gloomy imagery as well as in its mat- 
 ter. 
 
 " When to my rescue there arose, methought, 
 A whirlwind, which let fall a massy arm 
 From that strong plant ; 
 
 And both were struck dead by that sacred yew, 
 In that base shallow grave that was their due." 
 
 Or take her in the famous trial scene when she meets 
 all accusations with that startling effrontery which 
 Charles Lamb found "innocence-resembling." We 
 are reminded, not of innocence, but of many a woman 
 in actual life facing trial with a shamelessness that is 
 almost heroic. The consistency of the character is 
 so maintained throughout that there is no speech which 
 violates it ; hardly an important speech which does not 
 reveal it. You can gather from her speeches, as from 
 those of Shakespeare's Cleopatra, a series of phrases 
 and metaphors that reproduce her without aid of 
 story and scene. Recall the scene of Brachiano's 
 death. During his ravings, how few and simple are 
 her words, and yet how revealing! And in the last 
 
20 JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 
 
 complicated and prolonged scene where all are killed, 
 how splendid as poetry and how consistent with her 
 character are her dying defiances! 
 
 ■ "My soul, like to a ship in a black storm, 
 Is driven, I know not whither." 
 
 The Duchess of Malfi is a figure far less suited to the 
 drama. She does not play an active part. She does 
 not dominate and direct the action ; she is only a suf- 
 ferer. But Webster's triumph is again that of com- 
 pelling sensational clap-trap and abnormal cruelty to 
 assist in the revelation of real human beings. The 
 motives and emotions of the duchess are not primarily 
 sensational or unusual ; she is only a likable and nor- 
 mal woman who marries a worthy man who is her 
 social inferior. But in the ordeal of gibbering mad- 
 men and dismembered corpses she summons that for- 
 titude with which so many of her sisters have known 
 how to meet suffering and torment. Again we have 
 that union of dramatic fitness, of detailed truth to life, 
 and of superb phrase which render Webster's char- 
 acterization comparable with Shakespeare's. Here 
 is the most terrible of all the chambers of horror that 
 the Elizabethan imagination could create, and in the 
 midst of it, a real, a simple, and an undaunted woman : 
 
 "I am Duchess of Malfi still." 
 
 Hardly less extraordinary than Webster's women are 
 his villains, Flamineo and Bosola. If they are more 
 stagy and less consistently individualized, it is not 
 because Webster did not try to make them real. Fla- 
 mineo is not made to live; his motives are hopelessly 
 contradictory; but he dies with an exhibition of tre- 
 mendous effrontery scarcely equalled by any of the 
 
JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 21 
 
 villains of literature. Of the much discussed Bosola, I 
 agree with Mr. Stoll that, like Flamineo, he represents 
 ''two incongruous, incompatible roles — malcontent 
 and tool- villain." These had become stock types on 
 the stage — the cynical moralist who denounces and ex- 
 poses unrighteousness, and the conscienceless accom- 
 plice who sells himself to his wicked master, but is 
 tricked and receives death as his only reward. The 
 
 i combination of the two parts made an effective monster 
 for the Elizabethan stage, but it manifestly violates all 
 
 « psychology. Webster as usual accepted the theatrical 
 part, but he recognized, as Mr. Stoll notes, its incon- 
 sistency, and strove, though not with entire success, to 
 
 ; integrate the conflicting traits. Bosola represents the 
 conflict of two diverse natures. He goes on multiply- 
 ing wickedness and giving his devil full play, until he 
 finally heeds his good angel and undertakes one last 
 deed of virtue. If this conception is not adequately 
 motived, it has enough human resemblance to exercise 
 an uncanny fascination ; and it has been perpetuated 
 in modem fiction. 
 
 Bosola, like the other persons of Webster's tragedies, 
 is conceived with a full recognition of moral values, 
 though these cannot always be harmonized with the 
 functions of the stage part. Webster is eager enough 
 to mix the vile and the noble, but he never, like Tour- 
 neur, fails to distinguish between them. He is, in fact, 
 so anxious to keep in the light of the moral law that he 
 often forces his moralizing upon us ; but his great 
 virtue, in comparison with the other wTiters of his 
 school, is that he creates his dramas, not merely as 
 series of stage sensations, nor yet as congeries of hor- 
 rible phantoms, but as stories of the relations of men to 
 men. The ties and obligations of human society are 
 
22 JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 
 
 always in his view. Even when he is dealing with 
 loathsome deeds and despicable wretches, he can still 
 impel us to a strengthened respect for duty, virtue, and 
 sympathy. 
 
 "Frail, on frail rafts, across wide- wallowing waves, 
 Shapes here and there of child and mother pass." 
 
 He summons his villains, panders, assassins, and 
 sensualists to a moral tribunal. His study of character 
 proceeds by the method of the Inquisition. He arrives 
 at truth through torture, but he secures answers that 
 come from the soul. The replies to his insistent query 
 — What is the meaning of life ? — do not comprehend 
 life, they may not comprehend Webster's own beliefs, 
 but they do provide an impressive view of one domain 
 in the tragedy of life. They reveal its physical horrors, 
 its moral degradations, the blackness of its vice and 
 cruelty, the helplessness of its virtue and righteousness. 
 Brood as Webster did over stories of revolting crime, 
 and you must find much in life and death that is both 
 horrible and hopeless. This is the province which his 
 tragedies make their own. But Webster, even when 
 he presents the last view of a lost soul, sees a glimmer 
 of the light of righteousness across the blackness. 
 Thus, Bosola dies : 
 
 " We are only like dead walls, or vaulted graves, 
 That ruined, yield no echo. Fare you well. 
 It may be pain, but no harm to me to die 
 In so good a quarrel. O this gloomy world! 
 In what a shadow, or deep pit of darkness. 
 Doth womanish and fearful mankind live ! 
 Let worthy minds ne'er stagger in distrust 
 To suffer death or shame for what is just: 
 Mine is another voyage." 
 
JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 23 
 
 Appius and Virginia stands somewhat apart from 
 the other two tragedies. Apparently written much 
 later, it deserts the horrific school for other models, 
 and it reflects a tamer imagination and a more timid 
 study of life. Webster was, perhaps, restrained from 
 daring innovation by his historical material and by the 
 great examples of Shakespeare's Roman plays. At 
 any rate, though the play retains many of the charac- 
 teristics of his earlier tragedies, particularly in its style 
 and its treatment of Appius, it does not distinguish 
 itself greatly from contemporary plays. By its date, 
 tragedy was conforming to established traditions and 
 methods, and all its representatives take on a certain 
 sameness. Appius and Virginia does not escape this 
 lack of individual distinction. One could almost be- 
 lieve that it was the work of Massinger, or of another. 
 Yet it must be ranked among the best of Roman his- 
 torical plays outside of Shakespeare; and it well de- 
 serves the praise that Dyce awards it in one of those 
 critical dicta on which he so rarely ventured but which 
 are so invariably well-considered and judicious. 
 "This drama is so remarkable for its simplicity, its 
 deep pathos, its unobtrusive beauties, its singleness of 
 plot, and the easy unimpeded march of its story, that 
 perhaps there are readers who will prefer it to any other 
 of our author's productions." ^ 
 
 But no admirer of Webster will so prefer it. You 
 cannot put Appius and Virginia above his other trage- 
 dies, unless you deny the greatness of his genius, and 
 indeed the greatness of the Elizabethan drama. The 
 White Devil and The Duchess ofMalfi have faults that 
 Appius and Virginia lacks, an overplus of horrors and 
 a confused structure. But these are the common de- 
 
 ^ The Works of John Webster, A. Dyce. Introduction. 
 
24 JOHN WEBSTER AND CYRIL TOURNEUR 
 
 fects of the Elizabethan drama, which are abundantly 
 recompensed by its wealth of life and its poetry ; and 
 in these respects Appius and Virginia is the inferior 
 of the other plays. Their triumphs it shares only in 
 part — their dramatic realization of vice and death and 
 suffering as parts of life, their creation of an Inferno 
 and discovery of human beings therein, and the un- 
 forgettable poetry with which their tortured beings 
 speak. 
 
 A/. ""^^^^rr^^^^t^cJ^ 
 
THE WHITE DEVIL 
 
 OE 
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA 
 
THE WHITE DEVIL 
 
 !■ 
 
 i The plot of the The White Devil is based upon actual histor- 
 cal events, though the personages here represented have, for 
 iramatic reasons, been considerably exaggerated. The case of 
 i^ittoria Accoramboni, who was murdered in 1585, was a noto- 
 ious one and excited much feeling and discussion. There were 
 nany versions of the story, and Webster seems not to have had 
 iccess to information at first hand. A thorough study of the 
 jources of the play may be found in the Modern Language 
 2ua7'terly, cxi. 12 (1900). There are four early editions of the 
 ext : the edition of 161 2, here reproduced with certain emenda- 
 ions of recognized authority, and the editions of 1631, 1665, 
 ind 1672. 
 
 27 
 
TO THE READER 
 
 In publishing this tragedy, I do but challenge to 
 myself that liberty which other men have ta'en before 
 me : not that I affect praise by it, for nos hcec novhmis 
 esse nihil ; only, since it was acted in so dull a time of 
 winter, presented in so open and black a theatre, that, 
 it wanted (that which is the only grace and setting-out 
 of a tragedy) a full and understanding auditory ; and 
 that, since that time, I have noted most of the people 
 that come to that play-house resemble those ignorant 
 asses who, visiting stationers' shops, their use is not 
 to inquire for good books, but new books ; I present J 
 it to the general view with this confidence : ] 
 
 Nee rhoneos metues maligniorum, 
 Nee scorr\bris tunicas dabis molestas." 
 
 If it be objected this is no true dramatic poem, I shall 
 easily confess it ; 7ion potes in migas dicere plura meas^ 
 ipse ego quam dixi. Willingly, and not ignorantly, iu 
 this kind have I faulted : for, should a man present td 
 such an auditory the most sententious tragedy that eve: 
 was written, observing all the critical laws, as heigh; 
 of style, and gravity of person, enrich it with the senten 
 tious Chorus, and, as it were, liven death in the passion- 
 ate and weighty Nuntius ; yet, after all this divine rapture. 
 O dura messoj'iwi ilia, the breath that comes from the 
 uncapable multitude is able to poison it ; and, ere it be 
 acted, let the author resolve to fix to every scene this- 
 of Horace : 
 
 Hzec poreis hodie eomedenda relinques." 
 28 
 
 
THE WHITE DEVIL 29 
 
 To those who report I was a long time in finishing 
 this tragedy, I confess, I do not write with a goose quill 
 winged with two feathers ; and if they will needs make 
 it my fault, I must answer them with that of Euripides 
 to Alcestides, a tragic writer. Alcestides objecting that 
 Euripides had only, in three days, composed three verses, 
 whereas himself had written three hundred, " Thou tell- 
 est truth," quoth he, " but here's the difference, — thine 
 shall only be read for three days, whereas mine shall 
 continue three ages." 
 
 Detraction is the sworn friend to ignorance : for mine 
 own part, I have ever truly cherished my good opinion 
 of other men's worthy labours; especially of that full 
 and heightened style of Master Chapman ; the laboured 
 and understanding works of Master Jonson ; the no less 
 worthy composures of the both worthily excellent Master 
 Beaumont and Master Fletcher ; and lastly (without 
 wrong last to be named), the right happy and copious 
 industry of Master Shakespeare, Master Dekker, and 
 Master Heywood ; wishing what I write may be read 
 by their light ; protesting that, in the strength of mine 
 own judgement, I know them so worthy, that though I 
 rest silent in my own work, yet to most of theirs I dare 
 ^without flattery) fix that of Martial : 
 
 Non norunt haec monumenta mori. 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 MoxTiCELSO, a Cardinal; afterwards Pope Paul the Fourth. 
 Francisco de Medicis, Duke of Florence; in the Fifth Act disguise 
 
 for a Moor, under the name of Mulixassar. 
 Brachiano, otherwise Paulo Giordano Ursixi, Duke of Brachianc 
 
 Husband to Isabella, and in love with \'ittoria. 
 Giovanni, his Son by Isabella. 
 LoDOVico, an Italian Count, but deca\ed. 
 
 Antonelli, I . his Friends, and Dependants of the Duke c 
 Gasparo, f Florence. 
 
 C.\MiLL0, Husband to \'ittoria. 
 HoRTENSio, one of Brachiaxo's OfBcers. 
 Marcello, an Attendant of the Duke of Florence, and Brother 1 
 
 VlTTORIA. 
 
 Flamixeo, his Brother; Secretary to Brachiano. 
 Jaques, a Moor, Servant to Giovanni. 
 
 Ambassadors, Courtiers, Lawyers, Officers, Physicians, Conjurei 
 Armourer, Attendants. 
 
 Isabella, Sister to Francisco de Medicis, and Wife to Brachianc 
 Vittoria Corombona, a Venetian Lady; first married to Camilli 
 
 afterwards to Brachiano. 
 Cornelia, Mother to \'ittoria, Flamixeo, and Marcello. 
 Zaxche, a Moor, Servant to Vittoria. 
 
 ScEXE — Italy 
 
 30 
 
THE WHITE DEVIL 
 
 ACT THE FIRST 
 
 Scene r 
 
 Enter Count Lodovico, Antonelli, ajid Gasparo 
 
 Lod. Banished ! 
 
 Ant. It grieved me much to hear the sentence. 
 
 Lod. Ha, ha, O Democritus, thy gods 
 That govern the whole world ! courtly reward 
 ^nd punishment. Fortune's a right whore : 
 f she give aught, she deals it in small parcels, 
 That she may take away all at one swoop. 
 This 'tis to have great enemies ! God 'quite them, 
 ^our wolf no longer seems to be a wolf 
 Than when she's hungry. 
 
 Gas. You term those enemies, 
 
 \re men of princely rank. 
 
 Lod. O I pray for them : lo 
 
 The violent thunder is adored by those 
 .\re pashed in pieces by it. 
 
 Ant. Come, my lord. 
 
 You are justly doomed ; look but a Uttle back 
 Into your former life : you have in three years 
 Ruined the noblest earldom. 
 
 Gas. Your followers 
 
 Have swallowed you, like mummia,"^ and being sick 
 With such unnatural and horrid physic, 
 Vomit you up i' th' kennel. 
 
 » A superior n in the text indicates a note at the end of the volume. 
 31 
 
32 THE WHITE DEVIL [act i 
 
 Ant. All the damnable degrees 
 
 Of drinking have you staggered through. One citizen 
 Is lord of two fair manors, called you master, 20 
 
 Only for caviare." 
 
 Gas. Those noblemen 
 
 Which were invited to your prodigal feasts, 
 (Wherein the phoenix scarce could scape your throats)" 
 Laugh at your misery, as fore-deeming you 
 An idle meteor, which drawn forth the earth ° 
 Would be soon lost i' the air. 
 
 Ant. Jest upon you, 
 
 And say you were begotten in an earthquake ; 
 You have ruined such fair lordships. 
 
 Lod. Very good. 
 
 This well goes with two buckets : I must tend 
 The pouring out of either. 
 
 Gas. Worse than these. 3° 
 
 You have acted certain murders here in Rome, 
 Bloody and full of horror. 
 
 Lod. 'Las, they were flea-bitings : 
 
 Why took they not my head then ? 
 
 Gas. O my lord ! 
 
 The law doth sometimes mediate, thinks it good 
 Not ever to steep violent sins in blood : 
 This gentle penance may both end your crimes. 
 And in the example better these bad times. 
 
 Lod. So, but I wonder then some great men scape 
 This banishment : there's Paulo Giordano Ursini, 
 The duke of Brachiano, now lives in Rome, 40" 
 
 And by close panderism seeks to prostitute 
 The honour of Vittoria Corombona : 
 Vittoria, she that might have got my pardon 
 For one kiss to the duke. 
 
 Ant. Have a full man within you : 
 
 We see that trees bear no such pleasant fruit 
 There where they grew first, as where they are new set. 
 Perfumes, the more they are chafed, the more they render 
 
SCENE II] THE WHITE DEVIL 33 
 
 Their pleasing scents : and so affliction 
 Expresseth virtue fully, whether true, 
 Or else adulterate. 
 
 Lod. Leave your painted comforts ; 50 
 
 I'll make Italian cut-works° in their guts 
 If ever I return. 
 
 Gas. O sir! 
 
 Lod. I am patient. 
 
 I have seen some ready to be executed, 
 Give pleasant looks, and money, and grow familiar 
 With the knave hangman ; so do I ; I thank them, 
 And would account them nobly merciful, 
 Would they dispatch me quickly. 
 . Ant. Fare you well ; 
 
 We shall find time, I doubt not, to repeal 
 Your banishment. 
 
 Lod. I am ever bound to you. 
 
 [A flourish of trumpets announcing the Duke. 
 
 This is the world's alms ; pray make use of it. 60 
 
 Great men sell sheep, thus to be cut in pieces. 
 
 When first they have shorn them bare, and sold their 
 
 fleeces. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IP 
 Enter Brachiano, Camillo, Flamineo, Vittoria 
 
 Brach. Your best of rest. 
 
 Vit. Unto my lord the duke, 
 
 The best of welcome. More lights : attend the duke. 
 
 [Exeunt Camillo and Vittoria. 
 
 Brach. Flamineo. 
 
 Flam. My lord. 
 
 Brach. Quite lost, Flamineo. 
 
 Flafn. Pursue your noble wishes, I am prompt 
 As lightning to your service. O my lord ! 
 The fair Vittoria, my happy sister, 
 
34 THE WHITE DEVIL [act I 
 
 Shall give you present audience. Gentlemen, [Whisper, 
 Let the caroch go on, and 'tis his pleasure 
 You put out all your torches, and depart. 
 
 Brack. Are we so happy ? 
 
 Flam. Can it be otherwise ? ic 
 
 Observed you not to-night, my honoured lord. 
 Which way soe'er you went, she threw her eyes ? 
 I have dealt already with her chambermaid, 
 Zanche the Moor ; and she is wondrous proud 
 To be the agent for so high a spirit. 
 
 Brack. We are happy above thought, because 'bove 
 merit. i6 
 
 Flam. 'Bove merit ! we may now talk freely : 'bove 
 merit ! what is't you doubt ? her coyness ! that's but the 
 superficies of lust most women have ; yet why should 
 ladies blush to hear that named, which they do not fear 
 to handle? O they are politic; they know our desire 
 is increased by the difficulty of enjoying ; whereas satiety 
 is a blunt, weary, and drowsy passion. If the buttery- 
 hatch at court stood continually open, there would be 
 nothing so passionate crowding, nor hot suit after the 
 beverage. 
 
 Brack. O but her jealous husband — 27 
 
 Flam. Hang him ; a gilder that hath his brains perished 
 with quicksilver is not more cold in the liver." The 
 great barriers moulted not more feathers ° than he hath 
 shed hairs, by the confession of his doctor. An Irish 
 gamester that will play himself naked," and then wage 
 all downwards, at hazard, is not more venturous. So 
 unable to please a woman, that, like a Dutch doublet, 
 all his back is shrunk into his breeches. 
 Shroud you within this closet, good my lord ; 
 Some trick now must be thought on to divide 
 My brother-in-law from his fair bedfellow. 
 
 Brack. should she fail to come! 39 
 
 Flam. I must not have your lordship thus unwisely 
 amorous. I myself have loved a lady, and pursued her 
 
SCENE II] THE WHITE DEVIL ' 35 
 
 with a great deal of under-age protestation, whom some 
 three or four gallants that have enjoyed would with all 
 their hearts have been glad to have been rid of. 'Tis 
 just Hke a summer bird-cage in a garden : the birds that 
 are without despair to get in, and the birds that are 
 within despair and are in a consumption, for fear they 
 shall never get out. Away, away, my lord. 
 
 [Exit Brachiano. 
 
 Enter Camillo 
 
 See here he comes. This fellow by his apparel 
 
 Some mens would judge a politician ; 50 
 
 But call his wit in question, you shall find it 
 
 Merely an ass in's foot-cloth." How now, brother ? 
 
 What, traveUing to bed to your kind wife ? 
 
 Cam. I assure you, brother, no ; my voyage lies 
 More northerly, in a far colder clime. 
 I do not well remember, I protest. 
 When I last lay with her. 
 
 Flam. Strange you should lose your count. 
 
 Cam. We never lay together, but ere morning 
 There grew a flaw" between us. 
 
 Flam. 'Thad been your part 
 
 To have made up that flaw. 
 
 Cam. True, but she loathes 60 
 
 I should be seen in't. 
 
 Flam. Why, sir, what's the matter ? 
 
 Cam. The duke your master visits me, I thank him ; 
 And I perceive how, like an earnest bowler, 
 He very passionately leans that way 
 He should have his bowl run. 
 
 Fla7n. I hope you do not think — 
 
 Cam. That nobleman bowl booty ? " faith, his cheek 
 Hath a most excellent bias : it would fain 
 Jump with my mistress." 
 
 Flam. Will you be an ass, 
 
"I 
 
 36 • THE WHITE DEVIL [act 
 
 I 
 
 Despite your Aristotle ? or a cuckold, 
 
 Contrary to your Ephemerides, 7c 
 
 Which shows you under what a smiling planet 
 
 You were first swaddled ? ! 
 
 Cam. Pew wew, sir ; tell not me 
 
 Of planets nor of Ephemerides. 
 A man may be made cuckold in the day-time, 
 When the stars eyes are out. 
 
 Flam. Sir, God b'wi' you ; ^ 
 
 I do commit you to your pitiful pillow ^ 
 
 Stuffed with horn-shavings.'^ 
 
 Cam. Brother ! 
 
 Flam. God refuse me 
 
 Might I advise you now, your only course 
 Were to lock up your wife. E^ 
 
 Cam. 'Twere very good. 
 
 Flam. Bar her the sight of revels. 
 
 Cam. Excellent. 80 
 
 Flam. Let her not go to church, but, like a hound 
 In leam,^ at your heels. 
 
 Cam. 'Twere for her honour. 
 
 Flam. And so you should be certain in one fortnight, 
 Despite her chastity or innocence. 
 To be cuckolded, which yet is in suspense. 
 This is my counsel, and I ask no fee for't. 
 
 Cam. Come, you know not where my night-cap wrings 
 me. 87 
 
 Flam. Wear it a' th' old fashion; let your large ears 
 come through, it will be more easy. Nay, I will be bit- 
 ter: bar your wife of her entertainment: women are 
 more willingly and more gloriously chaste, when they 
 are least restrained of their liberty. It seems you would 
 be a fine capricious, mathematically jealous coxcomb ; take 
 the height of your own horns with a Jacob's staff, afore 
 they are up.*^ These politic inclosures for paltry mutton, 
 make more rebellion in the flesh, than allthe provocative 
 electuaries doctors have uttered since last jubilee." 
 
'jSCENEii] THE WHITE DEVIL 37 
 
 Cam. This doth not physic me. 98 
 
 j Flam. It seems you are jealous: I'll show you the 
 (error of it by a familiar example : I have seen a pair of 
 spectacles fashioned with such perspective art, that lay 
 {down but one twelve pence a' th' board, 'twill appear as 
 I if there were twenty; now should you wear a pair of 
 ; these spectacles, and see your wife tying her shoe, you 
 1 would imagine twenty hands were taking up of your 
 wife's clothes, and this would put you into a horrible 
 causeless fury. 107 
 
 Cam. The fault here, sir, is not in the eyesight. 
 
 Flam. True, but they that have the yellow jaundice 
 think all objects they look on to be yellow. Jealousy 
 is worse; her fits presenting to a man, like so many 
 bubbles in a bason of water, twenty several crabbed 
 faces, many times makes his own shadow his cuckold- 
 maker. 114 
 Enter Vittoria Corombona 
 
 See, she comes; what reason have you to be jealous 
 of this creature? what an ignorant ass or flattering 
 knave might he be counted, that should write sonnets 
 to her eyes, or call her brow the snow of Ida, or ivory 
 of Corinth ; or compare her hair to the blackbird's bill," 
 when 'tis like the blackbird's feather? this is all. Be 
 wise ; I will make you friends, and you shall go to bed 
 together. Marry, look you, it shall not be your seeking. 
 Do you stand upon that, by any means: walk you 
 aloof ; I would not have you seen in't. — Sister (my lord 
 attends you in the banquetting-house)° your husband 
 is wondrous discontented. 
 
 Vit. I did nothing to displease him ; I carved to him 
 at supper- time. 128 
 
 Flam. You need not have carved him, in faith ; (they 
 say he is a capon already. I must now seemingly fall 
 out with you.) Shall a gentleman so well descended as 
 Camillo (a lousy slave, that within this twenty years 
 
38 THE WHITE DEVIL [act 
 
 rode with the black guard in the duke's carriage, 'mongsl 
 spits and dripping-pans !) — 
 
 Cam. Now he begins to tickle her. ^^^ 
 
 Flam. An excellent scholar (one that hath a head filled 
 with calves' brains without any sage in them, come crouch- 
 ing in the hams to you for a night's lodging ? that hatb 
 an itch in's hams, which like the fire at the glass-house ' 
 hath not gone out this seven years) is he not a courtly 
 gentleman ? (when he wears white satin, one would take 
 him by his black muzzle to be no other creature than a 
 maggot) you are a goodly foil,"" I confess, well set out (but 
 covered with a false stone — yon counterfeit diamond.) 
 
 Cam. He will make her know what is in me. ^ is 
 
 Flam. Come, my lord attends you; (thou shalt go 
 to bed to my lord) . 
 
 Cam. Now he comes to't. 
 
 Flam. With a relish as curious as a vintner going to 
 taste new wine. (I am opening your case hard.) 150 
 
 [To Camillo. 
 
 Cam. A virtuous brother, o' my credit ! 
 
 Flam. He will give thee a ring with a philosopher's 
 stone^ in it. 
 
 Cam. Indeed, I am studying alchemy. 
 
 Flam. Thou shalt lie in a bed stuffed with turtle's 
 feathers; swoon in perfumed linen, like the fellow was 
 smothered in roses. So perfect shall be thy happiness, 
 that as men at sea think land, and trees, and ships, go 
 that way they go ; so both heaven and earth shall seem 
 to go your voyage. Shall't meet him; 'tis fixed, with 
 nails of diamonds to inevitable necessity. 161 
 
 Vit. [Aside.] How shall's rid him hence? 
 
 Flam. (I will put brize in's tail, set him gadding pres- 
 ently.) I have almost wrought her to it; I find her 
 coming: but, might I advise you now, for this night I 
 would not He with her, I would cross her humour to 
 make her more hum_ble. 
 
SCENE II] THE WHITE DEVIL 39 
 
 Cam. Shall I, shall I ? 
 
 Flam. It will show in you a supremacy of judgement. 
 
 Cam. True, and a mind differing from the tumultuary 
 opinion ; for, qucE negata, grata J^ 171 
 
 Flam. Right: you are the adamant shall draw her 
 to you, though you keep distance off. 
 
 Cam. A philosophical reason. 
 
 Flam. Walk by her a' th' nobleman's fashion, and 
 tell her you will lie with her at the end of the progress.'^ 
 
 Cam. Vittoria, I cannot be induced, or as a man 
 would say, incited 
 
 Vit. To do what, sir ? 
 
 Cam. To lie with you to-night. Your silkworm useth 
 to fast every third day, and the next following spins 
 the better. To-morrow at night, I am for you. 182 
 
 Vit. You'll spin a fair thread, trust to't. 
 
 Flam. But do you hear, I shall have you steaP to her 
 chamber about midnight. 
 
 Cam. Do you think so? why look you, brother, be- 
 cause you shall not think I'll gull you, take the key, 
 lock me into the chamber, and say you shall be sure of me. 
 
 Flam. In troth I will ; I'll be your jailer once. 
 But have you ne'er a false door ? 19° 
 
 Cam. A pox on't, as I am a Christian ! tell me to- 
 morrow how scurvily she takes my unkind parting. 
 
 Flam. I will. 
 
 Cam. Didst thou not mark the jest of the silkworm ? 
 Good-night ; in faith, I will use this trick often. 
 
 Flam. Do, do, do. [Exit Camillo. 
 
 So, now you are safe. Ha, ha, ha, thou intanglest thy- 
 self in thine own work like a silkworm. 
 
 Come, sister, darkness hides your blush. Women are 
 like curst dogs : '^ civility keeps them tied all day-time, 
 but they are let loose at midnight; then they do most 
 good, or most mischief. My lord, my lord ! 202 
 
40 THE WHITE DEVIL [act i 
 
 Enter Brachiano. Zanche brings out a carpet, spreads 
 it, and lays on it two fair cushions 
 
 Brack. Give credit :° I could wish time would stand 
 still, 
 And never end this interview, this hour ; 
 But all delight doth itself soon'st devour. 
 
 Enter Cornelia listening 
 
 Let me into your bosom, happy lady. 
 Pour out, instead of eloquence, my vows. 
 Loose me not, madam, for if you forego me, 
 I am lost eternally. 
 
 Vit. Sir, in the way of pity, 
 
 I wish you heart-whole. 
 
 Brack. You are a sweet physician. 210 
 
 Vit. Sure, sir, a loathed cruelty in ladies 
 Is as to doctors many funerals : 
 It takes away their credit. 
 
 Brack. Excellent creature ! 
 
 We call the cruel, fair ; what name for you 
 That are so merciful ? 
 
 Zan. See now they close. 
 
 Flam. Most happy union. 
 
 Cor. [Aside.] My fears are fall'n upon me : O my heart ! 
 My son the pander ! now I find our house 
 Sinking to ruin. Earthquakes leave behind, 
 Where they have tyrannized, iron, or lead, or stone ; 220 
 But woe to ruin, violent lust leaves none. 
 
 Brack. WTiat value is this jewel ? 
 
 Vit. 'Tis the ornament of a weak fortune. 
 
 Brack. In sooth, I'll have it ; nay, I will but change 
 My jewel for your jewel. 
 
 Flam. Excellent ; 
 
 His jewel for her jewel : — well put in, duke. 
 
 Brack, Nay, let me see you wear it. 
 
x:eneii] the WHITE DEVIL 4I 
 
 VU. Here, sir ? 
 
 Brack. Nay, lower, you shall wear my jewel lower. 
 
 Flam. That's better: she must wear his jewel lower. 
 
 VU. To pass away the time, I'll tell your grace 
 \ dream I had last night. 
 
 Brack. Most wishedly. 231 
 
 Vit. A foolish idle dream : 
 Mcthought I walk'd about the mid of night 
 [nto a churchyard, where a goodly yew-tree 
 Spread her large root in ground : under that yew, 
 A.S I sate sadly leaning on a grave, 
 Chequered with cross sticks," there came stealing in 
 Your duchess and my husband ; one of them 
 A pick-ax bore, th' other a rusty spade. 
 And in rough terms they 'gan to challenge me 240 
 
 About this yew. 
 
 Brack. That tree ? 
 
 VU. This harmless yew ; 
 
 They told me my intent was to root up 
 That well-grown yew, and plant i' the stead of it 
 A withered black-thorn ; and for that they vowed 
 To bury me alive. My husband straight 
 With pick-ax 'gan to dig, and your fell duchess 
 With shovel, like a fury, voided out 
 The earth and scattered bones : lord, how methought 
 I trembled ! and yet for all this terror 
 I could not pray. 
 
 Fla7n. No ; the devil was in your dream. 250 
 
 Vit. When to my rescue there arose, methought, 
 A whirlwind, which let fall a massy arm 
 From that strong plant ; 
 
 And both were struck dead by that sacred yew, 
 In that base shallow grave that was their due. 
 
 Flam. Excellent devil! She hath taught him in a 
 dream 
 To make away his duchess and her husband. 
 
 Brack. Sweetly shall I interpret this your dream. 
 
42 THE WHITE DEVIL [act 
 
 You are lodged within his arms who shall protect you 
 
 From all the fevers of a jealous husband, 26< 
 
 From the poor envy of our phlegmatic duchess. 
 
 I'll seat you above law, and above scandal ; 
 
 Give to your thoughts the invention of delight, 
 
 And the fruition ; nor shall government 
 
 Divide me from you longer, than a care 
 
 To keep you great : you shall to me at once, 
 
 Be dukedom, health, wife, children, friends, and all. 
 
 Cor. Woe to Ught hearts, they still fore-run our fall \i 
 
 Flam. What fury raised thee up ? away, away. | 
 
 [Exit Zanche I 
 
 Cor. What make you here, my lord, this dead oil 
 
 night? . 27c; j 
 
 Never dropped mildew on a flower here till now. | 
 
 Flam. I pray, will you go to bed then, f 
 
 Lest you be blasted ? j 
 
 Cor. O that this fair garden 
 
 Had with all poisoned herbs of Thessaiy 
 At first been planted ; made a nursery 
 For witchcraft, rather than a burial plot 
 For both your honours ! 
 
 Vit. Dearest mother, hear me. 
 
 Cor. O, thou dost make my brow bend to the earth, 
 Sooner than nature I See the curse of children ! 
 In life they keep us frequently in tears ; 28c 
 
 And in the cold grave leave us in pale fears. ■ 
 
 Brack. Come, come, I will not hear you. 
 
 Vit. Dear my lord — 
 
 Cor. Where is thy duchess now, adulterous duke? 
 Thou little dream'st this night she's come to Rome. 
 
 Flam. How ! come to Rome ! 
 
 Vit. The duchess ! 
 
 Brack. She had been better — 
 
 Cor. The lives of princes should like dials move, 
 Whose regular example is so strong. 
 They make the times by them go right, or wrong. 
 
iCENEii] THE WHITE DEVIL 43 
 
 Flam. So, Have you done ? 
 
 Cor. Unfortunate Camillo ! 
 
 Vit. I do protest, if any chaste denial, 290 
 
 [f any thing but blood could have allayed 
 rlis long suit to me — 
 
 Cor. I will join with thee, 
 
 To the most woeful end e'er mother kneeled : 
 [f thou dishonour thus thy husband's bed. 
 Be thy life short as are the funeral tears 
 [n great men's — 
 
 Brack. Fie, fie, the woman's mad. 
 
 Cor. Be thy act Judas-like; betray in kissing: 
 May'st thou be envied during his short breath, 
 And pitied Hke a wretch after his death ! 
 
 Vit. O me accursed ! [Exit. 
 
 Flam. Are you out of your wits ? My lord, 3°^ 
 
 I'll fetch her back again. 
 
 Brack. No, I'll to bed : 
 
 Send doctor Julio to me presently. 
 Uncharitable woman! thy rash tongue 
 Hath raised a fearful and prodigious storm : 
 Be thou the cause of all ensuing harm. [Exit. 
 
 Flam. Now, you that stand so much upon your 
 honour. 
 Is this a fitting time a' night, think you, 
 To send a duke home without e'er a man ? 
 I would fain know where lies the mass of wealth 
 Which you have hoarded for my maintenance, 31° 
 
 That I may bear my beard out of the level 
 Of my lord's stirrup.'^ 
 
 Cor. What ! because we are poor 
 
 Shall we be vicious ? 
 
 Flam. Pray, what means have you 
 
 To keep me from the galleys, or the gallows ? 
 My father proved himself a gentleman, 
 Sold all's land, and, like a fortunate fellow. 
 Died ere the money was spent. You brought me up 
 
44 THE WHITE DEVIL [act 
 
 At Padua, I confess, where I protest, 
 
 For want of means — the university judge me — 
 
 I have been fain to heel my tutor's stockings, 3^* 
 
 At least seven years ; conspiring with a beard. 
 
 Made me a graduate ; ^ then to this duke's service. 
 
 I visited the court, whence I returned 
 
 More courteous, more lecherous by far, 
 
 But not a suit the richer : and shall I, 
 
 Having a path so open, and so free 
 
 To my preferment, still retain your milk 
 
 In my pale forehead ? no, this face of mine 
 
 I'll arm, and fortify with lusty wine, 
 
 'Gainst shame and blushing. 33< 
 
 Cor. O, that I ne'er had borne thee ! 
 
 Flam. So would I ; 
 
 I would the common'st courtezan in Rome 
 Had been my mother, rather than thyself. 
 Nature is very pitiful to whores. 
 To give them but few children, yet those children 
 Plurality of fathers ; they are sure 
 They shall not want. Go, go. 
 Complain unto my great lord cardinal ; 
 It may be he will justify the act. 
 
 Lycurgus wondered much, men would provide 34< 
 
 Good stalHons for their mares, and yet would suffer 
 Their fair wives to be barren. 
 
 Cor. Misery of miseries ! [Exit 
 
 Flam. The duchess come to court ! I like not that. 
 We are engaged to mischief, and must on ; 
 As rivers to find out the ocean 
 Flow with crook bendings beneath forced banks, 
 Or as we see, to aspire some mountain's top, 
 The way ascends not straight, but imitates 
 The subtle foldings of a winter's snake, 35- 
 
 So who knows policy and her true aspect, 
 Shall find her ways winding and indirect. [Exit 
 
ACT THE SECOND 
 
 ^ Scene I° 
 
 ^nter Francisco de Medicis, Cardinal Monticelso, 
 Marcello, Isabella, Young Giovanni, with little 
 Jaques the Moor 
 
 Fran. Have you not seen your husband since you 
 arrived ? 
 
 Isah. Not yet, sir. 
 
 p^f^yi^ Surely he is wondrous kind ; 
 
 [f I had such a dove-house as Camillo's, 
 [ would set fire on't were't but to destroy 
 The pole-cats that haunt to it — My sweet cousin 1 
 
 Giov. Lord uncle, you did promise me a horse, 
 And armour. 
 
 Fran. That I did, my pretty cousm. 
 
 Marcello, see it fitted. 
 J Mar. My lord, the duke IS here. 
 
 Fran. Sister, away! 
 You must not yet be seen. 
 
 Ij j^^^ I do beseech you i° 
 
 JEntreat him mildly; let not your rough tongue 
 tSet us at louder variance ; all my wrongs "^ 
 : Are freely pardoned ; and I do not doubt, 
 •As men, to try the precious unicorn's horn, 
 I Make of the powder a preservative circle, 
 ! And in it put a spider ,° so these arms 
 ij' Shall charm his poison, force it to obeying, 
 ' And keep him chaste from an infected straying." 
 i Fran. I wish it may. Be gone : 'void the chamber. 
 ' [Exeunt all hut Monticelso and Francisco. 
 
 45 
 
46 THE WHITE DEVIL [act 
 
 Enter Brachiano and Flamineo , 
 
 You are welcome ; will you sit ? — I pray, my lord, ^ 
 Be you my orator, my heart's too full ; i 
 
 I'll second you anon. 
 
 Mont. Ere I begin, i 
 
 Let me entreat your grace forego all passion, j 
 
 Which may be raised by my free discourse. ' 
 
 Brack. As silent as i' th' church : you may proceed. ! 
 
 Mont. It is a wonder to your noble friends, '■ 
 
 That you, having as 'twere entered the world i' 
 
 With a free sceptre in your able hand, 
 And having to th' use of nature, well applied. 
 High gifts of learning, should in your prime age ^i; 
 
 Neglect your awful throne for the soft down i 
 
 Of an insatiate bed. O my lord, I 
 
 The drunkard after all his lavish cups ; 
 
 Is dry, and then is sober ! so at length, 
 When you awake from this lascivious dream. 
 Repentance then will follow, like the sting ' 
 
 Placed in the adder's tail. Wretched are princes 
 When fortune blasteth but a petty flower ' 
 
 Of their unwieldly crowns, or ravisheth 
 But one pearl from their sceptre ; but alas ! 4 
 
 When they to wilful shipwreck lose good fame, 
 All princely titles perish with their name. 
 
 Brack. You have said, my lord. 
 
 Mont. Enough to give you tast 
 
 How far I am from flattering your greatness. 
 
 Brack. Now, you that are his second, what say you, 
 Do not like young hawks fetch a course about ; " 
 Your game flies fair, and for you. 
 
 Fran. Do not fear it : 
 
 I'll answer you in your own hawking phrase. 
 Some eagles that should gaze upon the sun 
 Seldom soar high, but take their lustful ease ; 
 Since they from dunghill birds their prey can seize. 
 
SCENE I] THE WHITE DEVIL 47 
 
 You know Vittoria ? 
 
 Brack. Yes. 
 
 Fran. You shift your shirt there, 
 
 When you retire from tennis ? 
 
 Brack. Happily. 
 
 Fran. Her husband is the lord of a poor fortune, 
 Yet she wears cloth of tissue.'^ 
 
 Brack. What of this ? 
 
 Will you urge that, my good lord cardinal, 
 As part of her confession at next shrift. 
 And know from whence it sails ? 
 
 Frayi. She is your strumpet. 
 
 Brack. Uncivil sir, there's hemlock in thy breath. 
 And that black slander. Were she a whore of mine, 60 
 All thy loud cannons, and thy borrowed Switzers,'^ 
 Thy galleys, nor thy sworn confederates, 
 Durst not supplant her. 
 
 Fran. Let's not talk on thunder. 
 
 Thou hast a wife, our sister : would I had given 
 Both her white hands to death, bound and locked fast 
 In her last winding-sheet, when I gave thee 
 But one! 
 
 Brack. Thou had'st given a soul to God then. 
 
 Fran. True : 
 
 j Thy ghostly father ,° with all his absolution. 
 Shall ne'er do so by thee. 
 I Brack. Spit thy poison. 
 
 Fran. I shall not need; lust carries her sharp 
 whip 70 
 
 At her own girdle. Look to't, for our anger 
 I Is making thunderbolts. 
 , Brack. Thunder ! in faith, 
 
 i They are but crackers. 
 
 I. Fran. We'll end this with the cannon. 
 
 Brack. Thou'lt get nought by it, but iron in thy 
 , wounds, 
 
 ! And gunpowder in thy nostrils. 
 
48 THE WHITE DEVIL [act i 
 
 Fran. Better that 
 
 Than change perfumes for plasters." 
 
 Brack. Pity on thee ! 
 
 'Twere good you'd show your slaves, or men condemned 
 Your new-ploughed forehead-defiance ! " and I'll meet 
 
 thee, 
 Even in a thicket of thy ablest men. 
 
 Mont. My lords, you shall not word it any further 
 Without a milder limit. 
 
 Fran. Willingly. si 
 
 Brack. Have you proclaimed a triumph, that you bail 
 A lion thus ? 
 
 Mont. My lord ! 
 
 Brack. I am tame, I am tame, sir. 
 
 Fran. We send unto the duke for conference 
 'Bout levies 'gainst the pirates ; my lord duke 
 Is not at home : we come ourself in person ; 
 Still my lord duke is busied. But, we fear, 
 When Tiber to each prowling passenger 
 Discovers flocks of wild ducks, then, my lord — 
 'Bout moulting time, I mean — we shall be certain 90 
 To find you sure enough, and speak with you. 
 
 Brack. Ha ! 
 
 Fran. A mere tale of a tub : ° my words are 
 idle. 
 But to express the sonnet by natural reason," 
 
 Enter Giovanni 
 
 When stags grow melancholic ° you'll find the season. 
 Mont. No more, my lord ; here comes a champion 
 Shall end the difference between you both ; 
 Your son, the prince Giovanni. See, my lords. 
 What hopes you store in him ; this is a casket 
 For both your crowns, and should be held like dear. 
 Now is he apt for knowledge ; therefore know 
 It is a more direct and even way, 
 
.CENEi] THE WHITE DEVIL 49 
 
 To train to virtue those of princely blood, 
 3y examples than by precepts: if by examples, 
 iVhom should he rather strive to imitate 
 '^ Than his own father ? be his pattern then, 
 ^ Leave him a stock of virtue that may last, 
 Should fortune rend his sails, and split his mast. 
 
 Brack. Your hand, boy : growing to a soldier ? 
 
 Giov. Give me a pike. 
 
 Fran. What, practising your pike so young, fair 
 cousin ? 
 
 Giov. Suppose me one of Homer's frogs," my lord, no 
 Tossing my bulrush thus. Pray, sir, tell me, 
 Might not a child of good discretion 
 Be leader to an army ? 
 
 Fran. Yes, cousin, a young prince 
 
 Of good discretion might. 
 
 Giov. Say you so ? 
 
 Indeed, I have heard 'tis fit a general 
 Should not endanger his own person oft ; 
 So that he make a noise when he's a'horseback, 
 Like a Danske drummer, — O, 'tis excellent ! — 
 He need not fight ! methinks his horse as well 
 Might lead an army for him. If I live, 120 
 
 I'll charge the French foe in the very front 
 Of all my troops, the foremost man. 
 
 Fran. What ! what ! 
 
 Giov. And will not bid my soldiers up, and follow,'^ 
 But bid them follow me. 
 
 Brack. Forward lap- wing ! 
 
 He flies with the shell on's head. 
 
 Fran. Pretty cousin ! 
 
 Giov. The first year, uncle, that I go to war. 
 All prisoners that I take, I will set free. 
 Without their ransom. 
 
 Fran. Ha ! without their ransom ! 
 
 How then will you reward your soldiers, 
 That took those prisoners for you ? 
 
50 THE WHITE DEVIL [act 
 
 Giov. Thus, my lord : i; 
 
 I'll marry them to all the wealthy widows 
 That fall that year." 
 
 Fran. Why then, the next year following 
 
 You'll have no men to go with you to war. 
 
 Giov. Why then I'll press ° the women to the war. 
 And then the men will follow. 
 
 Mont. Witty prince ! 
 
 Fran. See, a good habit makes a child a man, 
 Whereas a bad one makes a man a beast. 
 Come, you and I are friends. 
 
 Brack. Most wishedly : 
 
 Like bones which, broke in sunder, and well set, 
 Knit the more strongly. 
 
 Fran. Call Camillo hither. — 
 
 [Exit Servant 
 You have received the rumour, how Count Lodowick 
 Is turned a pirate ? 
 
 Brack Yes. 
 
 Fran. We are now preparing 
 
 Some ships to fetch him in. Behold your duchess. 
 We now will leave you, and expect from you 
 Nothing but kind entreaty. 
 
 Brack. You have charmed me.° 
 
 [Exeunt Francisco, Monticelso, and Giovanni 
 
 Enter Isabella 
 You are in health, we see. 
 
 I sab. And above health. 
 
 To see my lord well. 
 
 Brack. So : " I wonder much 
 
 What amorous whirlwind hurried you to Rome. 
 
 Isab. Devotion, my lord. 
 
 Brack. Devotion ! 
 
 Is your soul charged with any grievous sin? 150 
 
 Isab. 'Tis burdened with too many ; and I think 
 The oftener that we cast our reckonings up, 
 
tCENEi] THE WHITE DEVIL 5 1 
 
 Dur sleeps will be the sounder. 
 
 Brack. Take your chamber. 
 
 Isah. Nay, my dear lord, I will not have you angry ! 
 i|Doth not my absence from you, now two months, 
 .Vlerit one kiss ? 
 
 Brack. I do not use to kiss : 
 
 [f that will dispossess your jealousy, 
 
 11 swear it to you. 
 
 I sab. O my loved lord, 
 
 [ do not come to chide : my jealousy ! 
 [ am to learn what that ItaUan means.^ i6o 
 
 iTou are as welcome to these longing arms, 
 \s I to you a virgin."^ 
 
 Brack. O, your breath ! 
 
 3ut upon sweetmeats and continued physic, 
 The plague is in them ! 
 
 Isab. You have oft, for these two lips, 
 
 Neglected cassia, or the natural sweets 
 Of the spring- violet : they are not yet much withered. 
 My lord, I should be merry : these your frowns 
 Show in a helmet lovely ; but on me. 
 In such a peaceful interview, methinks 
 They are too too roughly knit. 
 
 Brack. O dissemblance ! 170 
 
 Do you bandy factions 'gainst me ? have you learnt 
 The trick of impudent baseness, to complain 
 Unto your kindred ? 
 
 Isah. Never, my dear lord. 
 
 Brack. Must I be hunted out ? or was't your trick 
 To meet some amorous gallant here in Rome, 
 That must supply our discontinuance ? 
 
 Isah. I pray, sir, burst my heart ; and in my death 
 Turn to your ancient pity, though not love. 
 
 Brack. Because your brother is the corpulent duke. 
 That is, the great duke, 'sdeath, I shall not, shortly, iSo 
 Racket away five hundred crowns at tennis. 
 But it shall rest upon record ! I scorn him 
 
52 THE WHITE DEVIL [act j] 
 
 Like a shaved Polack : "" all his reverend wit 
 Lies in his wardrobe ; he's a discreet fellow, 
 When he's made up in his robes of state. 
 Your brother, the great duke, because h'as galleys. 
 And now and then ransacks a Turkish fly-boat, 
 (Now all the helKsh furies take his soul !) 
 First made this match : accursed be the priest 
 That sang the wedding-mass, and even my issue ! 19.1 
 I sab. O, too too far you have cursed ! 
 ^rach. Your hand I'll kiss 
 
 This is the latest ceremony of my love. 
 Henceforth I'll never lie with thee ; by this. 
 This wedding-ring, I'll ne'er more lie with thee ! 
 And this divorce shall be as truly kept. 
 As if the judge had doomed it. Fare you well : 
 Our sleeps are severed. 
 
 I sab. Forbid it, the sweet union 
 
 Of all things blessed ! why, the saints in heaven 
 Will knit their brows at that. 
 
 Brack. Let not thy love 
 
 Make thee an unbeliever ; this my vow 20c 
 
 Shall never, on my soul, be satisfied 
 With my repentance : let thy brother rage 
 Beyond a horrid tempest, or sea-fight, 
 My vow is fixed. 
 
 Isab. O my winding-sheet ! 
 
 Now shall I need thee shortly. Dear my lord, 
 Let me hear once more, what I would not hear : 
 Never ? 
 
 Brack. Never. 
 
 Isab. O my unkind lord ! may your sins find mercy. 
 As I upon a woeful widowed bed 
 
 Shall pray for you, if not to turn your eyes 210 
 
 Upon your wretched wife and hopeful son. 
 Yet that in time you'll fix them upon heaven ! 
 
 Brack. No more ; go, go, complain to the great duke.i 
 
 Isab. No, my dear lord ; you shall have present witness 
 
CENEi] THE WHITE DEVIL 53 
 
 low I'll work peace between you. I will make 
 Slyself the author of your cursed vow ; 
 have some cause to do it, you have none. 
 Jonceal it, I beseech you, for the weal 
 3f both your dukedoms, that you wrought the means 
 3f such a separation : let the fault 220 
 
 Remain with my supposed jealousy, 
 \nd think with what a piteous and rent heart 
 I shall perform this sad ensuing part. 
 
 Ew/er Francisco, Flamineo, Monticelso, and Marcello 
 
 Brack, Well, take your course. —My honourable 
 brother 1 
 
 Fran. Sister ! — This is not well, my lord. — Why, 
 sister 1 — 
 She merits not this welcome. 
 
 Brack. Welcome, say 1 
 
 She hath given me a sharp welcome. 
 
 Fran. Are you foolish ? 
 
 Come, dry your tears : is this a modest course 
 To better what is naught, to rail and weep? 
 Grow to a reconcilement, or, by Heaven, 230 
 
 I'll ne'er more deal between you. 
 
 j^^^ Sir, you shall not ; 
 
 No, though Vittoria, upon that condition, 
 Would become honest. 
 
 Pj.^^^ Was your husband loud 
 
 Since we departed ? 
 
 Isab. By my life, sir, no, 
 
 I swear by that I do not care to lose. 
 Are all these ruins of my former beauty 
 Laid out for a whore's triumph ? 
 
 Fran. Do you hear? 
 
 Look upon other women, with what patience 
 They suffer these slight wrongs, and with what justice 
 They study to requite them : take that course. 
 
 240 
 
54 THE WHITE DEVIL [act] 
 
 Isab. O that I were a man, or that I had power 
 To execute my apprehended wishes I 
 I would whip some with scorpions. 
 
 Fran. What ! turned fury 
 
 Isab. To dig the strumpet's eyes out ; let her lie 
 Some twenty months a dying ; to cut off 
 Her nose and lips, pull out her rotten teeth ; 
 Preserve her flesh Uke mummia, for trophies 
 Of my just anger ! Hell, to my affliction, 
 Is mere snow-water. By your favour, sir ; — 
 Brother, draw near, and my lord cardinal ; — 
 Sir, let me borrow of you but one kiss ; 
 Henceforth I'U never he with you, by this, 
 This wedding-ring. 
 
 Fran. How, ne'er more lie with him ! 
 
 Isah. And this divorce shall be as truly kept 
 As if in thronged court a thousand ears 
 Had heard it, and a thousand lawyers' hands 
 Sealed to the separation. 
 
 Brack. Ne'er lie with me ! 
 
 Isab. Let not my former dotag 
 
 Make thee an unbeliever ; this my vow 
 Shall never, on my soul, be satisfied 26 
 
 With my repentance : manet alta mente repostum.^ 
 
 Fran. Now, by my birth, you are a foolish, mad, | 
 And jealous woman. ' 
 
 Brack. You see 'tis not my seeking. 
 
 Fran. Was this your circle of pure unicorn's horn. 
 You said should charm your lord ? now horns upon thee 
 For jealousy deserves them ! Keep your vow 
 And take your chamber. 
 
 Isab. No, sir, I'll presently to Padua 
 
 I will not stay a minute. 
 
 Mont. O good madam ! 
 
 Brack. 'Twere best to let her have her humour ; 
 Some half day's journey will bring down her stomach," 
 And then she'll turn in post. 
 
XEi] THE WHITE DEVIL 55 
 
 Fran. To see her come 271 
 
 To my lord cardinal for a dispensation 
 )f her rash vow, will beget excellent laughter. 
 
 I sab. Unkindness, do thy office ; poor heart, break : 
 Those are the killing griefs, which dare not speak. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Mar. Camillo's come, my lord. 
 
 Enter Camillo 
 
 Fran. Where's the commission ? 
 
 ' Mar. 'Tis here. 
 
 I Fran. Give me the signet. 
 
 ' [Exeunt all but Brachiano and Flamineo. 
 
 Flam. My lord, do you mark their whispering? I 
 will compound a medicine, out of their two heads, 
 stronger than garlic, deadlier than stibium : the can- 
 tharides, which are scarce seen to stick upon the flesh, 
 when they work to the heart, shall not do it with more 
 silence or invisible cunning. 283 
 
 P^rach. About the murder ? 
 
 Enter Doctor 
 
 Flam. They are sending him to Naples, but I'll send 
 him to Candy." Here's another property too.° 
 
 Brack. O, the doctor ! ^ 
 
 Flam. A poor quacksalving knave, my lord ; one 
 that should have been lashed for's lechery, but that 
 he confessed a judgement, had an execution laid upon 
 him, and so put the whip to a non plus."' 291 
 
 Doc. And was cozened, my lord, by an arranter knave 
 than myself, and made pay all the colourable execution. 
 
 Flam. He will shoot pills into a man's guts shall 
 make them have more ventages than a cornet or a lam- 
 prey ; he will poison a kiss ; and was once minded, for 
 his masterpiece, because Ireland breeds no poison, to 
 have prepared a deadly vapour in a Spaniard's fart, that 
 should have poisoned all DubUn. 
 
5^ THE WHITE DEVIL 
 
 [act I 
 
 ' 30 
 
 Brack. O Saint Anthony's fire 
 
 Doc. Your secretary is merry, my lord 
 
 Flam. O thou cursed antipathy to nature ! Look, hit 
 eye's bloodshed, Kke a needle a chirurgeon stitcheth & 
 wound with. Let me embrace thee, t©ad, and love thee 
 O thou abominable, loathsome gargarism, that wil 
 fetch up lungs, lights, heart, and Hver, by scruples ! 
 
 Brack. No more. —I must employ thee, honest doctor 
 You must to Padua, and by the way, 
 Use some of your skill for us. 
 
 ^^^- Sir, I shall. 
 
 Brack. But for Camillo ? 3^, 
 
 Flam. He dies this night, by such a politic strain, 
 Men shall suppose him by's own engine slain. 
 But for your duchess' death — 
 
 ^^^' I'll make her sure. 
 
 Brack. Small mischiefs are by greater made secure. 
 
 Flam. Remember this, you slave; when knaves 
 come to preferment, they rise as gallowses are raised 
 i' th' Low Countries, one upon another's shoulders. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Monticelso, Camillo, Francisco, Marcello 
 
 Mont. Here is an emblem, nephew, pray peruse it: 
 'Twas thrown in at your window. 
 
 ^^^- At my window ! 
 
 Here is a stag, my lord, hath shed his horns, 320 
 
 x\nd, for the loss of them, the poor beast weeps ; 
 The word, Inopem me copia fecit. 
 
 Mont. That is, 
 
 Plenty of horns hath made him poor of horns. 
 
 Cam. What should this mean ? 
 
 Mo^^' I'll tell you; 'tis given out 
 
 You are a cuckold. 
 
 Cam. Is it given out so ? 
 
 I had rather such report as that, my lord, 
 
;CENEI] THE WHITE DEVIL 57 
 
 should keep within doors. 
 
 Fran, Have you any children ? 
 
 Cam. None, my lord. 
 
 Fran. You are the happier : 
 
 ['11 tell you a tale. 
 
 Cam. Pray, my lord. 
 
 Fran. An old tale. 
 
 Upon a time Phoebus, the god of Hght, zzo 
 
 3r him we call the Sun, would need be married : 
 The gods gave their consent, and Mercury 
 Was sent to voice it to the general world. 
 But what a piteous cry there straight arose 
 Amongst smiths and felt-makers, brewers and cooks, 
 Reapers and butter-women, amongst fishmongers, 
 And thousand other trades, which are annoyed 
 By his excessive heat ! 'twas lamentable. 
 They came to Jupiter all in a sweat. 
 And do forbid the bans. A great fat cook 340 
 
 Was made their speaker, who entreats of Jove 
 That Phoebus might be gelded ; for if "now. 
 When there was but one sun, so many men 
 Were like to perish by his violent heat, 
 What should they do if he were married, 
 And should beget more, and those children 
 Make fireworks like their father ? So say I ; 
 Only I will apply it to your wife ; 
 Her issue, should not providence prevent it. 
 Would make both nature, time, and man repent it. 350 
 
 Mont. Look you, cousin, 
 Go, change the air, for shame ; see if your absence 
 Will blast your cornucopia.^ Marcello 
 Is chosen with you joint commissioner, 
 For the reUeving our Italian coast 
 From pirates. 
 
 Mar. I am much honoured in't. 
 
 Cam. But, sir. 
 
 Ere I return, the stag's horns may be sprouted 
 
58 THE WHITE DEVIL [act i 
 
 Greater than those are shed. 
 
 Mont. Do not fear it; 
 
 I'll be your ranger. 
 
 Cam. You must watch i'th' nights ; 
 
 Then's the most danger. 
 
 Fran. Farewell, good Marcello : 36' 
 
 All the best fortunes of a soldier's wish 
 Bring you a-shipboard. 
 
 Cam. Were I not best, now I am turned soldier, 
 Ere that I leave my wife, sell all she hath, 
 And then take leave of her ? 
 
 Mont. I expect good from you, 
 
 Your parting is so merry. 
 
 Cam. Merry, my lord ! a' th' captain's humour right 
 I am resolved to be drunk this night. 
 
 [Exeunt Marcello and Camillc 
 
 Fran. So, 'twas well fitted ; now shall we discern 
 How his wished absence will give violent way 37 
 
 To Duke Brachiano's lust. 
 
 Mont. Why, that was it ; 
 
 To what scorned purpose else should we make choice 
 Of him for a sea-captain ? and, besides, 
 Count Lodowick, which was rumoured for a pirate, 
 Is now in Padua. 
 
 Fran. Is't true ? I. 
 
 Mont. Most certain. \ 
 
 I have letters from him, which are suppliant 
 To work his quick repeal from banishment : 
 He means to address himself for pension 
 Unto our sister duchess. 
 
 Fran. O, 'twas well 
 
 We shall not want his absence past six days : 3^ 
 
 I fain would have the Duke Brachiano run 
 Into notorious scandal ; for there's nought 
 In such cursed dotage, to repair his name. 
 Only the deep sense of some deathless shame. 
 Mont. It may be objected, I am dishonourable 
 
:enei] the white DEVIL 59 
 
 'o play thus with my kinsman ; but I answer, 
 'or my revenge I'd stake a brother's life, 
 'hat, being wronged, durst not avenge himself. 
 
 Fran. Come, to observe this strumpet. 
 
 Mont. Curse of greatness ! 
 
 •ure he'll not leave her ? 
 
 Fran. There's small pity in't : 39° 
 
 ike mistletoe on sear elms spent by weather, 
 ..et him cleave to her, and both rot together. [Exeunt, 
 
 
ACT THE THIRD 
 Scene I" 
 
 Enter Brachiano, with one in the habit of a conjurer 
 
 Brach. Now, sir, I claim your promise : 'tis dead mic 
 night. 
 The time prefixed to show me, by your art, 
 How the intended murder of Camillo, 
 And our loathed duchess, grow to action. I 
 
 Con. You have won me, by your bounty, to a deed 
 I do not often practise. Some there are. 
 Which by sophistic tricks, aspire that name 
 Which I would gladly lose, of necromancer ; 
 As some that use to juggle upon cards. 
 Seeming to conjure, when indeed they cheat ; i 
 
 Others that raise up their confederate spirits 
 'Bout windmills, and endanger their own necks 
 For making of a squib ; and some there are 
 Will keep a curtal "" to show juggHng tricks, 
 And give out 'tis a spirit ; besides these. 
 Such a whob ream of almanac-makers, figure-flingers. 
 Fellows, indeed, that only live by stealth. 
 Since they do merely lie about stol'n goods. 
 They'd make men think the devil were fast and loose. 
 With speaking fustian Latin. Pray, sit down ; 2^ 
 
 Put on this night-cap, sir, 'tis charmed; "and now 
 I'll show you, by my strong commanding art, 
 The circumstance that breaks your duchess' heart. 
 
 A Dumb Show 
 
 Enter suspiciously Julio and Christophero : they draw 
 
 a curtain where Brachiano's picture is; they put on 
 
 spectacles of glass, which cover their eyes and noses, and 
 
 60 
 
SCENE ij THE WHITE DEVIL 6l 
 
 then burn perfumes afore the picture, and wash the lips 
 of the picture; that done, quenching the fire, and putting 
 of their spectacles, they depart laughing. 
 
 Enter Isabella in her nightgown, as to bed-ward, with 
 lights after her, Count Lodovico, Giovanni, Gasparo, 
 Antonelli, and others waiting on her: she kneels down 
 as to prayers, then draws the curtain of the picture, 
 does three reverences to it, and kisses it thrice; she faints, 
 and will not suffer them to come near it; dies; sorrow 
 expressed in Giovanni, and in Count Lodovico. She's 
 conveyed out solemnly. 
 
 Brach. Excellent ! then she's dead. 
 
 Con. * She's poisoned 
 
 By the fumed picture. 'Twas her custom nightly, 
 Before she went to bed, to go and visit 
 Your picture, and to feed her eyes and lips 
 On the dead shadow : doctor Julio, 
 Observing this, infects it with an oil, 
 And other poisoned stuff, which presently 3° 
 
 Did suffocate her spirits. 
 
 Brach. Methought I saw 
 
 Count Lodowick there. 
 
 Con. He was ; and by my art, 
 
 I find he did most passionately dote 
 Upon your duchess. Now turn another way. 
 And view Camillo's far more politic fate. 
 Strike louder, music, from this charmed ground, 
 To yield, as fits the act, a tragic sound ! 
 
 The Second Dumb Show 
 
 Enter Flamineo, Marcello, Camillo, with four more, 
 as captains: they drink healths, and dance; a vaulting 
 horse is brought into the room ; Marcello and two more 
 whispered out of the room, while Flamineo and Camillo 
 
62 THE WHITE DEVIL [act iii 
 
 I 
 
 strip themselves into their shirts, as to vault ; they com- < 
 plimentwho shall begin ;^ as Camillo ^5 about to vault, 
 Flamineo pitcheth him upon his neck, and, with the 
 help of the rest, writhes his neck about; seems to see if 
 it be broke, and lays him folded double, as Hwere, under 
 the horse; makes shows to call for help ; Marcello corner 
 in, laments; sends for the cardinal and duke, who come 
 forth with armed men; wonder at the act; commafid 
 the body to be carried home; apprehend Flamineo, 
 Marcello, and the rest, and go, as Hwere, to apprehend I 
 
 VlTTORIA. ™ 
 
 Brach. 'Twas quaintly done ; but yet each circumstance 
 1 taste not fully. 
 
 Con. O, 'twas most apparent ! 
 
 You saw them enter, charged with their deep healths 4o \ 
 To their bon voyage ; and, to second that, 
 Flamineo calls to have a vaulting horse 
 Maintain their sport ; the virtuous Marcello 
 Is innocently plotted forth the room ; ° 
 Whilst your eye saw the rest, and can inform you 
 The engine of all." 
 
 Brach. It seems Marcello and Flamineo 
 
 Are both committed. 
 
 Con. Yes, you saw them guarded ; 
 
 And now they are come with purpose to apprehend 
 Your mistress, fair Vittoria. We are now 
 Beneath her roof : 'twere fit we instantly 50 
 
 Make out by some back postern. 
 
 Brach. Noble friend, 
 
 You bind me ever to you : this shall stand ° 
 As the firm seal annexed to my hand ; 
 It shall enforce a payment. 
 
 Con. Sir, I thank you. 
 
 [Exit Brachiano| 
 Both flowers and weeds spring, when the sun is warm. 
 And great men do great good, or else great harm. [Exit\ 
 
SCENE II] THE WHITE DEVIL 63 
 
 Scene 11° 
 
 Enter Francisco de Medicis, and Monticelso, their 
 Chancellor and Register 
 
 Fran. You have dealt discreetly, to obtain the pres- 
 ence 
 Of all the grave lieger ambassadors 
 To hear Vittoria's trial. 
 
 Mont. 'Twas not ill ; 
 
 For, sir, you know we have nought but circumstances 
 To charge her with, about her husband's death : 
 Their approbation, '^ therefore, to the proofs 
 Of her black lust shall make her infamous 
 To all our neighbouring kingdoms. I wonder 
 If Brachiano will be here ? 
 
 Fran. O fie ! 
 
 'Twere impudence too palpable. [Exeunt. 10 
 
 Enter Flamineo and Marcello guarded, and 
 a Lawyer 
 
 Lawyer. What, are you in by the week ? ° so, I will try 
 now whether thy wit be close prisoner. Methinks none 
 should sit upon thy sister, ° but old whore-masters. 
 
 Flam. Or cuckolds; for your cuckold is your most 
 terrible tickler of lechery. Whore-masters would serve, 
 for none are judges at tilting, but those that have been 
 old tilters. 
 
 Lawyer. My lord duke and she have been very private. 
 
 Flam. You are a dull ass ; 'tis threatened they have 
 been very public. 20 
 
 Lawyer. If it can be proved they have but kissed one 
 another — 
 
 Flam. What then ? 
 
 Lawyer. My lord cardinal will ferret them. 
 
 Flam. A cardinal, I hope, will not catch conies.*^ 
 
64 THE WHITE DEVIL [act i^ 
 
 Lawyer. For to sow' kisses (mark what I say), to so 
 kisses is to reap lechery ; and, I am sure, a woman tha|l 
 will endure kissing is half won. 
 
 Flam. True, her upper part, by that rule ; if you wil 
 win her nether part too, you know what follows. z\ 
 
 Lawyer. Hark ! the ambassadors are 'lighted. 
 
 Flarn. I do put on this feigned garb of mirth, 
 To gull suspicion. 
 
 Mar. O my unfortunate sister ! 
 
 I would my dagger-point had cleft her heart 
 When she first saw Brachiano : you, 'tis said. 
 Were made his engine, and his stalking-horse, 
 To undo my sister. 
 
 Flam. I made a kind of path 
 
 To her, and mine own preferment. 
 
 Mar. Your ruin. 
 
 Flam. Hum ! thou art a soldier, 
 Followest the great duke, feed'st his victories. 
 As witches do their serviceable spirits, 
 Even with thy prodigal blood : what hast got ? 
 But, Hke the wealth of captains, a poor handful, 
 Which in thy palm thou bear'st, as men hold water ; 
 Seeking to gripe it fast, the frail reward 
 Steals through thy fingers. 
 
 Mar. Sir ! 
 
 Flam. Thou hast scarce maintenance 
 
 To keep thee in fresh shamois. 
 
 Mar. Brother ! 
 
 Flam. Hear me : 
 
 And thus, when we have even poured ourselves 
 Into great fights, for their ambition. 
 Or idle spleen, how shall we find reward ? 
 But as we seldom find the mistletoe 
 Sacred to physic, or the builder oak, ° 
 Without a mandrake by it ; so in our quest of gain, 
 Alas, the poorest of their forced dislikes 
 At a limb proffers, but at heart it strikes ! 
 
SCENE II] THE WHITE DEVIL 65 
 
 This is lamented doctrine. 
 
 Mar. Come, come. 
 
 Flam. When age shall turn thee 
 White as a blooming hawthorn — 
 
 Mar. I'll interrupt you : 
 
 For love of virtue bear an honest heart, 
 And stride o'er every politic respect,'^ 60 
 
 Which, where they most advance, they most infect. 
 Were I your father, as I am your brother, 
 I should not be ambitious to leave you 
 A better patrimony. 
 
 Flam. I'll think on't. 
 
 The lord ambassadors. 
 
 [The Ambassadors pass over the stage severally. 
 
 Lawyer. O my sprightly Frenchman ! Do you know 
 lim ? he's an admirable tilter. 
 
 Flam. I saw him at last tilting: he showed like a 
 pewter candlestick fashioned like a man in armour, 
 holding a tilting staff in his hand, little bigger than a 
 candle of twelve i' th' pound. 71 
 
 Lawyer. O, but he's an excellent horseman ! 
 
 Flam. A lame on© in his lofty tricks; he sleeps 
 i-horseback, like a poulter. 
 
 Lawyer. Lo you, my Spaniard 1 
 
 Flam. He carries his face in's ruff, as I have seen a 
 serving-man carry glasses in a cypress hatband, mon- 
 trous steady, for fear of breaking; he looks Hke the 
 ;law of a blackbird, first salted, and then broiled in a 
 :andle.° [Exeunt. 80 
 
 The Arraignment of Vittoria 
 
 Enter Francisco, Monticelso, the six lieger Ambassa- 
 dors, Brachiano, Vittoria, Flamineo, Marcello, 
 Lawyer, and a Guard 
 
 Mont. Forbear, my lord, here is no place assigned you. 
 This business, by his holiness, is left 
 To our examination. 
 
66 THE WHITE DEVIL [act ill 
 
 Brack. May it thrive with you! 
 
 [Lays a rich gown under him 
 
 Fran. A chair there for his lordship. 
 
 Brack. Forbear your kindness : an unbidden guest 
 Should travel as Dutch women go to church, 
 Bear their stools with them. 
 
 Mont. At your pleasure, sir. 
 
 Stand to the table, gentlewoman. Now, signior. 
 Fall to your plea. 
 
 Lawyer. Domine judex, converte oculos in kanc pestem, 
 mulierum corruptissimam.^ 91 
 
 Vit. What's he? 
 
 Fran. A lawyer that pleads against you. 
 
 Vit. Pray, my lord, let him speak his usual tongue, 
 I'll make no answer else. 
 
 Fran. Why, you understand Latin. 
 
 Vit. I do, sir, but amongst this auditory 
 Which come to hear my cause, the half or more 
 May be ignorant in't. 
 
 Mont. Go on, sir. 
 
 Vit. By your favour, 
 
 I will not have my accusation clouded 
 In a strange tongue : all this assembly 
 Shall hear what you can charge me with. 
 
 Fran. Signior, loc 
 
 You need not stand on't much ; pray, change your lan- 
 guage. 
 
 Mont. O, for God's sake — Gentlewoman, your credit 
 Shall be more famous by it. 
 
 Lawyer. Well then, have at you. 
 
 Vit. I am at the mark, sir ; I'll give aim° to you. 
 And tell you how near you shoot. 
 
 Lawyer. Most literated judges, please your lordshipj 
 So to connive your judgements to the view 
 Of this debauched and diversivolent ° woman ; 
 Who such a black concatenation 
 Of mischief hath effected, that to extirp i| 
 
SCENE II] THE WHITE DEVIL 6/ 
 
 The memory oft, must be the consummation 
 Of her, and her projections — 
 
 Vit. What's all this ? 
 
 Lawyer. Hold your peace ! 
 Exorbitant sins must have exulceration. 
 
 VU. Surely, my lords, this lawyer here hath swallowed 
 Some 'pothecaries bills, or proclamations ; 
 And now the hard and undigestible words 
 Come up, like stones we use give hawks for physic. 
 Why, this is Welsh to Latin." 
 
 Lawyer. My lords, the woman 
 
 Knows not her tropes, nor figures, nor is perfect 120 
 
 In the academic derivation 
 Of grammatical elocution. 
 
 Fran. Sir, your pains 
 
 Shall be well spared, and your deep eloquence 
 Be worthily applauded amongst those 
 Which understand you. 
 
 Lawyer. My good lord — 
 
 Fran. Sir, 
 
 Put up your papers in your fustian ° bag, 
 
 [Francisco speaks this as in scorn. 
 Cry mercy, sir, 'tis buckram, and accept 
 My notion of your learned verbosity. 
 
 Lawyer. I most graduatically thank your lordship : 
 I shall have use for them elsewhere. [Exit. 130 
 
 Mont. I shall be plainer with you, and paint out 
 Your follies in more natural red and white 
 Than upon your cheek. 
 
 Vit. O, you mistake ! 
 
 You raise a blood as noble in this cheek 
 As ever was your mother's. 
 
 Mont. I must spare you, till proof cry whore to that. 
 Observe this creature here, my honoured lords, 
 A woman of a most prodigious spirit. 
 In her effected." 
 
 Vit. My honourable lord, 
 
6S THE WHITE DEVIL [act in 
 
 It doth not suit a reverend cardinal 140^ 
 
 To play the lawyer thus. i 
 
 Mont. O, your trade instructs your language ! 
 You see, my lords, what goodly fruit she seems ; 
 Yet like those apples travellers report 
 To grow where Sodom and Gomorrah stood, 
 I will but touch her, and you straight shall see ' 
 
 She'll fall to soot and ashes.° 
 
 Vit. Your envenomed ' 
 
 'Pothecary should do't. 1 
 
 Mont. I am resolved, ; 
 
 Were there a second Paradise to lose, 
 This devil would betray it. 
 
 Vit. O poor charity ! 150 
 
 Thou art seldom found in scarlet." 
 
 Mont. Who knows not how, when several night by 
 night 
 Her gates were choked with coaches, and her rooms 
 Outbraved the stars with several kind of lights ; 
 When she did counterfeit a prince's court 
 In music, banquets, and most riotous surfeits ; 
 This whore forsooth was holy. 
 
 Vit. Ha ! whore ! what's that ? 
 
 Mont. Shall I expound whore to you ? sure, I shall ; 
 I'll give their perfect character. They are first. 
 Sweetmeats which rot the eater ; in man's nostrils i6o 
 Poisoned perfumes. They are cozening alchemy ; 
 Shipwrecks in calmest weather^ What are whores ! 
 Cold Russian winters, that appear so barren. 
 As if that nature had forgot the spring. 
 They are the true material fire of hell : 
 Worse than those tributes i' th' Low Countries paid, 
 Exactions upon meat, drink, garments, sleep, 
 Aye, even on man's perdition, his sin. 
 They are those brittle evidences of law, 
 Which forfeit all a wretched man's estate 170 
 
 For leaving out one syllable. What are whores ! 
 
SCENE II] THE WHITE DEVIL 69 
 
 They are those flattering bells have all one tune, 
 
 At weddings and at funerals. Your rich whores 
 
 Are only treasuries by extortion filled, 
 
 And emptied by cursed riot. They are worse. 
 
 Worse than dead bodies which are begged at 
 
 gallows, 
 And wrought upon by surgeons, to teach man 
 Wherein he is imperfect. What's a whore 1 
 She's like the guilty counterfeited coin. 
 Which, whosoe'er first stamps it, brings in trouble 180 
 All that receive it. 
 
 Vit. This character scapes me. 
 
 Mont. You, gentlewoman ! 
 Take from all beasts and from all minerals 
 Their deadly poison — 
 
 Vit. Well, what then? 
 
 Mont. I'll tell thee ; 
 
 I'll find in thee a 'pothecary's shop, 
 To sample them all.° 
 
 Fr. Amh. She hath lived ill. 
 
 Eng. Amb. True, but the cardinal's too bitter. 
 
 Mont. You know what whore is. Next the devil 
 adultery. 
 Enters the devil murder. 
 
 Fran. Your unhappy 
 
 Husband is dead. 
 
 Vit. O, he's a happy husband ! '^ 190 
 
 Now he owes nature nothing. 
 
 Fran. And by a vaulting engine. 
 
 Mont. An active plot. 
 
 He jumped into his grave. 
 
 Fran. WTiat a prodigy was 't, 
 
 That from some two yards' height, a slender man 
 Should break his neck ! 
 
 Mont. V th' rushes ! ° 
 
 Fran. And what's more, 
 
 Upon the instant lose all use of speech, 
 
;0 THE WHITE DEVIL [^CT iii 
 
 All \'ital motion, like a man had lain ^?.odi ots 
 
 Wound up° three days. Now mark each ^r<?5iSiiifetance. 
 
 Mont. And look upon this creature was M©i«l4te ! 
 She comes not like a widow ; she comes arifnbd 2o< 
 
 With scorn and impudence: is this a faourning 
 habit ? 
 
 VH. Had I foreknown his death, as you suggest, 
 I would have bespoke my mourning. 
 
 Mont. O, you are cunnin.s; ti 
 
 Vit. You shame your wit and judgement, 
 To call it so. WTiat ! is my just defence 
 By him that is my judge called impudence ? 
 Let me appeal then from tliis Christian court " 
 To the uncivil Tartar. 
 
 Mont: See, my lords. 
 
 She scandals our proceedings. 
 
 Vit. Humbly thus, 
 
 Thus low, to the most worthy and respected 
 Lieger ambassadors, my modesty 
 And womanhood I tender ; but withal. 
 So entangled in a cursed accusation. 
 That my defence, of force, hke Portia's," 
 ]Must personate masculine virtue. To the point. 
 Find me but guilty, sever head from body. 
 We'll part good friends : I scorn to hold my Hfe 
 At yours, or any man's entreaty, sir. 
 
 Eng. Amb. She hath a brave spirit. 
 
 Mont. Well, w^ell, such counterfeit jewels 
 Make true ones oft suspected. 
 
 Vit. You are deceived : 
 
 For know, that all your strict-combined heads, 
 WTiich strike against this mine of diamonds, 
 Shall prove but glassen hammers : they shall break. 
 These are but feigned shadows of my e^41s. 
 Terrify babes, my lord, with painted de\ils, 
 I am past such needless palsy. For your names 
 Of w^hore and murderess, they proceed from you, 
 
SCENE II] THE WHITE DEVIL 71 
 
 As if a man should spit against the wind : 
 
 The filth returns in 's face. 230 
 
 Mont. Pray you, mistress, satisfy me one question : 
 ' Who lodged beneath your roof that fatal night 
 Your husband brake his neck ? 
 
 Brack. That question 
 
 Enforce th me break silence : I was there. 
 
 Mont. Your business ? 
 
 Brack. Why, I came to comfort her, 
 
 I And take some course for settling her estate. 
 Because I heard her husband was in debt 
 To you, my lord. 
 
 Mont. He was. 
 
 Brack. And 'twas strangely feared, 
 
 That you would cozen her. 
 
 }font. Who made you overseer ? 
 
 Brack. Why, my charity, my charity, which should 
 flow 240 
 
 From every generous and noble spirit. 
 To orphans and to widows. 
 
 Mont. Your lust ! 
 
 Brack. Cowardly dogs bark loudest : sirrah priest, 
 111 talk with you hereafter. Do you hear ? 
 The sword you frame of such an excellent temper, 
 I'll sheathe in your own bowels. 
 There are a number of thy coat resemble 
 Your common post-boys. 
 
 Mont. Ha ! 
 
 Brack. Your mercenary post-boys ; 
 Your letters carry truth, but 'tis your guise 250 
 
 To fill your mouths with gross and impudent lies." 
 
 Serv. My lord, your gown. 
 
 Brack. Thou liest, 'twas my stool : 
 
 Bestow't upon thy master, that will challenge 
 rhe rest a' th' household-stuff ; for Brachiano 
 SVas ne'er so beggarly to take a stool 
 >it of another's lodging : let him make 
 
72 THE WHITE DEVIL [act iii 
 
 Vallance for his bed on't, or a demy foot-cloth ° 
 
 For his most reverend moile. Monticelso, 
 
 Nemo me impune lacessit. [Exit. 
 
 Mont. Your champion's gone. 
 
 Yit. The wolf may prey the better. 260 
 
 Fran. ^ly lord, there's great suspicion of the murder, 
 But no sound proof who did it. For my part, 
 I do not think she hath a soul so black 
 To act a deed so bloody ; if she have, 
 As in cold coimtries husbandmen plant vines. 
 And with warm blood manure them ; even so 
 One summer she ^^ill bear unsavoury fruit, 
 And ere next spring wither both branch and root. 
 The act of blood let pass ;° only descend 
 To matter of incontinence. 
 
 Vit. I discern poison 270 
 
 Under your gilded pills. 
 
 Mont. Now the duke's gone, I will produce a letter 
 \Mierein 'twas plotted, he and you should meet 
 At an apothecary's summer-house, 
 Down by the river Tiber, — \dew't my lords, — 
 WTiere after wanton bathing and the heat 
 Of a lascivious banquet — I pray read it, 
 I shame to speak the rest. 
 
 Vit. Grant I was tempted; 
 
 Temptation to lust proves not the act : 
 Casta est qua?n nemo rogavit.^ 2S0 
 
 You read his hot love to me, but you want 
 My frosty answer. 
 
 Mont. Frost i' th' dog-days ! strange ! 
 
 Vit. Condemn you me for that the duke did love me ? 
 So may you blame some fair and crystal river, 
 For that some melancholic distracted man 
 Hath drowned himself in't. 
 
 Mont. Truly dro'VNTied, indeed. 
 
 Vit. Sum up my faults, I pray, and you shall find, 
 That beauty and gay clothes, a merry heart, 
 
SCENE II] THE WHITE DEVIL 73 
 
 And a good stomach to feast, are all, 
 
 All the poor crimes that you can charge me with. 290 
 
 In faith, my lord, you might go pistol flies, 
 
 The sport would be more noble. 
 
 Motit. Very good. 
 
 Vit. But take you your course : it seems you've 
 beggared me first, 
 And now would fain undo me. I have houses, 
 Jewels, and a poor remnant of crusadoes ; 
 Would those would make you charitable ! 
 
 Mont. If the devil 
 
 Did ever take good shape, behold his picture. 
 
 Vit. You have one virtue left, — you will not flatter 
 me. 
 
 Fran. Who brought this letter ? 
 
 Vit. I am not compelled to tell you. 
 
 Mont. My lord duke sent to you a thousand ducats 
 The twelfth of August. 
 
 Vit. 'Twas to keep your cousin 301 
 
 From prison ; I paid use for't. 
 
 Mont. I rather think, 
 
 Twas interest for his lust. 
 
 Vit. Who says so but yourself ? if you be my accuser, 
 Pfay cease to be my judge : come from the bench ; 
 Give in your evidence 'gainst me, and let these 
 Be moderators. My lord cardinal, 
 Were your intelligencing ears as lo\"ing 
 As to my thoughts,^ had you an honest tongue, 
 [ would not care though you proclaimed them all. 31° 
 
 Mont. Go to, go to. 
 After your goodly and vainglorious banquet, 
 I'll give you a choke-pear. 
 
 Vit. A' your own grafting ? 
 
 Mont. You were bom in Venice, honourably descended 
 From the Vittelli : 'twas my cousin's fate, — 
 [11 may I name the hour, — to marry you ; 
 ae bought you of your father. 
 
74 THE WHITE DEVIL [act iii 
 
 Vit. Ha ! 
 
 Alont. He spent there in six months 
 Twelve thousand ducats, and (to my acquaintance) 
 Received in dowry with you not one julio : 320 
 
 'Twas a hard pennyworth, the ware being so light. 
 I yet but draw the curtain ; now to your picture : 
 You came from thence a most notorious strumpet. 
 And so you have continued. 
 
 Vit. My lord ! 
 
 Mont. Nay, hear me, 
 
 You shall have time to prate. My lord Brachiano — 
 Alas ! I make but repetition. 
 Of what is ordinary and Rialto talk," 
 And ballated, and would be played a' th' stage, 
 But that vice many times finds such loud friends, 
 That preachers are charmed silent. 33° 
 
 You, gentlemen, Flamineo and Marcello, 
 The court hath nothing now to charge you with, 
 Only you must remain upon your sureties 
 For your appearance. 
 
 Fran. I stand for Marcello. 
 
 Flam. And my lord duke for me. 
 
 Mont. For you, Vittoria, your public fault, 
 Joined to th' condition of the present time. 
 Takes from you all the fruits of noble pity. 
 Such a corrupted trial have you made 
 Both of your life and beauty, and been styled 34° 
 
 No less an ominous fate than blazing stars 
 To princes. Hear your sentence : you are confined 
 Unto a house of convertites,'^ and your bawd — 
 
 Flam. Who, I ? 
 
 Mont. The Moor. 
 
 Flam. O, I am a sound man again. 
 
 Vit. A house of convertites ! what's that? 
 
 Mont. A house 
 
 Of penitent whores. 
 
 Vit. « Do the noblemen in Rome 
 
SCENE II] THE WHITE* DEVIL 75 
 
 Erect it for their wives, that I am sent 
 To lodge there ? 
 
 Fran. You must have patience. 
 
 Vit. I must first have vengeance. 
 
 I fain would know if you have your salvation 35° 
 
 By patent, that you proceed thus. 
 
 Mont. Away with her! Take her hence. 
 
 Vit. A rape ! a rape ! 
 
 Mont. How ? 
 
 Vit. ^ Yes, you have ravished justice ; 
 
 Forced her to do your pleasure. 
 
 Mont. Fie, she's mad ! 
 
 Vit. Die with those pills in your most cursed maw, 
 Should bring you health ! or while you sit o' th' bench, 
 Let your own spittle choke you ! 
 
 Mont. She's turned fury. 
 
 Vit. That the last day of judgement may so find you, 
 And leave you the same devil you were before ! 
 Instruct me, some good horse-leech, to speak treason ; 360 
 For since you cannot take my life for deeds, 
 Take it for words. O woman's poor revenge. 
 Which dwells but in the tongue ! I will not weep ; 
 No, I do scorn to call up one poor tear 
 To fawn on your injustice : bear me hence 
 Unto this house of — what's your mitigating title ? 
 
 Mont. Of convertites. 
 
 Vit. It shall not be a house of convertites ; 
 My mind shall make it honester to me 
 Than the Pope's palace, and more peaceable 37° 
 
 Than thy soul, though thou art a cardinal. 
 Know this, and let it somewhat raise your spite. 
 Through darkness diamonds spread their richest light. 
 
 [Exit guarded. 
 
 Enter Brachiano 
 
 Brack. Now ycu and I are friends, sir, we'll shake 
 hands 
 
'j() THE WHITE DEVIL [act iii 
 
 In a friend's grave together," a fit place, 
 
 Being th' emblem of soft peace, t'atone our hatred. 
 
 Fran. Sir, what's the matter ? 
 
 Brack, I will not chase more blood from that loved 
 cheek ; 
 You have lost too much already ; fare you well. \Exit. 
 
 Fran. How strange these words sound ! what's the 
 interpretation ? 380 
 
 Flam. \Aside\ Good; this is a preface to the dis- 
 covery of the duchess's death: he carries it well. Be- 
 cause now I cannot counterfeit a whining passion for 
 the death of my lady, I will feign a mad humour for 
 the disgrace of my sister ; and that will keep off idle 
 questions. Treason's tongue hath a villainous palsy 
 in't; I will talk to any man, hear no man, and for a 
 time appear a politic madman. \E%it, 
 
 Enter Giovanni, and Count Lodovico 
 
 Fran. How now, my noble cousin ? what, in black ! 
 
 Giov. Yes, uncle, I was taught to imitate you 39° 
 
 In virtue, and you must imitate me 
 In colours of your garments. My sweet mother 
 Is — 
 
 Fran. How? where? 
 
 Giov. Is there ; no, yonder : indeed, sir, I'll not tell 
 you. 
 For I shall make you weep. 
 
 Fran. Is dead ? 
 
 Giov. Do not blame me now, 
 I did not tell you so. 
 
 Lod. She's dead, my lord. 
 
 Fran. Dead ! 
 
 Mont. Blessed lady, thou art now above thy woes 
 Wilt please your lordships to withdraw a little ? ° j 
 
 \Exeunt Ambassadors' 
 
SCENE II] THE WHITE DEVIL 77 
 
 Giov. What do the dead do, uncle ? do they eat, 400 
 Hear music, go a hunting, and be merry. 
 As we that Uve ? 
 
 Fran. No, coz ; they sleep. 
 
 Giov. Lord, lord, that I were dead !. 
 
 I have not slept these six nights. When do they 
 wake? 
 
 Fran. When God shall please. 
 
 Giov. Good God, let her sleep ever ! 
 
 For I have known her wake an hundred nights. 
 When all the pillow where she laid her head 
 Was brine-wet with her tears. I am to complain to you, 
 
 sir; 
 I'll tell you how they have used her now she's dead : 
 They wrapped her in a cruel fold of lead, 410 
 
 And would not let me kiss her. 
 
 Fran. Thou did'st love her. 
 
 Giov. I have often heard her say she gave me suck. 
 And it should seem by that she dearly loved me, 
 Since princes seldom do it. 
 
 Fran. O, all of my poor sister that remains ! 
 Take him away for God's sake ? [Exit Giovanni. 
 
 Mont. How now, my lord ? 
 
 Fran. Believe me, I am nothing but her grave ; 
 And I shall keep her blessed memory 
 Longer than thousand epitaphs. 
 
 Enter Flamineo as distracted 
 Flam. We endure the strokes like anvils or hard steel 
 
 Till pain itself make us no pain to feel. 421 
 
 Who shall do me right now ? is this the end of service ? 
 I'd rather go weed garlic ; travel through France, and 
 be mine own ostler; wear sheep-skin linings, or shoes 
 that stink of blacking; be entered into the list of the 
 forty thousand pedlars in Poland. 
 
78 THE WHITE DEVIL [act in 
 
 Enter Savoy Ambassador 
 
 Would I had rotted in some surgeon's house at Venicei 
 built upon the pox as well as on piles, ere I had servec 
 Brachiano I 
 
 Savoy Amb. You must have comfort. 434 
 
 Flam. Your comfortable words are like honey: they 
 reHsh well in your mouth that's whole, but in mine 
 that's wounded, they go do\\Ti as if the sting of the bee 
 were in them. O, they have wrought their purpose cun- 
 ningly, as if they would not seem to do it of maUce ! In 
 this a pohtician imitates the devil, as the devil imitates 
 a cannon ; wheresoever he comes to do mischief, he 
 comes with his backside towards you. 
 
 Enter French and EngUsh Ambassadors 
 
 French Amb. The proofs are ex-ident. 439 
 
 Flatn. Proof I 'twas corruption. O gold, what a god 
 art thou ! and O man, what a de\il art thou to be 
 tempted by that cursed mineral ! Yon diversivolent 
 lawyer, mark him I knaves turn informers, as maggots 
 turn to flies, you may catch gudgeons with either. A 
 cardinal ! I would he would hear me : there's nothing 
 so holy but money vdU. corrupt and putrify it, Uke 
 victual under the line.°" You are happy in England, my 
 lord; here they sell justice with those weights they 
 press men to death ^Yith.° O horrible salary ! 
 
 E)ig. Amb. Fie, fie, Flamineo. 450 ' 
 
 [Exeunt Ambassadors, 
 
 Flam. Bells ne'er ring well, till they are at their full 
 pitch; and I hope yon cardinal shall never have the 
 grace to pray well, till he come to the scaffold. If they 
 were racked now to know the confederacy: but your 
 noblemen are pri\ileged from the rack; and well may, 
 for a httle thing would pull some of them a'pieces 
 afore they came to their arraignment. ReHgion, O how 
 it is commeddled with policy! The first blood shed in 
 
 il 
 
SCENE II] THE WHITE DEVIL 79 
 
 the world happened about religion." Would I were a 
 Jl v 1 ° 460 
 
 Mar. O, there are too many ! 
 
 Flam. You are deceived ; there are not Jews enough, 
 priests enough, nor gentlemen enough. 
 
 Mar. How ? 
 
 Flam. I'll prove it; for if there were Jews enough, 
 so many Christians would not turn usurers ; if priests 
 enough, one should not have six benefices ; and if gentle- 
 men enough, so many early mushrooms, whose best 
 growth sprang from a dunghill, should not aspire to 
 gentility. Farewell : let others hve by begging : be 
 :hou one of them practise the art of Wolner in England" 
 o swallow all's given thee: and yet let one purgation 
 Tiake thee a5* hungry again as fellows that work in a 
 ^\v-pit. I'll go hear the screech-owl. [Exit. 474 
 
 Lod. This was Brachiano's pander ; and 'tis strange 
 That in such open, and apparent guilt 
 Df his adulterous sister, he dare utter 
 50 scandalous a passion. I must wind him. 
 
 Re-enter Flamineo 
 
 Flam. [Aside.] How dares this banished count return 
 to Rome, 
 
 is pardon not yet purchased ! I have heard 480 
 
 [lie deceased duchess gave him pension, 
 Lnd that he came along from Padua 
 ' th' train of the young prince. There's somewhat in't : 
 hysicians, that cure poisons, still do work 
 Vith counter-poisons. 
 
 Mar. ^lark this strange encounter. 
 
 Flam. The god of melancholy turn thy gall to poison, 
 jid let the stigmatic wrinkles in thy face, 
 ike to the boisterous waves in a rough tide, 
 
 rie still overtake another. 
 Lod. I do thank thee, 
 
8o THE WHITE DEVIL [act iii 
 
 And I do wish ingeniously for thy sake, 490 
 
 The dog-days all year long. 
 
 Flam. How croaks the raven ? 
 
 Is our good duchess dead? 
 
 Lod. Dead. 
 
 Flam. O fate ! 
 
 Misfortune comes like the coroner's business 
 Huddle upon huddle. 
 
 Lod. Shalt thou and I join housekeeping ? 
 
 Flam. Yes, content : 
 
 Let's be unsociably sociable. 
 
 Lod. Sit some three days together, and discourse ? 
 
 Flam. Only with making faces ; lie in our clothes. 
 
 Lod. With faggots for our pillows. 
 
 Flam. And be lousy. 
 
 Lod. In taffeta linings, that's genteel melancholy ; 5°° 
 Sleep all day. 
 
 Fla^n. Yes ; and, like your melancholic hare," 
 Feed after midnight. 
 We are observed : see how yon couple grieve." 
 
 Lod. What a strange creature is a laughing fool ! 
 As if man were created to no use 
 But only to show his teeth. 
 
 Flam. I'll tell thee what, 
 
 It would do well instead of looking-glasses. 
 To set one's face each morning by a saucer 
 Of a witch's congealed blood." 
 
 Lod. Precious rogue ! 51c 
 
 We'll never part. 
 
 Flam. Never, till the beggary of courtiers, 
 The discontent of churchmen, want of soldiers. 
 And all the creatures that hang manacled, 
 Worse than strappadoed, on the lowest felly 
 Of fortune's wheel, be taught, in our two lives. 
 To scorn that world which life of means deprives. 
 
SCENE II] THE WHITE DEVIL 8l 
 
 Enter Antonelli and Gasparo 
 
 Ant. My lord, I bring good news. The Pope, on's 
 death-bed, 
 At th' earnest suit of the great duke of Florence, 
 Hath signed your pardon, and restored unto you — 520 
 
 Lod. I thank you for your news. Look up again, 
 Flamineo, see my pardon. 
 
 Flam. Why do you laugh ? 
 
 There was no such condition in our covenant. 
 
 Lod. Why? 
 
 Flam. You shall not seem a happier man than I : 
 You know our vow, sir ; if you will be merry. 
 Do it i' th' hke posture, as if some great man 
 Sate while his enemy were executed : 
 Though it be very lechery unto thee, 
 Do't with a crabbed politician's face. 
 
 Lod. Your sister is a damnable whore. 
 
 Flam. Ha ! 53° 
 
 Lod. Look you, I spake that laughing. 
 
 Flam. Dost ever think to speak again ? 
 
 Lod. ' Do you hear ? 
 
 Wilt sell me forty ounces of her blood 
 To water a mandrake ? 
 
 Flam. Poor lord, you did vow 
 
 To live a lousy creature. 
 
 Lod. Yes. 
 
 Flam. Like one 
 
 That had for ever forfeited the dayHght, 
 By being in debt. 
 
 Lod. Ha, ha ! 
 
 Flam. I do not greatly wonder you do break," 
 Your lordship learned't long since. But I'll tell you — 
 
 Lod. What? 
 
 Flam. And't shall stick by you — 
 
 Lod. I long for it. 54° 
 
 Flam. This laughter scurvily becomes your face : 
 
I 
 
 82 THE WHITE DEVIL [act ill 
 
 If you will not be melancholy, be angry. [Strikes him. 
 See, now I laugh, too. 
 
 Mar. You are to blame : I'll force you hence. 
 
 Lod. Unhand me. 
 
 [Exeunt Marcello and Flamineo. 
 That e'er I should be forced to right myself, 
 Upon a pander ! , 
 
 Ant. My lord! j 
 
 Lod. H' had been as good met with his fist a thun- 
 derbolt. 
 
 Gas. How this shovv^s ! 
 
 Lod. Ud'sdeath ! ^ how did my sword miss him ? 
 
 These rogues that are most weary of their lives 
 Still scape the greatest dangers. 55° 
 
 A pox upon him ! all his reputation, 
 Nay, all the goodness of his family. 
 Is not worth half this earthquake : 
 I learned it of no fencer to shake thus : 
 Come, I'll forget him, and go drink some wine. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III'' 
 Enter Francisco and Monticelso 
 
 Mont. Come, come, my lord, untie your folded 
 thoughts, 
 And let them dangle loose, as a bride's hair." 
 Your sister's poisoned. 
 
 Fran. Far be it from my thoughts 
 
 To seek revenge. 
 
 Mont. What, are you turned all marble ? 
 
 Fran. Shall I defy him, and impose a war, 
 Most burdensome on my poor subjects' necks. 
 Which at my will I have not power to end ? 
 You know for all the murders, rapes, and thefts, 
 Committed in the horrid lust of war. 
 He that unjustly caused it first proceed. 
 Shall find it in liis grave, and in his seed. 
 
SCENE III] THE WHITE DEVIL 83 
 
 Mont. That's not the course I'd wish you; pray 
 observe me. 
 We see that undermining more prevails 
 Than doth the cannon. Bear your wrongs concealed, 
 And, patient as the tortoise, let this camel 
 Stalk o'er your back unbruised : sleep with the lion, 
 And let this brood of secure foolish mice 
 Play with your nostrils, till the time be ripe 
 For th' bloody audit, and the fatal gripe : 
 Aim hke a cunning fowler, close one eye, 20 
 
 That you the better may your game espy. 
 
 Fran. Free me, my innocence, from treacherous acts I 
 I know there's thunder yonder ; and I'll stand. 
 Like a safe valley, which low bends the knee 
 To some aspiring mountain : since I know 
 Treason, like spiders weaving nets for flies. 
 By her foul work is found, and in it dies. 
 To pass away these thoughts, my honoured lord, 
 it is reported you possess a book, 
 
 Wherein you have quoted, by intelUgence, 30 
 
 The names of all notorious offenders 
 Lurking about the city. 
 
 Mont. Sir, I do ; 
 
 And some there are which call it my black book. 
 Well may the title hold ; for though it teach not 
 1?he art of conjuring, yet in it lurk 
 The names of many devils. 
 
 Fran. Pray let's see it. 
 
 Mont. I'll fetch it to your lordship. [Exit. 
 
 Fran. Monticelso, 
 
 I will not trust thee, but in all my plots 
 I'll rest as jealous as a town besieged. 
 Thou canst not reach what I intend to act : 40 
 
 Your flax soon kindles, soon is out again. 
 But gold slow heats, and long will hot remain. 
 
84 THE WHITE DEVIL [act iii 
 
 Enter Moxticelso, presents Fr.\ncisco with a hook 
 
 Mont. 'Tis here, my lord. 
 
 Fran. First, your intelligencers, pray let's see. 
 
 Mont. Their number rises strangely, and some of them 
 You'd take for honest men. Next are panders: 
 These are your pirates ; and these following leaves 
 For base rogues that undo young gentlemen, 
 By taking up commodities ; ° for poUtic bankrupts ; 
 For fellows that are bawds to their own -^dves, 5° 
 
 Only to put off horses, and slight jewels. 
 Clocks, defaced plate, and such commodities, 
 At birth of their first children. 
 
 Fraji. Are there such ? 
 
 Mont. These are for impudent bawds, 
 That go in men's apparel ; for usurers 
 That share with scriveners for their good reportage 
 For lawyers that \sill antedate their writs : 
 And some di^'ines you might find folded there. 
 But that I slip them o'er for conscience' sake. 
 Here is a general catalogue of knaves : 60 
 
 A man might study all the prisons o'er, 
 Yet never attain this knowledge. 
 
 Fran. Murderers? 
 
 Fold do^n the leaf, I pray ; 
 Good my lord, let me borrow this strange doctrine. 
 
 Mont. Pray, use't, my lord. 
 
 Fran. I do assure your lordship, 
 
 You are a worthy member of the state, -; 
 
 And have done infinite good in your discover}^ : 
 
 Of these offenders. 
 
 Mo tit. Somewhat, sir. 
 
 Fran. O God ! 
 
 Better than tribute of wolves paid in England ; 
 'T-^-ill hang their skins o' th' hedge. 
 
 Mont. I must make bold 
 
 To leave your lordship. 
 
I SCENE III] THE WHITE DEVIL 85 
 
 Fran. Dearly, sir, I thank you : 
 
 If any ask for me at court, report 
 ! You have left me in the company of knaves. 
 
 [Exit MONTICELSO. 
 
 I gather now by this,° some cunning fellow 
 
 That's my lord's ofl&cer, and that lately skipped 
 
 From a clerk's desk up to a justice' chair, 
 
 Hath made this knavish summons, and intends, 
 
 As th' Irish rebels wont were to sell heads. 
 
 So to make prize of these. And thus it happens : 
 
 Your poor rogues pay for't which have not the means So 
 
 To present bribe in fist ; the rest o' th' band 
 
 Are razed out of the knaves' record; or else 
 
 My lord he winks at them \sith easy will ; 
 
 His man grows rich, the knaves are the knaves still. 
 
 But to the use I'll make of it ; it shall 5er\-e 
 
 To point me out a hst of murderers, 
 
 Agents for any \illainy. Did I want 
 
 Ten leash of courtesans, it would furnish me ; 
 
 Nay, laundress, three armies.^ That so Uttle paper 
 
 Should be th' undoing of so many men ! 90 
 
 'Tis not so big as twenty declarations. 
 
 See the corrupted use some make of books : 
 
 Di\'inity,^ wrested by some factious blood. 
 
 Draws swords, swells battles, and o'erthrows all good. 
 
 To fashion my revenge more seriously. 
 
 Let me remember my dead sister's face : 
 
 Call for her picture ? no, I'll close mine eyes, 
 
 And in a melanchohc thought I'll frame 
 
 Enter Is.a:bella's Ghost 
 
 Her figure fore me. Xow I ha't — how strong 
 Imagination works ! how she can frame icx> 
 
 Things which are not ! methinks she stands afore me, 
 And by the quick idea of my mind. 
 Were my skiU pregnant, I could draw her picture. 
 
86 THE WHITE DEVIL [act iii 
 
 Thought, as a subtle juggler, makes us deem 
 
 Things supernatural, which yet have cause 
 
 Common as sickness. 'Tis my melancholy. 
 
 How cam'st thou by thy death ? — how idle am I 
 
 To question mine own idleness ! — did ever 
 
 Man dream awake till now ? — remove this object ; 
 
 Out of my brain with't : what have I to do 
 
 With tombs, or death-beds, funerals, or tears. 
 
 That have to meditate upon revenge ? [Exit Ghost. 
 
 So, now 'tis ended, like an old wife's story. 
 
 Statesmen think often they see stranger sights 
 
 Than madmen. Come, to this weighty business. 
 
 My tragedy must have some idle mirth in't, 
 
 Else it will never pass. I am in love, 
 
 In love with Corombona ; and my suit 
 
 Thus halts to her in verse. — [He writes. 
 
 I have done it rarely : O the fate of princes ! 120 
 
 I am so used to frequent flattery, 
 
 That, being alone, I now flatter myself : 
 
 But it will serve ; 'tis sealed. Bear this 
 
 Enter Servant 
 
 To the house of convertites, and watch your leisure 
 
 To give it to the hands of Corombona, 
 
 Or to the matron, when some followers 
 
 Of Brachiano may be by. Away! [Exit Servant. 
 
 He that deals all by strength, his wit is shallow ; 
 
 When a man's head goes through, each Umb will follow. 
 
 The engine for my business, bold count Lodowick ; 130 
 
 'Tis gold must such an instrument procure, 
 
 With empty fist no man doth falcons lure. 
 
 Brachiano, I am now fit for thy encounter : 
 
 Like the wild Irish, I'll ne'er think thee dead 
 
 Till I can play at football with thy head. 
 
 Flectere si nequeo super os, Acheronta moveho.^ [Exi 
 
ACT THE FOURTH 
 Scene I° 
 E}iter the Matron, and Flamineo 
 
 Matron. Should it be known the duke hath such 
 recourse 
 
 To your imprisoned sister, I were like 
 T' incur much damage by it. 
 
 Flam. Not a scruple. 
 
 The Pope Hes on his death-bed, and their heads 
 Are troubled now with other business 
 Than guarding of a lady. 
 
 Enter Servant 
 
 Servant. [Aside.] Yonder's Flamineo in conference 
 With the matrona. — Let me speak with you : 
 I would entreat you to deliver for me 
 This letter to the fair Vittoria. lo 
 
 Matron. I shall, sir. 
 
 Servant. With all care and secrecy ; 
 
 Hereafter you shall know me, and receive 
 Thanks for this courtesy. [Exit. 
 
 Flam. How now? what's that? 
 
 Matron. A letter. 
 
 Flam. To my sister ? I'll see't delivered. 
 
 Enter Brachiano 
 
 Brack. What's that you read, Flamineo ? 
 Flam. Look. 
 
 87 
 
88 THE WHITE DEVIL [act n 
 
 Brack. Ha ! 
 
 "To the most unfortunate, his best respected 
 Vittoria." — Who was the messenger ? 
 
 Flam. I know not. 
 
 Brack. No ! who sent it ? 
 
 Flam. Ud'sfoot ! you speak, as if a man 
 Should know what fowl is coffined in a baked meat" 2( 
 Afore you cut it up. 
 
 Brack. I'll open't, were't her heart. What's here 
 subscribed ! 
 Florence ! this juggling is gross and palpable. 
 I have found out the conveyance. Read it, read it. 
 
 Flam. ''Your tears I'll turn to triumphs, be but mine 
 Your prop is fallen : I pity, that a vine, 
 Which princes heretofore have longed to gather. 
 Wanting supporters, now should fade and wither." 
 (Wine, i' faith, my lord, with lees would serve his turn. 
 "Your sad imprisonment I'll soon uncharm, 3 
 
 And with a princely uncontrolled arm 
 Lead you to Florence, where my love and care 
 Shall hang your wishes in my silver hair." 
 (A halter on his strange equivocation !) 
 "Nor for my years return me the sad willow. 
 Who prefer blossoms before fruit that's mellow?" 
 (Rotten, on my knowledge, with lying too long i' th 
 
 bed-straw.) 
 "And all the lines of age this line convinces; 
 The gods never wax old, no more do princes." 
 A pox on't, tear it; let's have no more atheists, 4c 
 For God's sake. 
 
 Brack. Ud'sdeath ! I'll cut her into atomies. 
 And let th' irregular north wind sweep her up, 
 And blow her int' his nostrils : where's this whore ? 
 
 Flam. What ? what do you call her ? 
 
 Brack. O, I could be mad 
 
 Prevent the cursed disease she'll bring me to, 
 And tear my hair off. Where's this changeable stuff ? 
 
SCENE II] THE WHITE DEVIL 89 
 
 Flam. O'er head and ears in water," I assure you ; 
 She is not for your wearing. 
 
 Brack. No, you pander ? 
 
 Flam. What, me, my lord ? am I your dog ? 5° 
 
 Brack. A bloodhound: do you brave, do you stand 
 
 me 
 
 Flam. Stand 3/ou ! let those that have diseases run ; 
 I need no plasters. 
 
 Brack. Would you be kicked ? 
 
 Flam. Would you have your neck broke? 
 I tell you, duke, I am not in Russia ; ° 
 My shins must be kept whole. 
 
 Brack. Do you know me ? 
 
 Flam. O my lord, methodically ! 
 
 As in this world there are degrees of evils, 
 So in tliis world there are degrees of devils. 
 You're a great duke, I your poor secretary. 60 
 
 I do look now for a Spanish fig, or an Italian sallet,° 
 daily. 
 
 Brack. Pander, ply your convoy," and leave your 
 prating. 
 
 Flam. All your kindness to me, is like that miserable 
 
 courtesy of Polyphemus to Ulysses ; you reserve me to 
 
 be devoured last : you would dig turfs out of my grave 
 
 [j'to feed your larks ; that would be music to you. Come, 
 
 ['11 lead you to her. 
 
 Brack. Do you face me ? 69 
 
 Flam. O, sir, I would not go before a politic enemy 
 vith my back towards him, though there were behind 
 ne a whirlpool. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II" 
 Enter Vittoria, to Brachiano and Flamineo 
 
 Brack. Can you read, mistress ? look upon that letter : 
 ['here are no characters, nor hieroglyphics. 
 
90 THE WHITE DEVIL [act iv 
 
 You need no comment ; I am grown your receiver. 
 God's precious ! you shall be a brave great lady, 
 A stately and advanced whore. 
 
 VU. Say, sir ? 
 
 Brack. Come, come, let's see your cabinet, discover 
 Your treasury of love-letters. Death and furies ! 
 I'll see them all. 
 
 Vit. Sir, upon my soul, 
 
 I have not any. Whence was this directed ? 
 
 Brack. Confusion on your politic ignorance !° lo 
 
 You are reclaimed, are you ? I'll give you the bells," 
 And let you fly to the devil. 
 
 Flam. Ware hawk, my lord. 
 
 Vit. Florence ! this is some treacherous plot, my lord ; 
 To me he ne'er was lovely, I protest. 
 So much as in my sleep. 
 
 Brack. Right! they are plots. 
 
 Your beauty ! O ten thousand curses on't ! 
 How long have I beheld the devil in crystal ! ^ 
 Thou hast led me, like an heathen sacrifice, 
 With music, and with fatal yokes of flowers, 
 To my eternal ruin. Woman to man 
 Is either a god, or a wolf. 
 
 Vit. My lord — 
 
 Brae. Away ! 
 
 We'll be as differing as two adamants. 
 The one shall shun the other. What ! dost weep ? 
 Procure but ten of thy dissembling trade, 
 Ye'd furnish all the Irish funerals ' 
 
 With howling past wild Irish. 
 
 Flam. Fie, my lord ! 
 
 Brack. That hand, that cursed hand, which I have 
 wearied 
 With doting kisses ! — O my sweetest duchess, 
 How lovely art thou now ! — My loose thoughts 
 Scatter Hke quicksilver : I was bewitched ; 3«j 
 
 For all the world speaks ill of thee. 
 
SCENE II] THE WHITE DEVIL 91 
 
 Vit. No matter ; 
 
 I'll live so now, I'll make that world recant, 
 And change her speeches. You did name your duchess. 
 
 Brack. Whose death God pardon ! 
 
 VU. Whose death God revenge 
 
 On thee, most godless duke ! 
 
 Flam. Now for ten whirlwinds. 
 
 Vit. What have I gained by thee, but infamy ? 
 Thou hast stained the spotless honour of my house. 
 And frighted thence noble society : 
 Like those, which sick o' th' palsy, and retain 
 Ill-scenting foxes 'bout them,"^ are still shunned 40 
 
 By those of choicer nostrils. What do you call this house ? 
 Is this your palace ? did not the judge style it 
 A house of penitent whores ? who sent me to it ? 
 Who hath the honour to advance Vittoria 
 To this incontinent college ? is't not you ? 
 Is't not your high preferment ? go, go, brag 
 How many ladies you have undone like me. 
 Fare you well, sir ; let me hear no more of you ! 
 I had a limb corrupted to an ulcer. 
 But I have cut it off ; and now I'll go 50 
 
 Weeping to heaven on crutches, For your gifts, 
 I will return them all, and I do wish 
 That I could make you full executor 
 To all my sins. O that I could toss myself 
 Into a grave as quickly ! for all thou art worth 
 I'll not shed one tear more — I'll burst first. 
 
 [She throws herself upon a bed. 
 
 Brack. I have drunk Lethe : Vittoria ! 
 My dearest happiness ! Vittoria ! 
 What do you ail, my love ? why do you weep ? 
 
 Vit. Yes, I now weep poniards, do you see ? 60 
 
 Brack. Are not those matchless eyes mine ? 
 
 Vit. I had rather 
 
 They were not matchless. 
 
 Brack. Is not this lip mine ? 
 
92 THE WHITE DEVIL [act iv 
 
 Vit. Yes ; thus to bite it off, rather than give it thee. 
 
 Flam. Turn to my lord, good sister. 
 
 Vit. Hence, you pander ! 
 
 Flam. Pander ! am I the author of your sin ? 
 
 Vit. Yes ; he's a base thief that a thief lets in. 
 
 Flam. We're blown up, my lord. 
 
 Brack Wilt thou hear me ? 
 
 Once to be jealous of thee, is t'express 
 That I will love thee everlastingly. 
 And never more be jealous. 
 
 Vit. O thou fool, 70 
 
 Whose greatness hath by much o'ergrown thy wit ! 
 What dar'st thou do, that I not dare to suffer, 
 Excepting to be still thy whore ? for that, 
 In the sea's bottom sooner thou shalt make 
 A bonfire. 
 
 Flam. O, no oaths, for God's sake ! 3 
 
 Brack. Will you hear me ? 1 
 
 Vit. Never. 
 
 Flam. What a damned impostume is a woman's will! 
 Can nothing break it ? Fie, fie, my lord, 
 Women are caught as you take tortoises. 
 She must be turned on her back. — [Aside.] Sister, by 
 this hand 8c 
 
 I am on your side — Come, come, you have wronged her 
 What a strange credulous man were you, my lord, 
 To think the duke of Florence would love her ! 
 Will any mercer take another's ware 
 When once 'tis towsed and sullied ? — And yet, sister. 
 How scurvily this forwardness becomes you ! 
 Young leverets stand not long, and women's anger 
 Should, like their flight, procure a little sport ; 
 A full cry for a quarter of an hour. 
 And then be put to th' dead quat. 
 
 Brack. Shall these eyes, 9 
 
 Which have so long time dwelt upon your face. 
 Be now put out ? 
 
SCENE II] THE WHITE DEVIL 93 
 
 Flam, No cruel landlady i' th' world, 
 
 Which lends forth groats to broom-men, and takes use 
 
 for them, 
 Would do't. 
 
 Hand her, my lord, and kiss her : be not like 
 A ferret, to let go your hold with blowing. 
 
 Brack. Let us renew right hands. 
 
 Vit. Hence ! 
 
 I Brack. Never shall rage, or the forgetful wine, 
 Make me commit like fault. 
 
 Flam. Now you are i' th' way on't, follow't hard. 100 
 
 Brack. Be thou at peace with me, let all the world 
 Threaten the cannon. 
 
 Flam. Mark his penitence ; 
 
 Best natures do commit the grossest faults. 
 When they're given o'er to jealousy, as best wine, 
 Dying, makes strongest vinegar. I'll tell you : 
 The sea's more rough and raging than calm rivers. 
 But not so sweet, nor wholesome. A quiet woman 
 Is a still water under a great bridge ; 
 A man may shoot her safely. 
 
 Vit. O ye dissembling men ! 
 
 Flam. We sucked that, sister, no 
 
 From women's breasts, in our first infancy. 
 
 Vit. To add misery to misery ! 
 
 Brack. Sweetest ! 
 
 Vit. Am I not low enough ? 
 Aye, aye, your good heart gathers like a snowball, 
 Now your affection's cold. 
 
 Flam. Ud'sfoot, it shall melt 
 
 To a heart again, or all the wine in Rome 
 Shall run o' th' lees for't. 
 
 Vit. Your dog or hawk should be rewarded better 
 Than I have been. I'll speak not one word more. 
 : Flam. Stop her mouth with a sweet kiss, my lord. So, 
 Now the tide's turned, the vessel's come about. 121 
 
 He's a sweet armful. O, we curl-haired men 
 
94 THE WHITE DEVIL [act iv 
 
 Are still most kind to women ! This is well. 
 
 Brack. That you should chide thus ! 
 
 Flam. O, sir, your Uttle chimneys 
 
 Do ever cast most smoke ! I sweat for you. 
 Couple together with as deep a silence, 
 As did the Grecians in their wooden horse. 
 My lord, supply your promises with deeds ; 
 You know that painted meat no hunger feeds. 
 
 Brack. Stay, ingrateful Rome — 
 
 Flam. Rome I it deserves 13° 
 
 To be called Barbary, for our villainous usage. 
 
 Brack. Soft; the same project which the duke of 
 Florence, 
 (Whether in love or gullery I know not). 
 Laid down for her escape, will I pursue. 
 
 Flam. And no time fitter than this night, my lord. 
 The Pope being dead, and all the cardinals entered 
 The conclave for Lh' electing a new Pope ; 
 The city in a great confusion ; 
 We may attire her in a page's suit. 
 Lay her post-horse, take shipping, and amain 140 
 
 For Padua. 
 
 Brack. I'll instantly steal forth the prince Giovanni, 
 And make for Padua. You two with your old mother, 
 And young Marcello that attends on Florence, 
 If you can work him to it, follow me : 
 I will advance you all ; for you, Vittoria, 
 Think of a duchess' title. 
 
 Flam. Lo you, sister ! 147 
 
 Stay, my lord; I'll tell you a tale. The crocodile, 
 which lives in the river Nilus, hath a worm breeds i' th' 
 teeth oft, which puts it to extreme anguish: a Uttle 
 bird, no bigger than a wren, is barber-surgeon to this 
 crocodile ; flies into the jaws oft, picks out the worm, 
 and brings present remedy. The fish, glad of ease, but 
 ingrateful to her that did it, that the bird may not talk 
 largely of her abroad for non-payment, closeth her chaps, 
 
SCENE III] • THE WHITE DEVIL 95 
 
 intending to swallow her, and so put her to perpetual 
 silence. But nature, loathing such ingratitude, hath 
 armed this bird with a quill or prick on the head, top 
 o' th' which wounds the crocodile i' th' mouth, forceth 
 her open her bloody prison, and away flies the pretty 
 tooth-picker from her cruel patient. 161 
 
 Brack. Your application is, I have not rewarded 
 The service you have done me. 
 
 Flam. No, my lord. 
 
 You, sister, are the crocodile : you are blemished in your 
 fame, my lord cures it ; and though the comparison hold 
 not in every particle, yet observe, remember, what good 
 the bird with the prick i' th' head hath done you, and 
 scorn ingratitude. 
 
 [Aside.] It may appear to some ridiculous 
 Thus to talk knave and madman, and sometimes 170 
 
 Come in with a dried sentence, stuffed with sage: 
 But this allows my varying of shapes ; 
 Knaves do grow great by being great men's apes. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
 Scene III° 
 
 Enter Francisco, Lodovico, Gasparo, and six 
 Ambassadors 
 
 Fran. So, my lord, I commend your diligence. 
 Guard well the conclave ; and, as the order is, 
 Let none have conference with the cardinals. 
 
 Lod. I shall, my lord. Room for the ambassadors ! 
 Gasp. They're wondrous brave to-day: why do they 
 wear 
 These several habits ? 
 
 Lod. O, sir, they're knights 
 
 Of several orders : 
 
 That lord i' th' black cloak, with the silver cross, 
 s Knight of Rhodes; the next. Knight of St. Michael; 
 That, of the Golden Fleece ; the Frenchman, there, to 
 
96 THE WHITE DEVIL [act iv 
 
 Kiiight of the Holy Ghost ; my lord of Savoy, 
 
 Knight of th' Annunciation ; the Enghshinan 
 
 Is Knight of th' honoured Garter, dedicated 
 
 Unto their Saint, St. George. I could describe to you 
 
 Their several institutions, ^^'ith the laws 
 
 Annexed to their orders ; but that time 
 
 Permits not such discovery. 
 
 Fran. Where's count Lodowick ? 
 
 Lod. Here, my lord. ' 
 
 Fran. 'Tis o' th' point of dinner time ; 
 
 Marshal the cardinals' ser\T[ce. i 
 
 Lod. Sir, I shall. J 
 
 Enter Servants, unth several dishes covered 
 
 Stand, let me search your dish. Who's this for ? 20 
 
 Senant. For my lord cardinal Monticelso. 
 
 Lod. W^hose this ? 
 
 Sercan4. For my lord cardinal of Bourbon. 
 
 Fr. Amb. Why doth he search the dishes? to observe 
 What meat is dressed? 
 
 Eng. Amb. Xo, sir, but to prevent 
 
 Lest any letters should be conveyed in, 
 To bribe or to solicit the advancement 
 Of any cardinal. W^hen tirst they enter, 
 'Tis lawful for the ambassadors of princes 
 To enter with them, and to make their suit 
 For any man their prince affecteth best ; 30 
 
 But after, till a general election. 
 No man may speak with them. 
 
 Lod. You that attend on the lord cardinals. 
 Open the window, and receive their \'iands. 
 
 Cardinal [from the zvindow]. You must return the j 
 sers-ice : the lord cardinals 
 Are busied 'bout electing of the Pope ; 
 They have given o'er scrutiny, and are fallen 
 To admiration." 
 
SCENE III] THE WHITE DEVIL 97 
 
 Lod. Away, away! 
 
 Fran. I'll lay a thousand ducats you hear news 
 
 [Enter Cardinal Arragon on the terrace. 
 Of a Pope presently. Hark ; sure he's elected : 40 
 
 Behold, my lord of Arragon appears 
 On the church battlements. 
 
 Arragon. Denunlio vobis gaudium magnum: Reve- 
 rendissimus cardindis Lorenzo de Monticelso electus est in 
 sedem apostolicam, et elegit sibi nomen Paulum Quartum.^ 
 
 Omnes. Vivat sanctus pater Paulus Qiiarttis ! 
 
 Enter Servant 
 
 Servant. Vittoria, my lord — 
 
 Fran. Well, what of her ? 
 
 Servant. Is fled the city. 
 
 Fran. Ha ! 
 
 Servant. With duke Brachiano. 
 
 Fran. Fled ! where's the prince Giovanni ? 
 
 Servant. Gone with his father. 
 
 Fran. Let the matrona of the convertites 5° 
 
 Be apprehended. Fled ? O damnable ! [Exit Servant. 
 How fortunate are my wishes ! why, t'was this 
 
 only laboured : I did send the letter 
 T'instruct him what to do. Thy fame, fond duke, 
 I first have poisoned ; directed thee the way 
 To marry a whore ; what can be worse ? this follows : 
 The hand must act to drown the passionate tongue, 
 
 scorn to wear a sword and prate of wrong. 
 
 Enter Monticelso in state 
 
 Mont. Concedimus vobis apostolicam benedictionem^ 
 i remissionem peccatorum.^ 60 
 
 Ay lord reports Vittoria Corombona 
 s stol'n from forth the house of convertites 
 \y Brachiano, and they're fled the city. 
 
 Wow, though this be the first day of our seat, 
 
 mt cannot better please the divine power, 
 
98 THE WHITE DEVIL [act iv 
 
 Than to sequester from the holy church 
 
 These cursed persons. Make it therefore known, 
 
 We do denounce excommunication 
 
 Against them both : all that are theirs in Rome 
 
 We likewise banish. Set on. [Exeunt. 
 
 Fran. Come, dear Lodovico ; 70 
 
 You have ta'en the sacrament to prosecute 
 Th' intended murder. 
 
 Lod. With all constancy. 
 
 But, sir, I wonder you'll engage yourself 
 In person, being a great prince. 
 
 Fran. Divert me not. 
 
 Most of his court are of my faction. 
 And some are of my council. Noble friend. 
 Our danger shall be like in this design : 
 Give leave part of the glory may be mine. 
 
 [Exit Francisco. 
 
 Enter Monticelso 
 
 Mont. Why did the duke of Florence with such care 
 Labour your pardon ? say. 80 
 
 Lod. Italian beggars will resolve you that. 
 Who, begging of an alms, bid those they beg of 
 Do good for their own sakes ; or't may be. 
 He spreads his bounty with a sowing hand. 
 Like kings, who many times give out of measure, 
 Not for desert so much, as for their pleasure. 
 
 Mont. I know you're cunning. Come, what devil 
 was that 
 That you were raising ? 
 
 Lod. Devil, my lord ? 
 
 Mont. I ask you, 
 
 How doth the duke employ you, that his bonnet 
 Fell with such compliment unto his knee. 
 When he departed from you ? 
 
 Lod. Why, my lord, 
 
 He told me of a resty Barbary horse 
 
SCENE III] THE WHITE DEVIL 99 
 
 Which he would fain have brought to the career, 
 The sault, and the ring galUard : " now, my lord, 
 I have a rare French rider. 
 
 Mont. Take you heed, 
 
 Lest the jade break your neck. Do you put me off 
 With your wild horse-tricks ? Sirrah, you do lie. 
 O, thou'rt a foul black cloud, and thou dost threat 
 A violent storm ! 
 
 Lod. Storms are i' th' air, my lord ; 
 
 I am too low to storm. 
 
 Mont. Wretched creature ! 100 
 
 I know that thou art fashioned for all ill, 
 Like dogs, that once get blood, they'll ever kill. 
 About some murder, was't not ? 
 
 Lod. I'll not tell you : 
 
 And yet I care not greatly if I do ; 
 Marry, with this preparation. Holy father, 
 I come not to you as an intelligencer, 
 But as a penitent sinner : what I utter 
 Is in confession merely ; which, you know, 
 Must never be revealed. 
 
 Mont. You have o'erta'en me. 
 
 Lod. Sir, I did love Brachiano's duchess dearly, na 
 Or rather I pursued her with hot lust. 
 Though she ne'er knew on't. She was poisoned ; 
 Upon my soul she was : for which I have sworn 
 T' avenge her murder. 
 
 Mont. To the duke of Florence ? 
 
 Lod. To him I have. 
 
 Mont. Miserable creature 1 
 
 If thou persist in this, 'tis damnable. 
 Dost thou imagine, thou canst slide on blood, 
 And not be tainted with a shameful fall ? 
 Or, like the black and melancholic yew-tree. 
 Dost think to root thyself in dead men's graves, 120 
 
 And yet to prosper ? Instruction to thee 
 Comes like sweet showers to o'er-hardened ground ; 
 
lOO THE WHITE DEVIL [act iv 
 
 They wet, but pierce not deep. And so I leave thee, 
 
 With all the furies hanging 'bout thy neck, 
 
 Till by thy penitence thou remove this evil. 
 
 In conjuring from thy breast that cruel devil. [Exit. 
 
 Lod. I'll give it o'er; he says 'tis damnable: 
 Besides I did expect his suffrage. 
 By reason of Camillo's death. 
 
 Enter Servant and Francisco 
 
 Fran. Do you know that count ? 
 
 Servant. Yes, my lord. 130 
 
 Fran. Bear him these thousand ducats to his lodging ; 
 Tell him the Pope hath sent them. Happily 
 That will confirm more than all the rest. [Exit. 
 
 Servant. Sir — 
 
 Lod. To me, sir ? 
 
 Servant. His Holiness hath sent you a thousand 
 crowns, 
 And wills you, if you travel, to make him 
 Your patron for intelligence. 
 
 Lod. His creature ever to be commanded. — 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 Why now 'tis come about. He railed upon me ; 
 And yet these crowns were told out, and laid ready, 140 
 Before he knew my voyage. O the art. 
 The modest form of greatness ! that do sit, 
 Like brides at wedding-dinners, with their looks turned 
 From the least wanton jest, their puling stomach 
 Sick of the modesty, when their thoughts are loose, . 
 Even acting of those hot and lustful sports 
 Are to ensue about midnight : such his cunning ! 
 He sounds my depth thus with a golden plummet. 
 I am doubly armed now. Now to th' act of blood. 
 There's but three furies found in spacious hell, 15° 
 
 But in a great man's breast three thousand dwell. [Exit. 
 
ACT THE FIFTH 
 
 Scene I ° 
 
 A passage over the stage of Brachtano, Flamineo, Mar- 
 cello, HORTENSIO, VlTTORLA, CORNELIA, ZaNCHE, 
 
 and others: Flamineo and Hortensio remain 
 
 Flam. In all the weary minutes of my life, 
 Day ne'er broke up till now. This marriage 
 Confirms me happy. 
 
 Hort. 'Tis a good assurance. 
 
 Saw you not yet the Moor that's come to court ? 
 
 Flam. Yes, and conferred with him i' th' duke's closet. 
 I have not seen a goodlier personage, 
 Nor ever talked with man better experienced 
 In state affairs, or rudiments of war. 
 He hath, by report, served the Venetian 
 In Candy these twice seven years, and been chief lo 
 
 In many a bold design. 
 
 Hort. What are those two 
 
 That bear him company ? 
 
 Flam. Two noblemen of Hungary, that, living in the 
 emperor's service as commanders, eight years since, con- 
 trary to the expectation of all the court, entered into re- 
 ligion, into the strict order of Capuchins ; but, being not 
 well settled in their undertaking, they left their order, 
 and returned to court; for which, being after troubled 
 in conscience, they vowed their service against the ene- 
 mies of Christ, went to Malta, were there knighted, and 
 in their return back, at this great solemnity, they are 
 resolved for ever to forsake the world, and settle them- 
 selves here in a house of Capuchins in Padua. 23 
 
 Hort. 'Tis strange. 
 
102 THE WHITE DEVIL [act v 
 
 Flam. One thing makes it so : they have vowed for 
 ever to wear, next their bare bodies, those coats of mail 
 they served in. 
 
 Hort. Hard penance ! Is the Moor a Christian ? 
 
 Flam. He is. 
 
 Hort. Why proffers he his service to our duke ? 30 
 
 Flam. Because he understands there's like to grow 
 Some wars between us and the duke of Florence, 
 In which he hopes employment. 
 I never saw one in a stern bold look 
 Wear more command, nor in a lofty phrase 
 Express more knowing, or more deep contempt 
 Of our sHght airy courtiers. He talks 
 As if he had travelled all the princes' courts 
 Of Christendom : in all things strives t'express, 
 That all, that should dispute with him, may know, 40 
 Glories, like glow-worms, afar off shine bright. 
 But looked to near, have neither heat nor light. 
 The duke! 
 
 Enter Brachiano, Francisco disguised like Mulinas- 
 SAR, LoDOvico and Gasparo, disguised as Carlo and 
 Pettro, hearing their swords, their helmets down, 
 Antonelli, Farnese. 
 
 Brach. You are nobly welcome. We have heard at full I 
 Your honourable service 'gainst the Turk. 
 To you, brave Mulinassar, we assign 
 A competent pension : and are inly sorry, 
 The vows of those two worthy gentlemen 
 Make them incapable of our proffered bounty. 
 Your wish is, you may leave your warlike swords 5° 
 
 For monuments in our chapel : I accept it, 
 As a great honour done me, and must crave 
 Your leave to furnish out our duchess' revels." 
 Only one thing, at the last vanity 
 You e'er shall view, deny me not to stay 
 
SCENE I] THE WHITE DEVIL IO3 
 
 To see a barriers prepared to-night : 
 
 You shall have private standings. It hath pleased 
 
 The great ambassadors of several princes, 
 
 In their return from Rome to their own countries, 
 
 To grace our marriage, and to honour me 60 
 
 With such a kind of sport. 
 
 Fran. I shall persuade them 
 
 To stay, my lord. 
 
 Brack. Set on there to the presence. 
 
 [Exeunt Brachiano, Flamineo, and Hortensio. 
 
 Lod. Noble my lord, most fortunately welcome ; 
 
 [The Conspirators here embrace. 
 You have our vows, sealed with the sacrament. 
 To second your attempts. 
 
 Gas. And all things ready ; 
 
 He could not have invented his own ruin 
 (Had he despaired) with more propriety. 
 
 Lod. You would not take my way. 
 
 Fran. 'Tis better ordered. 
 
 Lod. T' have poisoned his prayer-book, or a pair of 
 beads," 
 
 he pummel of his saddle, his looking-glass, 7° 
 
 Or th' handle of his racket, — O that, that ! 
 That while he had been bandying at tennis. 
 He might have sworn himself to hell, and strook 
 His soul into the hazard ! O my lord, 
 [ would have our plot be ingenious, 
 A.nd have it hereafter recorded for example, 
 Rather than borrow example. 
 
 Fran. There's no way 
 
 More speeding than this thought on. 
 
 Lod. On, then. 
 
 Fran. And yet methinks that this revenge is poor. 
 Because it steals upon him Hke a thief : 80 
 
 To have ta'en him by the casque in a pitched field, 
 L^ed him to Florence — 
 
 Lod. It had been rare : and there 
 
 I 
 
104 THE WHITE DEVIL [act v 
 
 Have crowned him with a wreath of stinking garUc ; 
 T' have shown the sharpness of his government, 
 And rankness of his lust. Flamineo comes. 
 
 [Exeunt Lodovico, Antonelli, and Gasparo. 
 
 Enter Flamineo, Marcello, and Zanche 
 
 Mar, Why doth this devil haunt you, say ? 
 
 Flam. I know not : 
 
 For by this Hght, I do not conjure for her. 
 'Tis not so great a cunning as men think. 
 To raise the devil ; for here's one up already ; 
 The greatest cunning were to lay him down. 9c 
 
 Mar. She is your shame. 
 
 Flam. I prithee pardon her. 
 
 In faith, you see, women are like to burs, 
 Where their affection throws them, there they'll stick. 
 
 Zan. That is my countryman," a goodly person ; 
 When he's at leisure, I'll discourse with him 
 In our own language. 
 
 Flam. I beseech you do. [Exit Zanche. 
 
 How is't, brave soldier ? O that I had seen 
 Some of your iron days ! I pray relate 
 Some of your service to us. 
 
 Fran. 'Tis a ridiculous thing for a man to be his own 
 chronicle: I did never wash my mouth with mine own 
 praise, for fear of getting a stinking breath. i 
 
 Mar. You're too stoical. The duke will expect other 
 discourse from you. 
 
 Fran. I shall never flatter him: I have studied man 
 too much to do that. What difference is between the 
 duke and I ? no more than between two bricks, all made 
 of one clay : only't may be one is placed on the top of a 
 turret, the other in the bottom of a well, by mere chance. 
 If I were placed as high as the duke, I should stick as 
 fast, make as fair a show, and bear out weather equally. 
 
 Flam. [Aside.] If this soldier had a patent to beg in 
 churches, then he would tell them stories. 113 
 
SCENE I] THE WHITE DEVIL I05 
 
 Mar. I have been a soldier, too. 
 
 Fran. How have you thrived ? 
 
 Mar. Faith, poorly. 
 
 Fran. That's the misery of peace : only outsides are 
 then respected. As ships seem very great upon the 
 river, which show^ very little upon the seas, so some men 
 i' th' court seem Colossuses in a chamber, who, if they 
 came into the field, would appear pitiful pigmies. 121 
 
 Flam. Give me a fair room yet hung w^ith arras, and 
 some great cardinal to lug me by th' ears, as his endeared 
 minion. 
 
 Fran. And thou mayest do the devil knows what 
 villainy. 
 
 Flam. And safely. 
 
 Fran. Right : you shall see in the country, in harvest- 
 time, pigeons, though they destroy never so much corn, 
 the farmer dare not present the fowling-piece to them: 
 why? because they belong to the lord of the manor; 
 whilst your poor sparrows, that belong to the lord of 
 heaven, they go to the pot for't. 133 
 
 Flam. I will now give you some politic instructions. 
 The duke says he will give you pension; that's but 
 bare promise ; get it under his hand. For I have 
 known men that have come from serving against the 
 Turk, for three or four months they have had pension 
 to buy them new wooden legs, and fresh plasters ; but 
 after, 'twas not to be had. And this miserable courtesy 
 shows as if a tormentor should give hot cordial drinks 
 to one three quarters dead o' th' rack, only to fetch the 
 miserable soul again to endure more dog-days. 143 
 
 \ '— ■ 
 
 Enter Hortensio, a Young Lord, Zanche, 
 and two more 
 
 How now, gallants ? what, are they ready for the barriers ? 
 Young Lord. Yes : the lords are putting on their 
 armour. 
 
I06 THE WHITE DEVIL [act v 
 
 Hort. What's he? 
 
 Flam, A new upstart; one that swears like a fal- 
 coner, and will lie in the duke's ear day by day, like a 
 maker of almanacs; and yet I knew him, since he 
 came to th' court, smell worse of sweat than an under 
 tennis-court keeper. 152 
 
 Hort. Look you, yonder's your sweet mistress. 
 
 Flam. Thou art my sworn brother : I'll tell thee, I do 
 love that Moor, that witch, very constrainedly. She 
 knows some of my villainy. I do love her just as a man 
 holds a wolf by the ears; but for fear of her turning | 
 upon me, and pulling out my throat, T wc5uld let herr 
 go to the devil. 
 
 Hort. I hear she claims marriage of thee. 1605 
 
 Flam. 'Faith, I made to her some such dark promise;: 
 and, in seeking to fly from't, I run on, like a frighted! 
 dog with a bottle at's tail, that fain would bite it off, and I 
 yet dares not look behind him. Now, my precious gipsy. 
 
 Zan. Aye, your love to me rather cools than heats. 
 
 Flam. Marry, I am the sounder lover ; we have many 
 wenches about the town heat too fast. 
 
 Hort. What do you think of these perfumed gallants, 
 then? 
 
 Flam. Their satin cannot save them : I am confident! 
 They have a certain spice of the disease ; 171 
 
 For they that sleep with dogs shall rise with fleas. 
 
 Zan. Believe it, a little painting and gay clothes; 
 make you love me. 
 
 Flam. How ! love a lady for painting or gay apparel r 
 I'll unkennel one example more for thee, ^sop had a 
 foolish dog that let go the flesh to catch the shadow ; ] 
 would have courtiers be better divers. 
 
 Zan. You remember your oaths ? i7<; 
 
 Flam. Lovers' oaths are Hke mariners' prayers; 
 uttered in extremity ; but when the tempest is o'er, and 
 that the vessel leaves tumbling, they fall from pro- 
 testing to drinking." And yet, amongst gentlemen, pro 
 
SCENE I] THE WHITE DEVIL I07 
 
 testing and drinking go together, and agree as well as 
 shoemakers and Westphalia bacon: .they are both 
 drawers on ; for drink draws on protestation, and pro- 
 testation draws on more drink. Is not this discourse 
 better now than the morality of your sunburnt gentle- 
 man? 
 
 Enter Cornelia 
 
 Cor. Is this your perch, you haggard ? fly to th' stews. 
 
 [Striking Zanche. 
 
 Flam. You should be clapped by th' heels " now : strike 
 i' th' court ! [Exit Cornelia. 191 
 
 Zan. She's good for nothing, but to make her maids 
 
 atch cold a-nights : they dare not use a bedstaff, 
 For fear of her light fingers. 
 
 Mar. You're a strumpet, 
 
 \n impudent one. 
 
 Flam. Why do you kick her, say ? 
 
 Do you think that she's like a walnut-tree ? 
 Vlust she be cudgelled ere she bear good fruit ? 
 
 Mar. She brags that you shall marry her. 
 
 Flam. What then ? 
 
 Mar. I had rather she were pitched upon a stake, 
 i|li some new-seeded garden, to affright 200 
 
 ler fellow crows thence. 
 
 Flam. You're a boy, a fool, 
 
 •e guardian to your hound ; I am of age. 
 
 Mar. If I take her near you, I'll cut her throat. 
 
 Flam. With a fan of feathers ? 
 
 Mar. And, for you, I'll whip 
 
 'his folly from you. 
 
 Flam. Are you choleric ? 
 
 11 purge't with rhubarb. 
 
 Hort. O, your brother ! 
 
 Flam. ' Hang him, 
 
 e wrongs me most, that ought t'offend me least : 
 
 do suspect my mother played foul play. 
 
I08 THE WHITE DEVIL [act v 
 
 When she conceived thee. 
 
 Mar. Now, by all my hopes, 
 
 Like the two slaughtered sons of (Edipus, 210 
 
 The very flames of our affection 
 
 Shall turn two ways. Those words I'll make thee answer 
 With thy heart blood. 
 
 Flam. Do, like the geese in the progress ; 
 
 You know where you shall find me. 
 
 Mar. Very good. [Exit Flamineo. 
 
 And thou be'st a noble friend, bear him my sword, 
 And bid him fit the length on't. 
 
 Young Lord. Sir, I shall. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Zanche. 
 
 Zan. He comes. Hence petty thought of my disgrace ! 
 
 Enter Francisco 
 
 I ne'er loved my complexion till now, 
 
 'Cause I may boldly say, without a blush, 
 
 I love you. 22c 
 
 Fran. Your love is untimely sown; there's a spring 
 at Michaelmas, but 'tis but a faint one: I am sunk in 
 years, and I have vowed never to marry. 
 
 Za7t. Alas ! poor maids get more lovers than hus 
 bands : yet you may mistake my wealth. For, as wher 
 ambassadors are sent to congratulate princes, there's 
 commonly sent along with them a rich present, so that 
 though the prince Hke not the ambassador's person, no: 
 words, yet he likes well of the presentment; so I ma] 
 come to you in the same manner, and be better lovec 
 for my dowry than my virtue. • 23 
 
 Fran. I'll think on the motion. 
 
 Zan. Do ; I'll now detain you no longer. At you 
 better leisure, I'll tell you things shall startle your blood 
 Nor blame me that this passion I reveal ; 
 Lovers die inward that their flames conceal. [Exii 
 
 Fran. Of all intelligence this may prove the best 
 Sure I shall draw strange fowl from this foul nest. [E. 
 
 i 
 
SCENE II] THE WHITE DEVIL 109 
 
 Scene II '^ 
 
 Enter Marcello and Cornelia 
 
 Cor. I hear a whispering all about the court, 
 You are to fight : who is your opposite ? 
 What is the quarrel ? 
 
 Mar. 'Tis an idle rumour. 
 
 Cor. Will you dissemble ? sure you do not well 
 To fright me thus : you never look thus pale, 
 But when you are most angry. I do charge you, 
 Upon my blessing — nay, I'll call the duke, 
 And he shall school you. 
 
 Mar. Publish not a fear, 
 
 Which would convert to laughter : 'tis not so. 
 Was not this crucifix my father's ? ^ 
 
 Cor. Yes. 10 
 
 Mar. I have heard you say, giving my brother suck, 
 He took the crucifix between his hands. 
 
 Enter Flamineo 
 
 \nd broke a hmb off. 
 Cor. Yes, but 'tis mended. 
 
 Flam. I have brought your weapon back. 
 
 [Flamineo runs Marcello through. 
 Cor. Ha ! O my horror ! 
 
 Mar. You have brought it home, indeed. 
 Cor. Help ! O, he's murdered ! 
 
 Flam. Do you turn your gall up ? I'll to sanctuary, 
 md send a surgeon to you. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Lodovico, Hortensio, and Gasparo 
 
 Hort. How ! o' th' ground ! 
 
 Mar. O mother, now remember what I told 
 •f breaking of 1±Le crucifix ! Farewell. 
 
no THE WHITE DEVIL [act v 
 
 There are some sins, which heaven doth duly punish 
 
 In a whole family. This it is to rise 21 
 
 By all dishonest means ! Let all men know, 
 
 That tree shall long time keep a steady foot. 
 
 Whose branches spread no wider than the root. [Dies. 
 
 Cor. O my perpetual sorrow ! 
 
 Hort. Virtuous Marcello ! 
 
 He's dead. Pray leave him, lady : come, you shall. 
 
 Cor. Alas ! he is not dead ; he's in a trance. Why, 
 here's nobody shall get anything by his death. Let me 
 call him again, for God's sake ! 
 
 Lod. I would you were deceived. 3° 
 
 Cor. O, you abuse me, you abuse me, you abuse me 
 how many have gone away thus, for lack of 'tendance 
 rear up's head, rear up's head ! his bleeding inward will 
 kill him. 
 
 Hort. You see he is departed. 
 
 Cor. Let me come to him ; give me him as he is ; 
 he be turned to earth, let me but give him one hearty kiss, 
 and you shall put us both into one cofhn. Fetch 
 looking-glass : see if his breath will not stain it ; or pull 
 out some feathers from my pillow, and lay them to his 
 lips. Will you lose him for a little painstaking ? 41 
 
 Hort. Your kindest ofifice is to pray for him. 
 
 Cor. Alas ! I would not pray for him yet. He may 
 live to lay me i' th' ground, and pray for me, if you'll 
 let me come to him. 
 
 Enter Brachiano, all armed, save the beaver ^ with 
 Flamineo, Francisco, and Page 
 
 Brack. Was this your handiwork ? 
 Flam. It was my misfortune. 
 Cor. He lies, he Hes ! he did not kill him: these have 
 killed him, that would not let him be better looked to. 
 Brack. Have comfort, my grieved mother. 5j 
 
 Cor. O you screech-owl ! 
 
SCENE u] THE WHITE DEVIL lU 
 
 Hort. Forbear, good madam. 
 
 Cor. Let me go, let me go. 
 
 [She runs to Flamineo with her knife drawn, 
 and coming to him lets it fall. 
 The God of Heaven forgive thee ! Dost not wonder 
 I pray for thee ? I'll tell thee what's the reason 
 I have scarce breath to number twenty minutes ; 
 I'd not spend that in cursing. Fare thee well : 
 Half of thyself hes there ; and may'st thou Uve 
 To fill an hour-glass with his mouldered ashes, 
 To tell how thou should'st spend the time to come 60 
 In blessed repentance ! 
 
 Brach. Mother, pray tell me 
 
 How came he by his death ? what was the quarrel ? 
 
 Cor. Indeed, my younger boy presumed too much 
 Upon his manhood, gave him bitter words. 
 Drew his sword first ; and so, I know not how. 
 For I was out of my wits, he fell with's head 
 Just in my bosom. 
 
 Page. This is not true, madam. 
 
 Cor. I pray thee, peace. 
 One arrow's grazed '^ already ; it were vain 
 T' lose this, for that will ne'er be found again. 70 
 
 Brach. Go, bear the body to Cornelia's lodging : 
 And we command that none acquaint our duchess 
 With this sad accident. For you, Flamineo, 
 Hark you, I will not grant your pardon. 
 
 Flam. No ? 
 
 Brach. Only a lease of your life ; and that shall last 
 But for one day : thou shalt be forced each evening 
 To renew it, or be hanged. 
 
 Flam. At your pleasure. 
 
 LoDOvico sprinkles Brachiano's beaver with a poison. 
 i^our will is law now, I'll not meddle with it. 
 
 Brach. You once did brave me in your sister's lodging : 
 ['11 now keep you in awe for't. Where's our beaver. 80 
 
 Fran. [Aside.] He calls for his destruction. Noble youth, 
 
112 THE WHITE DEVIL [act v 
 
 I pity thy sad fate ! Now to the barriers. 
 
 This shall his passage to the black lake further ; 
 
 The last good deed he did, he pardoned murder. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III 
 
 Charges and shouts. They fight at barriers; first single 
 pairs f then three to three 
 
 Enter Brachiano and Flamineo, with others 
 
 Brach. An armourer ! ud's death, an armourer ! 
 
 Flam. Armourer ! where's the armourer ? 
 
 Brach. Tear off my beaver. 
 
 Flam. Are you hurt, my lord ? 
 
 Brach. O, my brain's on fire ! 
 
 Enter Armourer 
 
 The helmet is poisoned. 
 
 Armourer. My lord, upon my soul — 
 
 Brach. Away with him to torture. 
 There are some great ones that have hand in this, 
 And near about me. 
 
 Enter Vittoria Corombona 
 
 Vit. O, my loved lord ! poisoned ! 
 
 Flam. Remove the bar. Here's unfortunate revels 
 Call the physicians. A plague upon you ! 
 
 Enter two Physicians 
 
 We have too much of your cunning here already : 
 I fear the ambassadors are Hkewise poisoned. 
 
 Brach. O, I am gone already ! the infection 
 FKes to the brain and heart. O thou strong heart ! 
 There's such a covenant 'tween the world and it, 
 They're loath to break. 
 
5CENEIII] THE WHITE DEVIL 113 
 
 i 
 
 Enter Giovanni 
 
 Giov. O my most loved father ! 
 
 Brack. Remove the boy away. 
 Agere's this good woman ? Had I infinite worlds, 
 rhey were too little for thee : must I leave thee ? 
 ^hat say you, screech-owls, is the venom mortal ? 20 
 
 Phys. Most deadly. 
 
 Brack. Most corrupted pohtic hangman, 
 
 iTou kill without book ; but your art to save 
 ails you as oft as great men's needy friends. 
 
 that have given Ufe to offending slaves, 
 ^nd wretched murderers, have I not power 
 ?o lengthen mine own a twelvemonth ? 
 )o not kiss me, for I shall poison thee 
 ?his unction is sent from the great duke of Florence. 
 
 Fran. Sir, be of comfort. 
 
 Brack. O thou soft natural death, that art joint twin 
 'o sweetest slumber ! no rough-bearded comet 31 
 
 tares on thy mild departure ; the dull owl 
 Jeats not against thy casement ; the hoarse wolf 
 cents not thy carrion : pity mnds thy corse, 
 Vhilst horror waits on princes. 
 
 Vit. I am lost for ever. 
 
 Brack. How miserable a thing it is to die 
 Mongst women howling ! 
 
 Enter LoDOvico and Gasparo, as Capuckins 
 
 What are those ? 
 Flam. Franciscans : 
 
 i'hey have brought the extreme unction. 
 
 Brack. On pain of death, let no man name death to me : 
 t is a word infinitely terrible. 40 
 
 Vithdraw into our cabinet. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Francisco and Flamineo. 
 Flam. To see what soUtariness is about dying princes ! 
 
114 THE WHITE DEVIL [act v 
 
 as heretofore they have unpeopled towns, divorced 
 friends, and made great houses unhospitable, so now, 
 O justice ! where are their flatterers now ? flatterers are 
 but the shadows of princes' bodies ; the least thick cloud 
 makes them invisible. 
 
 Fran, There's great moan made for him. 
 
 Flam. 'Faith, for some few hours salt-water will run 
 most plentifully in every office o' th' court ; but, believe it 
 most of them do but weep over their stepmothers' graves. 
 
 Fran. How mean you ? 52 
 
 Flam. Why, they dissemble; as some men do that 
 live within compass o' th' verge." 
 
 Fran. Come, you have thrived well under him. 
 
 Flam. 'Faith, like a wolf in a woman's breast ; ° I have 
 been fed with poultry : but, for money, understand me, I 
 had as good a will to cozen him as e'er an officer of 
 them all ; but I had not cunning enough to do it. 
 
 Fran. WTiat didst thou think of him? 'faith, speak 
 freely. 61 
 
 Flam. He was a kind of statesman, that would sooner 
 have reckoned how many cannon-bullets he had dis- 
 charged against a town, to count his expense that way, 
 than how many of his valiant and deserving subjects he 
 lost before it. 
 
 Fran. O, speak well of the duke ! 
 
 Flam. I have done. Wilt hear some of my court-; 
 wisdom ? 
 
 Enter Lodovico 
 
 To reprehend princes is dangerous; and to over- 
 commend some of them is palpable lying. p 
 
 Fran. How is it with the duke ? 
 
 Lod. Most deadly ill. 
 
 He's fall'n into a strange distraction : 
 He talks of battles and monopolies. 
 Levying of taxes ; and from that descends 
 To the most brainsick language. His mind fastens 
 
SCENE III] THE WHITE WEVIL II5 
 
 Or twenty several objects, which confound 
 
 Deep sense with folly. Such a fearful end 
 
 May teach some men that bear too lofty crest, 
 
 Though they live happiest yet they die not best. 80 
 
 He hath conferred the whole state of the dukedom 
 
 Upon your sister, till the prince arrive 
 
 At mature age. 
 
 Flam. There's some good luck in that yet. 
 
 Fran. See, here he comes. 
 
 Enter Brachiano, presented in a bed, Vittoria, 
 and others 
 
 There's death in's face already. 
 Vit. O my good lord ! 
 
 Brack. Away, you have abused me : 
 
 [These speeches are several kinds oj distractions 
 and in the action should appear so. 
 You have conveyed coin forth our territories, 
 Bought and sold offices, oppressed the poor, 
 And I ne'er dreamt on't. Make up your accounts, 
 I'll now be mine own steward. 
 
 Flam. Sir, have patience. 
 
 Brach. Indeed, I am to blame : 90 
 
 For did you ever hear the dusky raven 
 Chide blackness ? or was't ever known the devil 
 Railed against cloven creatures ? 
 
 Vit. O my lord ! 
 
 Brach. Let me have some quails to supper. 
 Flam. Sir, you shall. 
 
 Brach. No, some fried dog-fish ; your quails feed on 
 poison. 
 
 That old dog-fox, that politician, Florence ! 
 I'll forswear hunting, and turn dog-killer. 
 Rare ! I'll be friends with him ; for, mark you, sir, one 
 
 dog 
 Still sets another a-barking. Peace, peace! 
 
Il6 THE WHITE DEVIL [act v 
 
 Yondcr's a fine slave come in now. 
 
 Flafti. Where? 
 
 Brach. Why, there, loo 
 
 In a bkie bonnet, and a pair of breeches 
 With a great cod-piece : ha, ha, ha ! 
 Look you, his cod-piece is stuck full of pins, 
 With pearls o' th' head of them. Do not you know him ? 
 
 Flam. No, my lord. 
 
 Brach. Why 'tis the deNil. 
 
 I know him by a great rose he wears on's shoe, 
 To hide his cloven foot. I'll dispute with him ; 
 He's a rare linguist. 
 
 VH. My lord, here's nothing. 
 
 Brach. Nothing ! rare ! nothing ! when I want money, 
 Our treasury is empty, tliere is nothing : no 
 
 I'll not be used thus. 
 
 17/. O, lie still, my lord ! 
 
 Brach. See, see Flamineo, that killed his brother, 
 Is dancing on the ropes there, and he carries 
 A money-bag in each hand, to keep him even, 
 For fear of breaking's neck : and there's a la\vyer, 
 In a gown whipped with velvet," stares and gapes 
 When the money will fall. How the rogue cuts capers ! 
 It should have been in a halter. 
 'Tis there ; what's she ? 
 
 Flam. Vittoria, my lord. 
 
 Brach. Ha, ha, ha ! her hair is sprinkled with arras- 
 powder, i-^o 
 That makes her look as if she had sinned in the pastry. 
 What's he ? 
 
 Flam. A di\^ne, my lord. 
 
 [Brachi-\no seems here near his end; LoDOVico a)id 
 Gasp-\ro, in the habit of Capuchins, present him^ 
 in his bed with a crucifix and hallowed candle. 
 
 Brach. He will be drunk ; avoid him : th' argument 
 Is fearful, when churchmen stagger in't." 
 Look you, six grey rats that have lost their tails 
 
SCENE III] THE WHITE DEVIL II7 
 
 Crawl up the pillow ; send for a rat-catcher : 
 
 I'll do a miracle, I'll free the court 
 
 From all foul vermin. Where's Flamineo ? 
 
 Flam. I do not hke that he names me so often, 
 Especially on's death-bed ; 'tis a sign 130 
 
 I shall not live long. See, he's near his end. 
 
 Lod. Pray, give us leave. Attende, domine Brachiane. 
 
 Flam. See, see how firmly he doth fix his eye 
 Upon the crucifix. 
 
 Vit. O, hold it constant ! 
 
 It settles his wild spirits ; and so his eyes 
 Melt into tears. 
 
 Lod. Domine Brachiane, solehas in bello tutus esse tuo 
 clypeo; nunc hunc clypeum hosti tuo opponas injernali. 
 
 [By the crucifix. 
 
 Gas. Olim hastd valuisti in bello; nunc hanc sacram 
 hastam vibrabis contra hostem animarum. 140 
 
 [By the hallowed taper. 
 
 Lod. Attende, domine Brachiane, si nunc quoque probas 
 ea, qucB acta sunt inter nos, flecte caput in dextrum. 
 
 Gas. Esto securus, domine Brachiane; cogita, quantum 
 habeas meritorum; denique memineris meam animam 
 pro tud oppignoratam si quid esset periculi. 
 
 Lod. Si nunc quoque probas ea, quae acta sunt inter 
 nos, flecte caput in Icevum.^ 
 He is departing : pray stand all apart, 
 And let us only whisper in his ears 
 5ome private meditations, which our order 150 
 
 Permits you not to hear. 
 
 [Here, the rest being departed, Lodovico and 
 Gasparo discover themselves. 
 
 Gas. Brachiano. 
 
 Lod. Devil Brachiano, thou art damned. 
 
 Gas. Perpetually. 
 
 Lod. A slave condemned and given up to the gallows, 
 s thy great lord and master. 
 
 Gas. ^ True ; for thou 
 
 i 
 
Il8 ' THE WHITE DEVIL [act v 
 
 Art given up to the devil. 
 
 Lod. O you slave ! 
 
 You that were held the famous politician, 
 Whose art was poison! 
 
 Gas. And whose conscience, murder. 
 
 ■ Lod. That would have broke your wife's neck down 
 the stairs, 
 Ere she was poisoned! 
 
 Gas. That had your villainous sallets. 
 
 Lod. And fine embroidered bottles, and perfumes, i6o 
 Equally mortal with a winter plague. 
 
 Gas. Now there's mercury — 
 
 Lod. And copperas — 
 
 Gas. And quicksilver — 
 
 Lod. With other devilish 'pothecary stuff, 
 A melting in your politic brains : dost hear ? 
 
 Gas. This is count Lodovico. 
 
 Lod. This, Gasparo; 
 
 And thou shalt die like a poor rogue. 
 
 Gas. And stink 
 
 Like a dead fly-blown dog. 
 
 Lod. And be forgotten before thy funeral sermon. 
 
 Brack. Vittoria ! Vittoria ! 
 
 Lod. O the cursed devil 
 
 Comes to himself again ! we are undone. 17° 
 
 Enter Vittoria and the Attendants 
 
 Gas. Strangle him in private. 
 What ! will you call him again 
 To live in treble torments ? for charity. 
 For Christian charity, avoid the chamber. 
 
 [Vittoria and the rest retire. 
 Lod. You would prate, sir ? This is a true-love-knot 
 Sent from the duke of Florence. 
 
 [Brachiano is strangled. 
 Gas. What, is it done ? 
 
SCENE III] THE WHITE DEVIL II9 
 
 Lod. The snuff is out. No woman-keeper i' th' world, 
 Though she had practised seven year at the pest-house,'^ 
 Could have done't quaintUer. My lords, he's dead. 
 
 ViTTORiA and the others come forward 
 
 Omnes. Rest to his soul ! 
 
 Vit. O me ! this place is hell. 180 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Fran. How heavily she takes it ! 
 
 Flam. O, yes, yes ; 
 
 Had women navigable rivers in their eyes. 
 They would dispend them all. Surely, I wonder 
 Wliy we should wish more rivers to the city. 
 When they sell water so good cheap." I'll tell thee. 
 These are but moonish shades of griefs or fears ; 
 There's nothing sooner dry than women's tears. 
 Why, here's an end of all my harvest ; he has given me 
 
 nothing. 
 Court promises ! let wise men count them cursed 
 For while you live, he that scores best, pays worst. 190 
 
 Fran. Sure, this was Florence' doing. 
 
 Flam. Very likely : 
 
 Those are found weighty strokes which come from th' 
 
 hand, 
 But those are kilUng strokes which come from th' head. 
 0, the rare tricks of a MachiaveUan ! " 
 He doth not come, like a gross plodding slave. 
 And buffet you to death ; no, my quaint knave. 
 He tickles you to death, makes you die laughing, 
 As if you had swallowed down a pound of saffron. "^ 
 You see the feat, 'tis practised in a trice ; 
 To teach court honesty, it jumps on ice.'^ 200 
 
 Fran. Now have the people liberty to talk. 
 And descant on his vices. 
 
 Flam. Misery of princes. 
 
 That must of force be censured by their slaves ! 
 
120 THE WHITE DEVIL [act v 
 
 Not only blamed for doing things are ill, 
 But for not doing all that all men will : 
 One were better be a thresher. Ud'sdeath ! I 
 Would fain speak with this duke yet. 
 
 Fran. Now he's dead ? 
 
 Flam. I cannot conjure ; but if prayers or oaths 
 Will get to th' speech of him, though forty devils 
 Wait on him in his livery of flames, 210 
 
 I'll speak to him, and shake him by the hand, 
 Though I be blasted. [Exit. 
 
 Fran. Excellent Lodovico ! 
 
 What ! did you terrify him at the last gasp ? 
 
 Lod. Yes, and so idly, that the duke had Hke 
 T' have terrified us. 
 
 Fran. How ? 
 
 Lod. You shall hear that hereafter. 
 
 Enter Zanche the Moor 
 
 See, yon's the infernal ° that would make up sport. 
 
 Now to the revelation of that secret 
 
 She promised when she fell in love with you. 
 
 Fraji. You're passionately met in this sad world. 
 
 Zan. I w^ould have you look up, sir; these court 
 tears : 
 
 Claim not your tribute to them : let those weep. 
 That guiltily partake in the sad cause. 
 I knew last night, by a sad dream I had. 
 Some mischief would ensue ; yet, to say truth. 
 My dream most concerned you. 
 
 Lod. Shall's fall a-drearaing? 
 
 Fran. Yes, and for fashion sake I'll dream with her. 
 
 Zan. Methought, sir, you came stealing to my bed. 
 
 Fran. Wilt thou believe me, sweeting ? by this light, 
 I was a-dreamt on thee too ; for methought ,• 
 
 I saw thee naked. 
 
 Zan. Fie, sir ! as I told you, 2i^\ 
 
SCENE in] THE WHITE DEVIL 121 
 
 Methought you lay down by me. 
 
 Fran. So dreamt I ; 
 
 And lest thou shouldst take cold, I covered thee 
 With this Irish mantle. 
 
 Zan. Verily I did dream 
 
 You were somewhat bold with me : but to come to't — 
 
 Lod. How ! how ! I hope you will not go to't here. 
 
 Fran. Nay, you must hear my dream out. 
 
 Zan. Well, sir, forth. 
 
 Fran. When I threw the mantle o'er thee, thou didst 
 laugh 
 Exceedingly, methought. 
 
 Zan. Laugh ! 
 
 Fran. And cried'st out. 
 
 The hair did tickle thee. 
 
 Zan. There was a dream indeed ! 
 
 Lod. Mark her, I prithee, she simpers like the suds 
 A coUier hath been washed in. 24 x 
 
 Zan. Come, sir ; good fortune tends you. I did tell you 
 I would reveal a secret : Isabella, 
 The duke of Florence' sister, was empoisoned 
 By a fumed picture ; and Camillo's neck 
 Was broke by damned Flamineo, the mischance 
 Laid on a vaulting-horse. 
 
 Fran. Most strange ! 
 
 Zan. Most true. 
 
 Lod. The bed of snakes is broke. 
 
 Zan. I sadly do confess, I had a hand 
 In the black deed. 
 
 Fran. Thou kept'st their counsel. 
 
 Zan. Right ; 250 
 
 For which, urged with contrition, I intend 
 This night to rob Vittoria. 
 
 Lod. Excellent penitence ! 
 
 Usurers dream on't while they sleep out sermons. 
 
 Zan. To further our escape, I have entreated 
 Leave to retire me, till the funeral, 
 
122 THE WHITE DEVIL [act v 
 
 Unto a friend i' th' country : that excuse 
 Will further our escape. In coin and jewels 
 I shall at least make good unto your use 
 An hundred thousand crowns. 
 
 Fran. O noble wench ! 
 
 Lod. Those crowns we'll share. 
 
 Zan. It is a dowry, 260 
 
 Methinks, should make that sunburnt proverb ° false, 
 And wash the .^thiop white. 
 
 Fran. It shall ; away! 
 
 Zan. Be ready for our flight. 
 
 Fran. An hour 'fore day. 
 
 [Exit Zanche. 
 O, strange discovery ! why, till now we knew not 
 The circumstance of either of their deaths. 
 
 Re-enter Zanche 
 
 Zan. You'll wait about midnight in the chapel ? 
 
 Fran. There. [Exit Zanche. 
 
 Lod. Why, now our action's justified. 
 
 Fran. Tush, for justice ! 
 
 WTiat harms it justice ? we now, like the partridge, 
 Purge the disease with laurel ; ° for the fame 269 
 
 Shall crown the enterprise, and quit the shame. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV 
 
 Enter Flamineo and Gasparo, at one door; another;^ 
 way, Giovanni, attended 
 
 Gas. The young duke : did you e'er see a sweetec^J 
 prince ? I 
 
 Flam. I have known a poor woman's bastard better 
 favoured : this is behind him ; now, to his face, all com- 
 parisons were hateful. Wise was the courtly peacock, 
 that, being a great minion, and being compared for beauty; 
 
SCENE IV] THE WHITE DEVIL 123 
 
 by some dotterels that stood by to the kingly eagle, said 
 the eagle was a far fairer bird than herself, not in respect 
 of her feathers, but in respect of her long tallants : his 
 will grow out in time. — My gracious lord. 10 
 
 Giov. I pray leave me, sir. 
 
 Fla7?i. Your grace must be merry; 'tis I have cause 
 to mourn ; for wot you, what said the httle boy that 
 rode behind his father on horseback ? 
 
 Giov. "VVTiy, what said he ? 
 
 Flam. WTien you are dead, father, said he, I hope 
 then I shall ride in the saddle. O, 'tis a brave thing 
 for a man to sit by himself ! he may stretch himself 
 in the stirrups, look about, and see the whole compass 
 of the hemisphere. You're now, my lord, i' th' saddle. 20 
 
 Giov. Study your prayers, sir, and be penitent : 
 *Twere fit you'd think on what hath former been ; 
 I have heard grief named the eldest child of sin. [Exit. 
 
 Flam. Study my prayers ! he threatens me di\'inely ! 
 I am falling to pieces already. I care not, though, like 
 A.nacharsis,° I were pounded to death in a mortar : and 
 yet that death were fitter for usurers, gold and themselves 
 to be beaten together, to make a most cordial cullis ° for 
 the devil. 
 
 He hath his uncle's villainous look already, 30 
 
 E7iter Courtier 
 
 Ji decimo sexto. — Now, sir, what are you ? 
 
 Cour. It is the pleasure, sir, of the young duke, that 
 jo\x forbear the presence, and all rooms that owe him 
 •everence. 
 
 Flam. So the wolf and the raven are very pretty fools 
 ?hen they are young. Is it your office, sir, to keep me 
 
 lUt? 
 
 Cour. So the duke \\ills. 38 
 
 Flam. Verily, master courtier, extremity is not to be 
 
 sed in all offices : say, that a gentlewoman were taken 
 
124 THE WHITE DEVIL [act 
 
 out of her bed about midnight, and committed to Castl 
 Angelo, to the tower yonder, with nothing about he 
 but her smock, would it not show a cruel part in th 
 gentleman-porter to lay claim to her upper garment, pu! 
 it o'er her head and ears, and put her in naked ? 
 
 Cour. Very good : you are merry. [Exii 
 
 Flam. Doth he make a court-ejectment of me ? a flam 
 ing fire-brand casts more smoke without a chimney tha: 
 within't. I'll smoor some of them. 
 
 Enter Francisco de Medicis 
 
 How now ? thou art sad. 5 j 
 
 Fran. I met even now with the most piteous sight. 
 
 Flam. Thou meet'st another here, a pitiful ' 
 
 Degraded courtier. 
 
 Fran. Your reverend mother 
 
 Is grown a very old woman in two hours. 
 I found them winding of Mar cello's corse ; 
 And there is such a solemn melody, 
 'Tween doleful songs, tears, and sad elegies ; 
 Such as old grandames, watching by the dead. 
 Were wont V outwear the nights with, that, believe me. 
 I had no eyes to guide me forth the room, 61 
 
 They were so o'ercharged with water. 
 
 Flam. I will see them. 
 
 Fran. 'Twere much uncharity in you ; for your sigh 
 Will add unto their tears. 
 
 Flam. I will see them : 
 
 They are behind the traverse ; ° I'll discover 
 Their superstitious howling. 
 
 Cornelia, the Moor, and three other ladies discovert 
 winding Marcello's corse. A song 
 
 Cor. This rosemary is withered ; pray, get fresh. 
 I would have these herbs grow up in his grave. 
 
SCENE IV] THE WHITE DEVIL 125 
 
 When I am dead and rotten. Reach the bays, 
 
 I'll tie a garland here about his head ; 
 
 Twill keep my boy from lightning. This sheet 70 
 
 I have kept this twenty year, and every day 
 
 Hallowed it with my prayers ; I did not think 
 
 He should have wore it. 
 
 Zan. Look you, who are yonder ? 
 
 Cor. O, reach me the flowers ! 
 
 Zan. Her ladyship's foolish. 
 
 Woman. Alas, her grief 
 
 Hath turned her child again ! 
 
 Cor. You're very welcome : 
 
 There's rosemary for you, and rue for you, [To Flamineo. 
 Heartsease for you ; I pray make much of it, 
 I have left more for myself.^ 
 
 Fran. Lady, who's this ? 
 
 Cor. You are, I take it, the grave-maker. 
 
 Flam. So. 80 
 
 Zan. 'Tis Flamineo. 
 
 Cor. Will you make me such a fool? here's a white 
 hand: 
 
 Can blood so soon be washed out ? let me see ; 
 SVhen screech-owls croak upon the chimney-tops, 
 ^nd the strange cricket i' th' oven sings and hops, 
 fcVhen yellow spots do on your hands appear, 
 Be certain then you of a corse shall hear. 
 
 ut upon't, how 'tis specked ! h'as handled a toad sure. 
 Cowslip water is good for the memory : 
 Pray, buy me three ounces oft. 9° 
 
 Flam. I would I were from hence. 
 
 Cor. Do you hear, sir ? 
 
 'U give you a saying which my grandmother 
 iVas wont, when she heard the bell toll, to sing o'er 
 Jnto her lute. 
 
 Flam. Do, an you will," do. 
 
 [Cornelia doth this in several forms of distractio7i. 
 
 Cor. Call for the robin redbreast, and the wren, 
 
126 THE WHITE DEVIL [act V 
 
 Since o^er shady groves they hover, 
 
 And with leaves and flowers do cover 
 
 The friendless bodies of unburied men. 
 
 Call unto his funeral dole 
 
 The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole, io< 
 
 To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm. 
 
 And {when gay tombs are robbed) sustain no harm; 
 
 But keep the wolf far thence, thafsfoe to men, 
 
 For with his nails he'll dig them up again. 
 
 They would not bury him 'cause he died in a quarrel 
 
 But I have an answer for them : 
 
 Let holy church receive him duly, 
 
 Since he paid the church-tithes truly. jj 
 
 His wealth is summed, and this is all his store, 
 
 This poor men get, and great men get no more. 
 
 Now the wares are gone, we may shut up shop. 
 
 Bless you all, good people. 
 
 [Exeunt Cornelia and Ladies. 
 Flam. I have a strange thing in me, to th' which 
 I cannot give a name, without it be 
 Compassion. I pray leave me. [Exit Francisco. 
 
 This night I'll know the utmost of my fate ; 
 I'll be resolved what my rich sister means 
 T' assign me for my service. I have lived 
 Riotously ill, like some that Hve in court, 
 And sometimes when my face was full of smiles. 
 Have felt the maze of conscience in my breast. 
 Oft gay and honoured robes those tortures try : 
 "We think caged birds sing, when indeed they cry. 
 Ha ! I can stand thee : nearer, nearer yet. 
 
 E7iter Brachiano's Ghost, in his leather cassock and 
 breeches, hoots, a cowl; in his hand a pot of lily flowers j 
 with a skull in it 
 
 What a mockery hath death made thee ! thou look'st sad^ 
 In what place art thou ? in yon starry gallery ? 
 
 I 
 
SCENE V] THE WHITE DEVIL I27 
 
 Or in the cursed dungeon ? — no ? not speak ? 
 
 Pray, sir, resolve me, what religion's best 
 
 For a man to die in ? or is it in your knowledge 
 
 To answer me how long I have to live ? 130 
 
 That's the most necessary question. 
 
 Not answer ? are you still, like some great men 
 
 That only walk like shadows up and down. 
 
 And to no purpose ; say — 
 
 [The Ghost throws earth upon him, and shows him 
 the skull. 
 What's that ? O fatal ! he throws earth upon me. 
 A dead man's skull beneath the roots of flowers ! 
 I pray speak, sir : our Italian churchmen 
 Make us believe dead men hold conference 
 With their familiars, and many times 
 Will come to bed to them, and eat with them. 140 
 
 [Exit Ghost. 
 He's gone ; and see, the skull and earth are vanished. 
 This is beyond melancholy. I do dare my fate 
 To do its worst. Now to my sister's lodging. 
 And sum up all these horrors : the disgrace 
 The prince threw on me ; next the piteous sight 
 Of my dead brother ; and my mother's dotage ; 
 ^nd last this terrible vision : all these 
 Shall with Vittoria's bounty turn to good, 
 pr I will drown this weapon in her blood. [Exit. 
 
 Scene V° 
 Enter Francisco, Lodovico, and Hortensio 
 
 Lod. My lord, upon my soul you shall no further ; 
 
 ou have most ridiculously engaged yourself 
 !'oo far already. For my part, I have paid 
 
 11 my debts : so, if I should chance to fall, 
 liy creditors fall not with me ; and I vow, 
 
 '0 quit all in this bold assembly, 
 
128 THE WHITE DEVIL [act v 
 
 To the meanest follower. My lord, leave the city, 
 
 Or I'll forswear the murder. [Exit. 
 
 Fran. Farewell, Lodovico : 
 
 If thou dost perish in this glorious act, 
 I'll rear unto thy memory that fame, lo 
 
 Shall in the ashes keep alive thy name. [Exit. 
 
 Hor. There's some black deed on foot. I'll presently 
 Down to the citadel, and raise some force. 
 These strong court-factions, that do brook no checks. 
 In the career oft break the riders' necks. [Exit. 
 
 Scene VI" 
 
 Enter Vittoria with a book in her hand, Zanche; Fla- 
 MiNEO following them 
 
 Flam. What ? are you at your prayers ? give o'er. 
 
 Vit. How, ruflSian '. 
 
 Flam. I come to you 'bout wordly business. 
 Sit down, sit down : nay, stay, blouze, you may hear it 
 The doors are fast enough. 
 
 Vit. Ha ! are you drunk ? 
 
 Flam. Yes, yes, with wormwood water; you shal 
 taste 
 Some of it presently. 
 
 Vit. What intends the fury ? 
 
 Flam. You are my lord's executrix ; and I claim 
 Reward for my long service. 
 
 Vit. For your service ! 
 
 Flam. Come, therefore, here is pen and ink, set dow] 
 What you will give me. 
 
 Vit. There. [She write: 
 
 Flam. Ha ! have you done already ? 
 
 'Tis a most short conveyance. 
 
 Vit. I will read it : 
 
 I give that portion to thee, and no other, 
 Which Cain groaned under, having slain his brother." 
 
ENE\i] THE WHITE DEVIL I29 
 
 Flam. A most courtly patent to beg by. 
 
 Vit. You are a villain ! 
 
 Flam. Is't come to this? they say affrights cure 
 agues : 
 
 Thou hast a devil in thee ; I will try 
 [f I can scare him from thee. Nay, sit still : 
 My lord hath left me yet two case of jewels, 
 Shall make me scorn your bounty ; you shall see them. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Vit. Sure he's distracted. 
 
 Zan. O, he's desperate ! 20 
 
 For your own safety give him gentle language. 
 
 [He re-enters with two case of pistols.^ 
 
 Flam. Look, these are better far at a dead lift, 
 Than all your jew^l-house. 
 
 Vit. And yet, methinks, 
 
 These stones " have no fair lustre, they are ill set. 
 
 Flam. I'll turn the right side towards you ; you shall 
 see 
 ilow they will sparkle. 
 
 Vit. Turn this horror from me ! 
 
 A^hat do you want ? w^hat would you have me do ? 
 ^s not all mine yours ? have I any children ? 
 
 Flam. Pray thee, good w^oman, do not .trouble me 
 ^ith this vain worldly business ; say your prayers : 30 
 
 made a vow to my deceased lord, 
 ^leither yourself nor I should outlive him 
 The numbering of four hours. 
 
 Vit. Did he enjoin it ? 
 
 i Flam. He did, and 'twas a deadly jealousy, 
 est any should enjoy thee after him, 
 That urged him vow me to it. For my death, 
 '. did propound it voluntarily, knowing, 
 f he could not be safe in his own court, 
 k^ng a great duke, what hope then for us ? 
 
 Vit. This is your melancholy, and despair. 
 
 Flam. Away ! 40 
 
 WEBSTER AND TOURNEUR 9 
 
I30 THE WHITE DEVIL [act v 
 
 Fool thou art, to think that politicians 
 
 Do use to kill the effects of injuries 
 
 And let the cause live. Shall we groan in irons, 
 
 Or be a shameful and weighty burthen 
 
 To a public scaffold ? This is my resolve : 
 
 I would not Hve at any man's entreaty, 
 
 Nor die at any's bidding. 
 
 Vit. Will you hear me ? 
 
 Flam. My life hath done service to other men, 
 My death shall serve mine own turn : make you ready. 
 
 Vit. Do you mean to die indeed ? 
 
 Flam. With as much pleasure, 5° 
 
 As e'er my father gat me. 
 
 Vit. Are the doors locked ? 
 
 Zan. Yes, madam. ' 
 
 Vit. Are you grown an atheist? will you turn your 
 body 
 Which is the goodly palace of the soul, 
 To the soul's slaughter-house? O, the cursed devil. 
 Which doth present us with all other sins 
 Thrice candied o'er, despair with gall and stibium ; J 
 Yet we carouse it off ; — [Aside to Zanche.] Cry out foi 
 
 help ! — 
 Make us forsake that which was made for man. 
 The world, to sink to that was made for devils, 60 
 
 Eternal darkness ! 
 
 Zan. Help, help ! 
 
 Flam. I'll stop your throat 
 
 With winter plums. 
 
 Vit. I prithee yet remember. 
 
 Millions are now in graves, which at last day 
 Like mandrakes shall rise shrieking." 
 
 Flam. Leave your prating, 
 
 For these are but grammatical laments,'^ 
 Feminine arguments : and they move me. 
 As some in pulpits move their auditory. 
 More with their exclamation, than sense 
 
SCENE VI] THE WHITE DEVIL 131 
 
 Of reason, or sound doctrine. 
 
 Zan. [Aside.] Gentle madam, 
 
 Seem to consent, only persuade him teach 70 
 
 The way to death ; let him die first. 
 
 Vit. 'Tis good, I apprehend it. — 
 To kill one's self is m^at that we must take 
 Like pills, not chewed, but quickly swallow it ; 
 The smart o' th' wound, or weakness of the hand, 
 May else bring treble torments. 
 
 Fla7n. I have held it 
 
 A wretched and most miserable life. 
 Which is not able to die. 
 
 ViL O, but frailty ! 
 
 Yet I am now resolved ; farewell, affliction ! 
 Behold, Brachiano, I that while you Uved 80 
 
 Did make a flaming altar of my heart 
 To sacrifice unto you, now am ready 
 To sacrifice heart and all. Farewell, Zanche ! 
 
 Zan: How, madam ! do you think I'll outlive 
 you; 
 Especially when my best self, Flamineo, 
 Goes the same voyage ? 
 
 Flam. O, most loved Moor ! 
 
 Zan. Only, by all my love, let me entreat you, — 
 Since it is most necessary one of us 
 Do violence on ourselves, — let you or I 
 Be her sad taster,^ teach her how to die. 90 
 
 Flam. Thou dost instruct me nobly; take these 
 pistols. 
 Because my hand \f> stained with blood already ; 
 Two of these you shall level at my breast, 
 The other 'gainst your own, and so we'll die 
 Most equally contented : but first swear 
 Not to outlive me. 
 
 Vit. and Zan. Most religiously. 
 
 Flam. Then here's an end of me; farewell, daylight! 
 And, O contemptible physic ! that dost take 
 
132 THE WHITE DEVIL [act v 
 
 So long a study, only to preserve 
 
 So short a life, I take my leave of thee. loo 
 
 [Showing the pistols. 
 These are two cupping-glasses, that shall draw 
 All my infected blood out. Are you ready ? 
 
 Both. ' Ready. 
 
 Flam. Whither shall I go now ? O Lucian, thy ridicu- 
 lous purgatory 1^ to find Alexander the Great cobbling 
 shoes, Pompey tagging points,^ and Julius Caesar making 
 hair-buttons ! Hannibal selling blacking, and Augustus 
 crying garhc ! Charlemagne selling lists by the dozen, 
 and king Pepin crying apples in a cart drawn with one 
 horse ! 
 
 Whether I resolve to fire, earth, water, air, no 
 
 Or all the elements by scruples, I know not, 
 Nor greatly care — Shoot, shoot. 
 Of all deaths, the violent death is best ; 
 For from ourselves it steals ourselves so fast, 
 The pain, once apprehended, is quite past. 
 
 [They shoot, and run to him, and tread upon him. 
 
 Vit. What, are you dropped ? 
 
 Flam. I am mixed with earth already: as you are 
 noble. 
 Perform your vows, and bravely follow me. 
 
 ViL Whither? to hell? 
 
 Zan. To most assured damnation ? 
 
 Vit. O thou most cursed devil ! 
 
 Zan. Thou art caught — 120 
 
 Vit. In thine own engine. I tread the fire out 
 That would have been my ruin. -*: 
 
 Flam. Will you be perjured? what a religious oath 
 was Styx, that the gods never durst swear by, and vio- 
 late ! O that we had such an oath to minister, and to 
 be so well kept in our courts of justice ! 
 
 Vit. Think whither thou art going. 
 
 Zan. And remember 
 
 What villainies thou hast acted. j 
 
 i 
 
SCENE VI] THE WHITE DEVIL 133 
 
 Vit. This thy death 
 
 Shall make me, like a blazing ominous star : 
 Look up and tremble. 
 
 Flam. O, I am caught with a springe ! 130 
 
 Vit. You see the fox comes many times short home; 
 'Tis here proved true. 
 
 Flam. Killed w'ith a couple of braches ! 
 
 Vit. No fitter offering for the infernal furies, 
 Than one in whom they reigned while he was living. 
 
 Flam. O, the way's dark and horrid ! I cannot see : 
 Shall I have no company ? 
 
 Vit. O yes, thy sins 
 
 Do run before thee to fetch fire from hell, 
 To light thee thither. 
 
 Flam. O, I smell soot, 
 
 Most stinking soot ! the chimney's afire : 
 My liver's parboiled, like Scotch holly-bread; 140 
 
 There's a plumber laying pipes in my guts, it scalds. 
 Wilt thou outlive me ? 
 
 Zan. Yes, and drive a stake ° 
 
 Through thy body ; for we'll give it out. 
 Thou didst this violence upon thyself. 
 
 Flam. O cunning devils ! now I have tried your love, 
 And doubled all your reaches." I am not wounded. 
 
 [Flamineo riseth. 
 The pistols held no bullets ; 'twas a plot 
 To prove your kindness to me ; and I live 
 To punish your ingratitude. I knew, 
 One time or other, you would find a way 15° 
 
 To give me a strong potion. O men, 
 That lie upon your death-beds, and are haunted 
 With howling wives, ne'er trust them ! they'll re-marry 
 Ere the worm pierce your winding-sheet, ere the spider 
 Make a thin curtain for your epitaphs. 
 How cunning you were to discharge ! do you practise 
 at the artillery-yard ? " Trust a woman ! never, never ! 
 Brachiano be my precedent. We lay our souls to pawn 
 
134 THE WHITE DEVIL [act v 
 
 to the de\"il for a little pleasure, and a woman makes 
 the bill of sale. That ever man should marry ! For 
 one H>permnestra that saved her lord and husband, 
 forty-nine of her sisters cut their husbands' throats all 
 in one night. ^ There was a shoal of virtuous horse- 
 leeches ! Here are two other instruments. 164. 
 
 Enter Lodovico, Gasparo 
 
 Vit. Help! help! 
 
 FIa?n. What noise is that ? ha ! false keys i' th' court ! 
 
 Lod. We have brought you a mask. 
 
 Flam. A matachin ° it seems 
 
 By your drawn swords. Churchmen ° turned revellers ! 
 
 Gas. Isabella ! Isabella ! 
 
 Lod. Do you know us now ? 
 
 Flam. Lodovico ! and Gasparo ! 170 
 
 Lod. Yes; and that ]\Ioor the duke gave pension to 
 Was the great duke of Florence. 
 
 17/. O, we are lost ! 
 
 Flam. You shall not take justice forth from my hands, — 
 O, let me kill her ! — I'll cut my safety 
 Through your coats of steel. Fate's a spaniel, 
 We cannot beat it from us. What remains now ? 
 Let all that do ill, take this precedent : 
 Man may his fate foresee, but not prevent: 
 And of all axioms this shall win the prize, 
 ^Tis better to be fortunate than iinse. 180 
 
 Gas. Bind him to the pillar. 
 
 Vit. O, your gentle pity ! 
 
 I have seen a blackbird that would sooner fly 
 To a man's bosom, than to stay the gripe 
 Of the fierce sparrow-hawk. 
 
 Gas. Your hope deceives you. 
 
 Vit. If Florence be i' th' court, would he would kill me ! 
 
 Gas. Fool ! princes give rewards with their own hands, 
 But death or punishment by the hands of others. 
 
SCENE VI] THE WHITE DEVIL 135 
 
 Lod. Sirrah, you once did strike me ; I'll strike you 
 Unto the centre. 
 
 Flam, Thoult do it Hke a hangman, a base hangman, 
 Not like a noble fellow, for thou see'st 191 
 
 I cannot strike again. 
 
 Lod. Dost laugh ? 
 
 Flam. Would'st have me die, as I was bom, in whin- 
 ing? 
 
 Gas. Recommend yourself to heaven. 
 
 Flam. Xo, I will carry mine own commendations 
 thither. 
 
 Lod. O, could I kill you forty times a day. 
 And use't four year together, 'twere too little ! 
 Nought grieves but that you are too few to feed 
 The famine of our vengeance. WTiat dost think on ? 
 
 Flam. Nothing ; of nothing : leave Ay idle questions. 
 I am i' th' way to study a long silence : 201 
 
 To prate were idle. I remember nothing. 
 There's nothing of so infinite vexation 
 As man's own thoughts. 
 
 Lod. O thou glorious strumpet ! 
 
 Could I di\-ide thy breath from this pure air 
 When't leaves thy body, I would suck it up. 
 And breathe't upon some dunghill. 
 
 Vit. You, my death's-man ! 
 
 Methinks thou dost not look horrid enough. 
 Thou hast too good a face to be a hangman : 
 f thou be, do thy office in right form ; 210 
 
 •'all down upon thy knees, and ask forgiveness. 
 
 Lod. O, thou hast been a most prodigious comet ! 
 But I'll cut off your train, — kill the Moor first. 
 
 Vit. You shall not kill her first ; behold my breast : 
 
 will be waited on in death ; my servant 
 >hall never go before me. 
 
 Gas. Are you so brave ? 
 
 Vit. Yes, I shall welcome death, 
 
 ■V.S princes do some great ambassadors ; 
 
136 THE WHITE DEVIL [act v 
 
 I'll meet thy weapon half way. 
 
 Lod. Thou dost tremble : 
 
 Methinks, fear should dissolve thee into air. 220 
 
 Vit. O, thou art deceived, I am too true a woman ! 
 Conceit can never kill me. I'll tell thee what, 
 I will not in my death shed one base tear ; 
 Or if look pale, for want of blood, not fear. 
 
 Gas. Thou art my task, black fury. 
 
 Zan. I have blood 
 
 As red as either of theirs : wilt drink some ? 
 'Tis good for the falling-sickness. I am proud 
 Death cannot alter my complexion, 
 For I shall ne'er look pale. 
 
 Lod. Strike, strike. 
 
 With a joint motion. 
 
 [They slab Vittoria, Zanche, and Flamineo. 
 
 Vit. 'Twas a manly blow ; 230 
 
 The next thou giv'st, murder some sucking infant ; 
 And then thou wilt be famous. 
 
 Flam. O, what blade is't ? 
 
 A Toledo, or an English fox ? 
 I ever thought a cutler should distinguish 
 The cause of my death, rather than a doctor. 
 Search my wound deeper ; tent it with the steel 
 That made it. 
 
 Vit. O, my greatest sin lay in my blood ! 
 
 Now my blood pays for't. 
 
 Flam. Th'art a noble sister ! 
 
 I love thee now : if woman do breed man. 
 She ought to teach him manhood : fare thee well. 240 
 Know, many glorious women that are famed 
 For masculine virtue, have been vicious. 
 Only a happier silence did betide them : 
 She hath no faults, who hath the art to hide them. 
 
 Vit. My soul, like to a ship in a black storm, 
 Is driven, I know not whither. 
 
 Flam. Then cast anchor. 
 
 I 
 
SCENE VI] THE WHITE DEVIL 1 37 
 
 Prosperity doth bewitch men, seeming clear ; 
 
 But seas do laugh, show white, when rocks are near. 
 
 We cease to grieve, cease to be fortune's slaves, 
 
 Nay, cease to die by dying. Art thou gone ? 250 
 
 And thou so near the bottom : false report. 
 
 Which says that women vie with the nine Muses 
 
 For nine tough durable lives ! I do not look 
 
 Who went before, nor who shall follow me ; 
 
 No, at myself I will begin and end. 
 
 While we look up to heaven, we confound 
 
 Knowledge with knowledge. O, I am in a mist ! 
 
 Vit. O, happy they that never saw the court. 
 Nor ever knew great men but by report ! [Dies. 
 
 Flam. I recover like a spent taper, for a flash, 260 
 
 And instantly go out. 
 
 Let all that belong to great men remember th' old wives' 
 tradition, to be like the lions i' th' Tower on Candle- 
 masday;'^ to mourn if the sun shine, for fear of the 
 pitiful remainder of winter to come. 
 'Tis well yet there's some goodness in my death ; 
 My life was a black charnel. I have caught 
 An everlasting cold ; I have lost my voice 
 Most irrecoverably. Farewell, glorious villains. 
 This busy trade of life appears most vain, 270 
 
 Since rest breeds rest, where all seek pain by pain. 
 Let no harsh flattering bells resound my knell ; 
 Strike, thunder, and strike loud, to my farewell ! [Dies. 
 
 Enter Ambassadors and Giovanni 
 
 Eng. Amh. This way, this way ! break ope the doors ! 
 this way ! 
 
 Lod. Ha ! are we betrayed ? 
 Why then let's constantly die all together ; 
 And having finished this most noble deed, 
 Defy the worst of fate, not fear to bleed. 
 
 Eng. Amh. Keep back the prince: shoot, shoot! 
 
138 THE WHITE DEVIL [act v 
 
 [They wound LoDOVico. 
 
 Lod. O, I am wounded ! 
 
 I fear I shall be ta'en. 
 
 Giov. You bloody villains, 280 
 
 By what authority have you committed 
 This massacre ? 
 
 Lod. By thine. 
 
 Giov. Mine ! 
 
 Lod. Yes ; thy uncle, 
 
 Which is a part of thee, enjoined us to't : 
 Thou know'st me, I am sure ; I am Count Lodowick ; 
 And thy most noble uncle in disguise 
 Was last night in thy court. 
 
 Giov. Ha ! 
 
 Lod. Yes, that Moor 
 
 Thy father chose his pensioner. 
 
 Giov. He turned murderer ! 
 
 Away w^ith them to prison, and to torture : 
 All that have hands in this shall taste our justice. 
 As I hope Heaven. 
 
 Lod. I do glory yet. 290 
 
 That I can call this act mine own. For my part. 
 The rack, the gallows, and the torturing wheel. 
 Shall be but sound sleeps to me ; here's my rest ; 
 I limned this night-piece, and it was my best. 
 
 Giov. Remove the bodies. See, my honoured lord. 
 What use you ought make of their punishment. 
 Let guilty men remember, their black deeds 
 Do lean on crutches made of slender reeds. [Exeuntj 
 
THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 
 
THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 
 
 Webster borrowed the plot of The Duchess of Malfi from 
 the twenty-third novel of the second volume of Painter^s Palact 
 of Pleasure^ 1567. None of the other accounts, of which there 
 are several, furnish such complete details. The subject wa.^ 
 treated in other literatures, notably by Lope de Vega in his Ei 
 Mayordo7no de la Diiqicesa de Ainalfi, written as early as 1609 
 but not published until 161 8, four years after Webster's version 
 must have been on the stage. The horrors of Bosola's torturt 
 of the Duchess have recently been found to have been derivec 
 from Sidney's Arcadia. On the subject, see Notes and Queries 
 Series X, Vol. 10. The Duchess of Malfi was on the stage b] 
 1 61 4, though not in print until 1623. 
 
 140 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 To the Rt. Hon. George Harding, Baron Berkeley, of 
 Berkeley Castle, and Knight of the Order of the Bath 
 to the illustrious Prince Charles. 
 
 My Noble Lord, 
 
 That I may present my excuse why, being a stranger to 
 your lordship, I offer this poem to your patronage, I plead this 
 warrant: — men who never saw the sea yet desire to behold 
 that regiment of waters, choose some eminent river to guide 
 them thither, and make that, as it were, their conduct or 
 postilion : by the like ingenious means has your fame arrived 
 at my knowledge, receiving it from some of worth, who both in 
 contemplation and practice owe to your honour their clearest 
 service. I do not altogether look up at your title ; the ancient- 
 est nobility being but a relic of time past, and the truest honour 
 indeed being for a man to confer honour on himself, which your 
 learning strives to propagate, and shall make you arrive at the 
 dignity of a great example. I am confident this work is not 
 unworthy your honour's perusal ; for by such poems as this 
 poets have kissed the hands of great princes, and drawn their 
 gentle eyes to look down upon their sheets of paper when the 
 poets themselves were bound up in their winding-sheets. The 
 like courtesy from your lordship shall make you live in your 
 grave, and laurel spring out of it, when the ignorant scorners of 
 the Muses, that like worms in libraries seem to live only to 
 destroy learning, shall wither neglected and forgotten. This 
 work and myself I humbly present to your approved censure, 
 it being the utmost of my wishes to have your honourable self 
 my weighty and perspicuous comment ; which grace so done me 
 shall ever be acknowledged 
 
 By your lordship's in all duty and observance, 
 
 John Webster. 
 
 141 
 
DRAMATIS PERSON AE 
 
 Ferdinand, Duke of Calabria. 
 
 The Cardinal, his Brother. 
 
 Antonio Bologna, Steward of the household to the Duchess. 
 
 Delio, his Friend. 
 
 Daniel de Bosola, Gentleman of the horse to the Duchess. 
 
 FOROBOSCO, an Attendant. 
 
 Count Malateste. 
 
 Castruccio, an old Lord. 
 
 The Marquis of Pescara. 
 
 Roderigo. 
 
 Silvio. 
 
 Grisolan. 
 
 Doctor. 
 
 The Several Madmen. 
 
 Court Officers. 
 
 Three Young Children. 
 
 Two Pilgrims. 
 
 The Duchess of Malfi. 
 
 Cariola, her Woman. 
 
 Julia, Castruccio's wife, and the Cardinal's Mistress. 
 
 Old Lady. 
 
 Scene — Malfi, Rome, Loretto, and Milan 
 
 142 
 
 i 
 
THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 
 
 ACT THE FIRST 
 Scene I" 
 Enter Antonio and Delio 
 
 Delio. You are welcome to your country, dear Antonio; 
 You have been long in France, and you return 
 A very formal Frenchman in your habit. 
 How do you like the French court ? 
 
 Ant. I admire it: 
 
 In seeking to reduce both state and people 
 To a fixed order, their judicious king 
 Begins at home ; quits first his royal palace 
 Of flattering sycophants, of dissolute 
 And infamous persons, which he sweetly terms 
 His master's masterpiece, the work of Heaven ; lo 
 
 Considering duly, that a prince's court 
 [s like a common fountain, whence should flow 
 Pure silver drops in general, but if 't chance 
 Some cursed example poison't near the head, 
 Death and diseases through the whole land spread. 
 Vnd what is't makes this blessed government, 
 But a most provident council, who dare freely 
 Jiform him the corruption" of the times ? 
 Though some o' th' court hold it presumption 
 To instruct princes what they ought to do, 20 
 
 t is a noble duty to inform them 
 Vhat they ought to foresee. Here comes Bosola, 
 ?he only court-gall ; yet I observe his railing 
 not for simple love of piety : 
 143 
 
144 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act 
 
 Indeed he rails at those things which he wants ; 
 Would be as lecherous, covetous, or proud, 
 Bloody, or envious, as any man. 
 If he had means to be so. Here's the Cardinal. 
 
 Enter Bosola and Cardinal 
 
 Bos. I do haunt you still. 
 
 Card, So.° y 
 
 Bos. I have done you better service than to be slightec 
 thus. Miserable age, where only the reward of doinc 
 well, is the doing of it ! 
 
 Card. You enforce your merit too much. 
 
 Bos. I fell into the galleys in your service, where, foi 
 two years together, I wore two towels instead of a shirt/ 
 with a knot on the shoulder, after the fashion of c 
 Roman mantle. Slighted thus ! I will thrive some way 
 blackbirds fatten best in hard weather ; why not I ii 
 these dog-days ? 4c 
 
 Card. Would you could become honest ! 
 
 Bos. With all your divinity do but direct me the wa> 
 to it. I have known many travel far for it, and yet 
 return as arrant knaves as they went forth, because the) 
 carried themselves always along with them. 
 
 [Exit Cardinal 
 
 Are you gone ? Some fellows, they say, are possessec 
 with the devil, but this great fellow were able to possess 
 the greatest devil, and make him worse. 
 
 Ant. He hath denied thee some suit ? 4< 
 
 Bos. He and his brother are Hke plum-trees that grov^ 
 crooked over standing-pools ; they are rich, and o'erlader 
 with fruit, but none but crows, pies, and caterpillars feed 
 on them. Could I be one of their flattering panders, 1 
 would hang on their ears like a horseleech, till I wer( 
 full, and then drop off. I pray leave me. Who wouk 
 rely upon these miserable dependencies, in expectation tc 
 be advanced to-morrow ? What creature ever fed won 
 
 1 
 
SCENE II] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI I45 
 
 than hoping Tantalus? nor ever died any man more 
 fearfully, than he that hoped for a pardon. There are 
 rewards for hawks and dogs, when they have done us 
 service : but for a soldier that hazards his limbs in a 
 battle, nothing but a kind of geometry is his last sup- 
 portation.'^ 63 
 
 Delio. Geometry ! 
 
 Bos. Aye, to hang in a fair pair of slings, take his 
 latter swing in the world upon an honourable pair of 
 crutches, from hospital to hospital. Fare ye well, sir : 
 and yet do not you scorn us, for places in the court are 
 but like beds in the hospital, where this man's head lies 
 at that man's foot, and so lower and lower. [Exit. 
 
 Delio, I knew this fellow seven years in the galleys 71 
 For a notorious murder ; and 'twas thought 
 The Cardinal suborned it : he was released 
 By the French general, Gaston de Foix, 
 When he recovered Naples. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis great pity, 
 
 He should be thus neglected : I have heard 
 He's very valiant. This foul melancholy 
 Will poison all his goodness ; for, I'll tell you, 
 [f too immoderate sleep be truly said 
 To be an inward rust unto the soul, 80 
 
 [t then doth follow want of action 
 Breeds all black malcontents, and their close rearing. 
 Like moths in cloth, do hurt for want of wearing. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene 11° 
 
 Enter Antonio, Delio, Ferdinand, Castruccio, 
 Silvio, Roderigo, Grisolan 
 
 Delio. The presence 'gins to fill: you promised me 
 To make me the partaker of the natures 
 )f some of your great courtiers. 
 
 Ant. The lord Cardinal's, 
 
 WEBSTER AND TOURNEUR lO 
 
146 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act- 
 
 And other strangers, that are now in court ? 
 I shall : here comes the great Calabrian Duke. 
 
 Ferd. Who took the ring oftenest ? ° 
 
 Silvio, Antonio Bologna, my lord. 
 
 Ferd. Our sister Duchess' great master of her house 
 hold: give him the jewel. When shall we leave thi 
 sportive action, and fall to action indeed ? k 
 
 Cast. Methinks, my lord, you should not desire to g( 
 to war in person. 
 
 Ferd. Now, for some gravity : — why, my lord ? 
 
 Cast. It is fitting a soldier arise to be a prince, bul 
 not necessary a prince descend to be a captain. 
 
 Ferd. No? 
 
 Cast. No, my lord, he were far better do it by £ 
 deputy. 
 
 Ferd. Why should he not as well sleep, or eat by £ 
 deputy ? This might take idle, offensive, and base office 
 from him, whereas the other deprives him of honour. 2: 
 
 Cast. Believe my experience : that realm is nevei 
 long in quiet, where the ruler is a soldier. 
 
 Ferd. Thou toldest me thy wife could not endun 
 fighting. 
 
 Cast. True, my lord. 
 
 Ferd. And of a jest she broke of a captain she met full 
 of wounds : I have forgot it. 
 
 Cast. She told him, my lord, he was a pitiful felloWj 
 to he like the children of Ismael, all in tents.'^ 3c 
 
 Ferd. Why, there's a wit were able to undo all the 
 chirurgeons o' th' city, for although gallants should 
 quarrel, and had drawn their weapons, and were read) 
 to go to it, yet her persuasions would make them put up. 
 
 Cast. That she would, my lord. How do you like my ' 
 Spanish gennet ? 
 
 Rod. He is all fire. j 
 
 Ferd. I am of Pliny's opinion, I think he was begot' 
 by the wind ; he runs as if he were ballassed with quick 
 silver. 
 
 Jl 
 
SCENE II] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI I47 
 
 Silvio. True, my lord, he reels from the tilt often. 
 
 Rod. Gris. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Ferd. Why do you laugh? methinks you that are 
 courtiers should be my touchwood, take fire when I give 
 fire ; that is, not laugh but when I laugh, were the sub- 
 ject never so witty. 
 
 Cast. True, my lord ; I myself have heard a very good 
 jest, and have scorned to seem to have so silly a wit, 
 as to understand it. 
 
 Ferd. But I can laugh at your fool,"^ my lord. 50 
 
 Cast. He cannot speak, you know, but he makes faces : 
 my lady cannot abide him. 
 
 Ferd. No? 
 
 Cast. Nor endure to be in merry company; for she 
 says too much laughing, and too. much company, fills her 
 too full of the wrinkle. 
 
 Ferd. I would then have a mathematical instrument 
 made for her face, that she might not laugh out of com- 
 pass. I shall shortly visit you at Milan, lord Silvio. 
 
 Silvio. Your grace shall arrive most welcome. 60 
 
 Ferd. You are a good horseman, Antonio : you have 
 excellent riders in France : what do you think of good 
 horsemanship ? 
 
 Ant. Nobly, my lord: as out of the Grecian horse 
 issued many famous princes, so out of brave horseman- 
 ship arise the first sparks of growing resolution, that raise 
 the mind to noble action'. 
 
 Ferd. You have bespoke it worthily. 
 
 Silvio. Your brother, the lord Cardinal, and sister 
 Duchess. 70 
 
 Enter Cardinal, Duchess, Cariola, and Julia 
 
 Card. Are the galleys come about ? 
 Gris. They are, my lord. 
 
 Ferd. Here's the lord Silvio is come to take his leave. 
 Delio. Now, sir, your promise : '^ what's that Cardinal ? 
 
148 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act 1 
 
 I mean his temper ? they say he's a brave fellow, 
 
 Will play his five thousand crowns at tennis," dance, 75 
 
 Court ladies, and one that hath fought single combats. 
 
 Ant. Some such flashes superficially hang on him, for 
 form, but observe his inward character : he is a melan- 
 choly churchman. The spring in his face is nothing but 
 the engendering of toads ;° where he is jealous of any 
 man, he lays worse plots for him than ever was imposed 
 on Hercules, for he strews in his way flatterers, panders, 
 intelligencers, atheists, and a thousand such political 
 monsters." He should have been Pope, but instead of 
 coming to it by the primitive decency of the church, 
 he did bestow bribes so largely, and so impudently, as 
 if he would have carried it away without heaven's 
 knowledge. Some good he hath done — 
 
 Delio. You have given too much of him: what's his 
 brother ? 
 
 Ant. The duke there ? a most perverse and turbulent 
 
 nature : 9° 
 
 What appears in him mirth is merely outside ; 
 
 If he laugh heartily, it is to laugh 
 
 All honesty out of fashion. 
 
 Delio. Twins ? 
 
 Ant. In quaUty. 
 
 He speaks with others' tongues, and hears men's suits 
 With others' ears ; will seem to sleep o' th' bench 
 Only to entrap offenders in their answers ; 
 Dooms men to death by information,^ 
 Rewards by hearsay. 
 
 Delio. Then the law to him 
 
 Is like a foul black cobweb to a spider. 
 He makes it his dwelling and a prison ^ 
 
 To entangle those shall feed him. 
 
 Ant. Most true : 
 
 He never pays debts unless they be shrewd turns," 
 And those he will confess that he doth owe. 
 Last, for his brother there, the Cardinal, 
 
SCENE ii] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI I49 
 
 They that do flatter him most say oracles 
 
 Hang at his Hps ; and verily I beHeve them, 
 
 For the devil speaks in them. 
 
 But for their sister, the right noble duchess, 
 
 You never fixed your eye on three fair medals 
 
 Cast in one figure," of so different temper. no 
 
 For her discourse, it is so full of rapture. 
 
 You only will begin then to be sorry 
 
 When she doth end her speech, and wish, in wonder. 
 
 She held it less vainglory, to talk much, 
 
 Than your penance to hear her : whilst she speaks, 
 
 She throws upon a man so sweet a look. 
 
 That it were able to raise one to a galliard 
 
 That lay in a dead palsy, and to dote 
 
 On that sweet countenance ; but in that look 
 
 There speaketh so divine a continence, 120 
 
 As cuts off all lascivious and vain hope. 
 
 Her days are practised in such noble virtue, 
 
 That sure her nights, nay more, her very sleeps, 
 
 Are more in heaven, than other ladies' shrifts. 
 
 Let all sweet ladies break their flattering glasses. 
 
 And dress themselves in her. 
 
 Delio. Fie, Antonio, 
 
 You play the wire-drawer with her commendations." 
 
 Ant. I'U case the picture up : only thus much ; 
 All her particular worth grows to this sum ; 
 She stains the time past, lights the time to come. 130 
 
 Cari. You must attend my lady in the gallery. 
 Some half an hour hence. 
 
 Ant. I shall. 
 
 I [Exeunt Antonio and Delio. 
 
 Ferd. Sister, I have a suit to you. 
 
 Duch. To me, sir ? 
 
 Ferd. A gentleman here, Daniel de Bosola, 
 One that was in the galleys — 
 
 Duch. Yes, I know him. 
 
 Ferd. A worthy fellow h'is : pray let me entreat for 
 
I50 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act I 
 
 The provisorship of your horse. 
 
 Duch. Your knowledge of him 
 
 Commends him and prefers him. 
 
 Ferd. Call him hither. [Exit Attendant. 
 
 We are now upon parting. — Good lord Silvio, 
 Do us commend to all our noble friends 140 
 
 At the leaguer. 
 
 Silvio. Sir, I shall. 
 
 Ferd. You are for Milan ? 
 
 Silvio. I am. 
 
 Duch. Bring the caroches : we'll bring you down 
 
 To the haven. 
 
 [Exeunt all hut the Cardinal and Ferdinand. 
 
 Card. Be sure you entertain that Bosola 
 
 For your intelligence : I would not be seen in't ; 
 And therefore many times I have slighted him, 
 When he did court our furtherance, as this morning. 
 
 Ferd. Antonio, the great master of her household, 
 Had been far fitter. 
 
 Card. You are deceived in him : 
 
 His nature is too honest for such business. 
 He comes : I'll leave you. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Bosola 
 
 Bos. I was lured to you. 1 
 
 Ferd. My brother here, the Cardinal, could never 151* 
 Abide you. 
 
 Bos. Never since he was in my debt. 
 
 Ferd. May be some oblique character in your face 
 Made him suspect you. 
 
 Bos. Doth he study physiognomy ? 
 
 There's no more credit to be given to th' face. 
 Than to a sick man's urine, which some call 
 The physician's whore, because she cozens him. 
 He did suspect me wrongfully. 
 
 Ferd. For that 
 
 
 1 
 
SCENE iij THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 151 
 
 You must give great men leave to take their times. 
 Distrust doth cause us seldom be deceived : 160 
 
 You see, the oft shaking of the cedar-tree 
 Fastens it more at root. 
 
 Bos. Yet, take heed ; 
 
 For to suspect d friend unworthily, 
 Instructs him the next way to suspect you, 
 And prompts him to deceive you. 
 
 Ferd. There's gold. 
 
 Bos. So, 
 
 What follows ? never rained such showers as these 
 Without thunderbolts i' th' tail of them : whose throat 
 must I cut ? 
 
 Ferd. Your inclination to shed blood rides post 
 Before my occasion to use you. I give you that 
 To live i' th' court here, and observe the duchess ; 170 
 
 To note all the particulars of her 'haviour. 
 What suitors do solicit her for marriage, 
 And whom she best affects. She's a young widow : 
 |l would not have her marry again. 
 
 Bos. No, sir ? 
 
 Ferd. Do not you ask the reason ; but be satisfied 
 
 say I would not. 
 
 Bos. It seems you would create me 
 
 One of your famihars. 
 
 Ferd. Familiar ! what's that ? 
 
 Bos. Why, a very quaint invisible devil in flesh ; 
 A.n intelligencer. 
 
 Ferd. Such a kind of thriving thing 
 
 would wish thee ; and ere long, thou may'st arrive 180 
 \t a higher place by't. 
 
 Bos. Take your devils, 
 
 iVhich hell calls angels : these cursed gifts would make 
 i^'ou a corrupter, me an impudent traitor ; 
 Vnd should I take these, they'd take me to hell. 
 
 Ferd. Sir, I'll take nothing from you, that I have 
 given : 
 
152 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act i 
 
 There is a place that I procured for you 
 This morning, the provisorship o' th' horse ; 
 Have you heard on't ? 
 
 Bos. No. 
 
 Ferd. 'Tis yours : is't not worth thanks ? 
 
 Bos. I would have you curse yourself now, that your 
 bounty 
 (Which makes men truly noble) e'er should make 190 
 Me a villain. O, that to avoid ingratitude 
 For the good deed you have done me, I must do 
 All the ill man can invent ! Thus the devil 
 Candies all sins o'er ; and what heaven terms vile 
 That names he complimental. 
 
 Ferd. Be yourself ; 
 
 Keep your old garb of melancholy ; 'twill express 
 You envy those that stand above your reach. 
 Yet strive not to come near 'em : this will gain 
 Access to private lodgings, where yourself 
 May, like a politic dormouse — 
 
 Bos. As I have seen some. 
 
 Feed in a lord's dish, half asleep, not seeming 20 ij 
 
 To hsten to any talk ; and yet these rogues J 
 
 Have cut his throat in a dream. What's my place ? 
 The provisorship o' th' horse ? say, then, my corruption 
 Grew out of horse-dung : " I am your creature, 
 
 Ferd. Away ! 
 
 Bos. Let good men, for good deeds, covet good fame. 
 Since place and riches, oft are bribes of shame : 
 Sometimes the devil doth preach. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Duchess, Cardinal, and Cariola 
 
 Card. We are to part from you; and your own dis- 
 cretion 
 Must now be your director. 
 
 Ferd. You are a widow : 210 
 
 You know already what man is ; and therefore 
 
SCENE II] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 1 53 
 
 Let not youth, high promotion, eloquence — 
 
 Card. No, nor anything without the addition, honour. 
 Sway your high blood. 
 
 Ferd. ' Marry ! they are most luxurious, 
 
 Will wed twice. 
 
 Card. O, fie ! 
 
 Ferd. Their hvers are more spotted 
 
 Than Laban's sheep.'^ 
 
 Duch. Diamonds are of most value, 
 
 They say, that have passed through most jewellers' hands. 
 
 Ferd. Whores, by that rule, are precious. 
 
 DmcJi. Will you hear me ? 
 
 I'll never marry. 
 
 Card. So most widows say ; 
 
 But commonly that motion ° lasts no longer 220 
 
 Than the turning of an hour-glass : the funeral sermon 
 And it, end both together. 
 
 Ferd. Now hear me : 
 
 You live in a rank pasture here, i' th' court ; 
 There is a kind of honey-dew that's deadly ; 
 'Twill poison your fame ; look to't : be not cunning ; 
 For they whose faces do belie their hearts, 
 Are witches ere they arrive at twenty years, 
 Aye, and give the devil suck. 
 
 Duch. This is terrible good counsel. 
 
 Ferd. Hypocrisy is woven of a fine small thread, 230 
 Subtler than Vulcan's engine : ° yet, beUev't, 
 VTour darkest actions, nay, your privat'st thoughts, 
 l^ill come to light. 
 
 Card. You may flatter yourself, 
 
 \.nd take your own choice ; privately be married 
 P'nder the eaves of night — 
 
 Ferd. Think't the best voyage 
 
 That e'er you made ; like the irregular crab, 
 iVhich, though't goes backward, thinks that it goes right, 
 [Because it goes its own way : but observe, 
 Buch weddings may more properly be said 
 
154 'THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act i 
 
 To be executed, than celebrated. 
 
 Card. The marriage night 240 
 
 Is the entrance into some prison. 
 
 Ferd. And those joys, 
 
 Those lustful pleasures, are like heavy sleeps 
 Which do forerun man's mischief. 
 
 Card. Fare you well. 
 
 Wisdom begins at the end : remember it. [Exit. 
 
 Duch. I think this speech between you both was studied, 
 It came so roundly off. 
 
 Ferd. You are my sister ; 
 
 This was my father's poniard, do you see ? 
 I'd be loath to see't look rusty, 'cause 'twas his. 
 I would have you to give o'er these chargeable revels, 
 A visor and a mask are whispering rooms 250 
 
 That were never built for goodness ; — fare ye well. 
 And women like that part which, like the lamprey. 
 Hath never a bone in't. 
 
 Duch. Fie, sir! 
 
 Ferd. Nay, 
 
 I mean the tongue ; variety of courtship : 
 What cannot a neat knave with a smooth tale 
 Make a woman beHeve ? Farewell, lusty widow. [Exit. 
 
 Duch. Shall this move me ? If all my royal kindred l| 
 Lay in my way unto this marriage, 
 I'd make them my low footsteps : and even now. 
 Even in this hate, as men in some great battles, 260 
 
 By apprehending danger, have achieved 
 Almost impossible actions, — I have heard soldiers say 
 
 so, — 
 So I through frights and threatenings will assay 
 This dangerous venture. Let old wives report 
 I winked " and chose a husband. Cariola, 
 To thy known secrecy I have given up 
 More than my life — my fame. 
 
 Cari. Both shall be safe : 
 
 For I'll conceal this secret from the world. 
 
 I 
 
SCENE II] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 155 
 
 As warily as those that trade in poison 
 Keep poison from their children. 
 
 Duck. Thy protestation 270 
 
 Is ingenious and hearty : I beheve it. 
 Is Antonio come ? 
 
 Cari. He attends you. 
 
 Duch. Good dear soul, 
 
 Leave me ; but place thyself behind the arras, 
 Where thou may'st overhear us. Wish me good speed, 
 For I am going into a wilderness 
 Where I shall find nor path, nor friendly clue. 
 To be my guide. [Exit Cariola. 
 
 Enter Antonio 
 
 I sent for you : sit down ; 
 lake pen and ink, and write : are you ready ? 
 
 A7it. Yes, 
 
 Duch. What did I say ? 
 
 Ant. That I should write somewhat. 
 
 Duch. O, I remember. 
 
 \fter this triumph and this large expense, 281 
 
 t's fit, like thrifty husbands, we inquire 
 ^at's laid up for to-morrow. 
 
 Ant. So please your beauteous excellence. 
 
 Duch. Beauteous ! 
 
 ndeed I thank you : I look young for your sake ; 
 ^ou have ta'en my cares upon you. 
 
 Ant. I'll fetch your grace 
 
 lie particulars of your revenue and expense. 
 
 Duch. O, you are an upright treasurer; but you mistook : 
 for when I said I meant to make inquiry 
 Hiat's laid up for to-morrow, I did mean 290 
 
 /hat's laid up yonder for me. 
 
 Ant. Where ? 
 
 Dtich. In Heaven. 
 
 am making my will (as 'tis fit princes should. 
 
156 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act 
 
 In perfect memory), and, I pray, sir, tell me 
 Were not one better make it smiling, thus. 
 Than in deep groans, and terrible ghastly looks, 
 As if the gifts we parted with procured 
 That violent distraction ? 
 
 AnL O, much better. 
 
 Duch. If I had a husband now, this care were quit : 
 But I intend to make you overseer. 
 What good deed shall we first remember ? say. 30 
 
 Ant. Begin with that first good deed begun i' th' worl( 
 After man's creation, the sacrament of marriage : 
 I'd have you first provide for a good husband ; 
 Give him all. 
 
 Duch. All ? 
 
 Ant. Yes, your excellent self. 
 
 Duch. In a winding sheet ? 
 
 Ant. In a couple. 
 
 Duch. St. Winifred, that were a strange will ! 
 
 Ant. 'Twere strange if there were no will in you 
 To marry again. 
 
 Duch. What do you think of marriage ? 
 
 Ant. I take't, as those that deny purgatory. 
 It locally contains, or heaven, or hell, 3^ 
 
 There's no third place in't. 
 
 Duch. How do you affect it ? 
 
 Ant. My banishment, feeding my melancholy, 
 Would often reason thus. 
 
 Duch. Pray let's hear it. 
 
 Ant. Say a man never marry, nor have children, 
 What takes that from him ? only the bare name 
 Of being a father, or the weak delight 
 To see the little wanton ride a cock-horse 
 Upon a painted stick, or hear him chatter 
 Like a taught starling. 
 
 Duch. Fie, fie, what's all this ? 
 
 One of your eyes is bloodshot ; use my ring to't. 
 They say 'tis very sovereign : ° 'twas my wedding ring 
 
SCENE II] T^E DUCHESS OF MALFI 1 5/ 
 
 And I did vow never to part with it 
 But to my second husband. 
 
 Ant. You have parted with it now. 
 
 Duch. Yes, to help your eyesight. 
 
 Ant. You have made me stark bhnd. 
 
 Duch. How ? 
 
 Ant. There is a saucy and ambitious devil, 
 Is dancing in this circle. 
 
 Duch. Remove him. 
 
 Ant. How ? 
 
 Duch. There needs small conjuration, when your 
 finger 
 May do it ; thus ; is it fit ? 
 
 Ant. What said you? [He kneels. 
 
 Ditch. Sir, 2,30 
 
 This goodly roof of yours," is too low built ; 
 I cannot stand upright in't nor discourse. 
 Without I raise it higher : raise yourself ; 
 Or, if you please, my hand to help you : so. 
 
 Ant. Ambition, madam, is a great man's madness, 
 rhat is not kept in chains, and close-pent rooms. 
 But in fair Hghtsome lodgings, and is girt 
 ^Vith the wild noise of prattling visitants, 
 iiVhich makes it lunatic beyond all cure, 
 ponceive not I am so stupid but I aim 340 
 
 <iVhereto your favours tend : but he's a fool, 
 rhat being a-cold, would thrust his hands i' th' fire 
 To warm them. 
 
 Duch. So now the ground's broke, 
 
 i^Du may discover what a wealthy mine 
 
 make you lord of. 
 
 Ant. O my unworthiness ! 
 
 Duch. You were ill to sell yourself : 
 This darkening of your worth" is not like that 
 Vhich tradesmen use i' th' city ; their false lights 
 kre to rid bad wares off : and I must tell you, 
 f you will know where breathes a complete man 35° 
 
158 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act 
 
 (I speak it without flattery), turn your eyes, 
 And progress through yourself. 
 
 Ant. Were there nor heaven nor hell, 
 I should be honest : I have long served virtue, 
 And ne'er ta'en wages of her. 
 
 Duch. Now she pays it. 
 
 The misery of us that are born great ! 
 We are forced to woo, because none dare woo us ; 
 And as a tyrant doubles with his words. 
 And fearfully equivocates, so we 
 
 Are forced to express our violent passions 3^ 
 
 In riddles, and in dreams, and leave the path 
 Of simple virtue, which was never made 
 To seem the thing it is not. Go, go brag 
 You have left me heartless ; mine is in your bosom : 
 I hope 'twill multiply love there. You do tremble : 
 Make not your heart so dead a piece of flesh. 
 To fear, more than to love me. Sir, be confident : 
 What is't distracts you ? This is flesh and blood, sir ; 
 'Tis not the figure cut in alabaster. 
 Kneels at my husband's tomb. Awake, awake, man ! 
 I do here put off all vain ceremony, 3: 
 
 And only do appear to you a young widow 
 That claims you for her husband, and like a widow, 
 I use but half a blush in't. 
 
 Ant. Truth speak for me : 
 
 I will remain the constant sanctuary 
 Of your good name. 
 
 Duch. I thank you, gentle love : 
 
 And 'cause you shall not come to me in debt. 
 Being now my steward, here upon your lips 
 I sign your Quietus est.^ This you should have begge 
 
 now; 
 I have seen children oft eat sweetmeats thus, 3' 
 
 As fearful to devour them too soon. 
 
 Ant. But for your brothers ? 
 
 Duch. Do not think of them 
 
SCENE II] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 1 59 
 
 All discord without this circumference 
 Is only to be pitied, and not feared : 
 Yet, should they know it, time will easily 
 Scatter the tempest. 
 
 Ant. These words should be mine. 
 
 And all the parts you have spoke, if some part of it 
 Would not have savoured flattery. 
 
 Duch. Kneel. 
 
 Enter Cariola 
 
 Ant. Ha ! 
 
 Duch. Be not amazed, this woman's of my counsel : 
 I have heard lawyers say, a contract in a chamber 39° 
 Per verba presentl " is absolute marriage. 
 Bless, heaven, this sacred gordian, which let violence 
 Never untwine ! 
 
 Ant. And may our sweet affections, like the spheres, 
 Be still in motion. 
 
 Duch. Quickening, and make 
 
 The like soft music. 
 
 Ant. That we may imitate the loving palms, 
 Best emblem of a peaceful marriage 
 That never bore fruit divided. 
 
 Duch. What can the church force more ? 400 
 
 Ant. That fortune may not know an accident 
 Either of joy, or sorrow, to divide 
 Our fixed wishes! 
 
 Duch. How can the church build faster ? 
 
 We now are man and wife, and 'tis the church 
 rhat must but echo this. Maid, stand apart : 
 [ now am blind. 
 
 Ant. What's your conceit in this? 
 
 Duch. I would have you lead your fortune by the 
 hand 
 
 Into your marriage bed : 
 You speak in me this, for we now are one :) 
 
l6o THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act 
 
 We'll only lie, and talk together, and plot 43 
 
 T' appease my humorous kindred ; and if you please, 
 
 Like the old tale in Alexander and Lodowick,^ 
 
 Lay a naked sword between us, keep us chaste. 
 
 O, let me shroud my blushes in your bosom. 
 
 Since 'tis the treasury of all my secrets ! [Exeun 
 
 Cari. Whether the spirit of greatness, or of woman 
 Reign most in her, I know not ; but it shows 
 A fearful madness : I owe her much of pity. [Ext 
 
ACT THE SECOND 
 Scene I° 
 Enter Bosola and Castruccio 
 
 Bos. You say, you would fain be taken for an eminent 
 courtier ? 
 
 Cast. 'Tis the very main of my ambition. 
 
 Bos. Let me see : you have a reasonable good face 
 for't already, and your night-cap expresses your ears 
 sufficient largely. I would have you learn to twirl the 
 strings of your band with a good grace, and in a set 
 speech, at th' end of every sentence, to hum three or 
 four times, or blow your nose till it smart again, to 
 recover your memory. When you come to be a president 
 in criminal causes, if you smile upon a prisoner, hang 
 him; but if you frown upon him, and threaten him, let 
 tiim be sure to scape the gallows. 13 
 
 Cast. I would be a very merry president. 
 
 Bos. Do not sup a' nights ; 'twill beget you an admir- 
 ible wit. 
 
 Cast. Rather it would make me have a good stomach 
 quarrel ; for they say, your roaring boys ° eat meat 
 ieldom, and that makes them so valiant. But how shall 
 
 know whether the people take me for an eminent 
 allow? 21 
 
 Bos. I will teach a trick to know it : give out you lie 
 i-dying, and if you hear the common people curse you, 
 »e sure you are taken for one of the prime night-caps.'^ 
 
 Enter an Old Lady 
 You come from painting now ? 
 Old Lady. From what ? 
 
 WEBSTER AND TOURNEUR II l6j 
 
l62 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act ii 
 
 Bos. Why, from your scurvy face-physic.'^ To behold 
 thee not painted, inclines somewhat near a miracle: 
 these in thy face here, were deep ruts, and foul sloughs, 
 the last progress. There was a lady in France, that 
 having had the smallpox, flayed the skin off her face, to 
 make it more level ; and whereas before she looked like a 
 nutmeg-grater, after she resembled an abortive hedgehog. 
 
 Old Lady. Do you call this painting ? 34 
 
 Bos. No, no, but you call't careening of an old mor- 
 phewed lady, to make her disembogue again : there's 
 rough-cast phrase to your plastic. 
 
 Old Lady. It seems you are well acquainted with my 
 closet. 39 
 
 Bos. One would suspect it for a shop of witchcraft, 
 to find in it the fat of serpents, spawn of snakes, Jews' 
 spittle, and their young children's ordure ; ^ and all these 
 for the face. I would sooner eat a dead pigeon," taken 
 from the soles of the feet of one sick of the plague, than 
 kiss one of you fasting. Here are two of you, whose sin 
 of your youth is the very patrimony of the physician ; 
 makes him renew his foot-cloth with the spring, and 
 change his high-prized courtesan with the fall of the leaf. 
 I do wonder you do not loathe yourselves. Observe my 
 meditation now. 50 
 
 What thing is in this outward form of man 
 To be beloved ? We account it ominous. 
 If nature do produce a colt, or lamb, 
 A fawn, or goat, in any limb resembling 
 A man, and fly from't as a prodigy. 
 Man stands amazed to see his deformity 
 In any other creature but himself. 
 But in our own flesh, though we bear diseases 
 Which have their true names only ta'en from beasts, 
 As the most ulcerous wolf and swinish measle, 6c 
 
 Though we are eaten up of lice and worms. 
 And though continually we bear about us 
 A rotten and dead body, we delight 
 
SCENE I] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 163 
 
 To hide it in rich tissue ; all our fear, 
 
 Nay all our terror, is, lest our physician 
 
 Should put us in the ground, to be made sweet. 
 
 Your wife's gone to Rome : you two couple, and get you 
 
 To the wells at Lucca," to recover your aches. 
 
 I have other work on foot. I observe our duchess 
 
 [Exeunt Castruccio and the Old Lady. 
 Is sick a-days, she pukes, her stomach seethes, 7° 
 
 The fins of her eyehds look most teeming blue. 
 She wanes i' th' cheek, and waxes fat i' th' flank. 
 And, contrary to our Italian fashion. 
 Wears a loose-bodied gown ; there's something in't. 
 I have a trick may chance discover it, 
 A pretty one : I have bought some apricocks," 
 The first our spring yields — 
 
 Enter Antonio and Delio 
 
 Delio. And so long since married ! 
 
 You amaze me. 
 
 A nt. Let me seal your lips for ever : 
 
 For did I think, that anything but th' air 
 Could carry these words from you, I should wish So 
 You had no breath at all. — Now, sir, in your contem- 
 plation ? 
 You are studying to become a great wise fellow. 
 
 Bos. 0,*sir, the opinion of wisdom, is a foul tetter, 
 that runs all over a man's body : if simplicity direct us 
 to have no evil, it directs us to a happy being : for the 
 subtlest folly proceeds from the subtlest wisdom : let me 
 be simply honest. 
 
 Ant. I do understand your inside. 
 
 Bos. Do you so ? 
 
 Ant. Because you would not seem to appear to th' 
 world 
 Puffed up with your preferment, you continue 90 
 
 This out-of-fashion melancholy : leave it, leave it. 
 
l64 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act ii 
 
 Bos. Give me leave to be honest in any phrase, in any 
 compliment whatsoever. Shall I confess myself to you ? 
 I look no higher than I can reach: they are the gods 
 that must ride on winged horses. A lawyer's mule, of a 
 slow pace, will both suit my disposition and business : 
 for, mark me, when a man's mind rides faster than his 
 horse can gallop, they quickly both tire. 
 
 Ant. You would look up to heaven, but I think 
 The devil, that rules i' th' air, stands in your light. loo 
 
 Bos. O, sir, you are lord of the ascendant,'^ chief man : 
 with the duchess; a duke was your cousin-german 
 removed. Say you were lineally descended from King 
 Pepin, or he himself, what of this? search the heads of' 
 the greatest rivers in the world, you shall find them but! 
 bubbles of water. Some would think the souls of princes 
 were brought forth by some more weighty cause, than 
 those of meaner persons: they are deceived, there's the, 
 same hand to them ; the like passions sway them ; 
 the same reason that makes a vicar go to law for a 
 tithe-pig, and undo his neighbours, makes them spoil 
 a whole province, and batter down goodly cities with the 
 cannon. 113 
 
 Enter Duchess and Ladies 
 
 Duch. Your arm, Antonio : do I not grow fat ? 
 I am exceeding short-winded. Bosola, 
 I would have you, sir, provide for me a litter ; 
 Such a one as the Duchess of Florence rode in. 
 
 Bos. The duchess used one when she was great with 
 child. 
 
 Duch. I think she did. Come hither, mend my ruff : ° 
 Here, when ? thou art such a tedious lady ; and 120 
 
 Thy breath smells of lemon peels : " would thou hadst done! 
 Shall I swoon under thy fingers ? I am 
 So troubled with the mother. 
 
 Bos. [Aside.] I fear too much. 
 
SCENE I] THE DUCHESS OF iMALFI 165 
 
 Duch. I have heard you say, that the French courtiers 
 Wear their hats on fore the king. 
 
 Ant. I have seen it. 
 
 Duch. In the presence ? 
 
 Ant. Yes. 
 
 Duch. Why should not we bring up that fashion ? 
 'Tis ceremony more than duty, that consists 
 In the removing of a piece of felt : 
 
 Be you the example of the rest o' th' court, 130 
 
 Put on your hat first. 
 
 Ant. You must pardon me: . 
 
 I have seen, in colder countries than in France, 
 Nobles stand bare to th' prince ; and the distinction 
 Methought showed reverently. 
 
 Bos. I have a present for your grace. 
 
 Duch. For me, sir ? 
 
 Bos. Apricocks, madam. 
 
 Duch. O, sir, where are they ? 
 
 I have heard of none to year." 
 
 Bos. [Aside.] Good, her colour rises. 
 
 Duch. Indeed I thank you ; they are wondrous fair ones : 
 What an unskilful fellow is our gardener ! J4o 
 
 We shall have none this month. 
 
 Bos. Will not your grace pare them ? 
 
 Duch. No : they taste of musk, methinks ; indeed 
 they do. 
 . Bos. I knov/ not : yet I wish your grace had pared 'em. 
 
 Duch. Why? 
 
 Bos. I forgot to tell you, the knave gardener. 
 
 Only to raise his profit by them the sooner, 
 Did ripen them in horse-dung. 
 
 Duch. O, you jest. — 
 
 You shall judge : pray, taste one. 
 
 Ant. Indeed, madam, 
 
 I do not love the fruit. 
 
 Duch. Sir, you are loath 
 
 To rob us of our dainties : 'tis a delicate fruit ; 15° 
 
l66 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act ii 
 
 They say they are restorative. 
 
 Bos. 'Tis a pretty 
 
 Art, this grafting. 
 
 Duch. 'Tis so: a bettering of nature. 
 
 Bos. To make a pippin grow upon a crab, 
 A damson on a black -thorn. — [Aside.] How greedily she 
 
 eats them ! 
 A whirlwind strike off these bawd farthingales ! 
 For, but for that, and the loose-bodied gown, 
 I should have discovered apparently 
 The young springal cutting a caper in her belly. 
 
 Duch. I thank you, Bosola : they were right good ones, 
 If they do not make me sick. 
 
 Ant. How now, madam ? i6i 
 
 Duch. This green fruit and my stomach are not friends : 
 How they swell me ! 
 
 Bos. [Aside.] Nay, you are too much swelled already. 
 
 Duch. O, I am in an extreme cold sweat! 
 
 Bos. I am very sorry. [Exit. 
 
 Duch. Lights to my chamber! O good Antonio, 
 I fear I am undone ! [Exeunt Duchess and Ladies. 
 
 Delio. Lights there, lights ! 
 
 Ant. O my most trusty Delio, we are lost ! 
 I fear she's fallen in labour ; and there's left 
 No time for her remove. 
 
 Delio. Have you prepared 
 
 Those ladies to attend her ? and procured 170; 
 
 That politic safe conveyance for the midwife, 
 Your duchess plotted ? 
 
 Ant. I have. 
 
 Delio. Make use then of this forced occasion : 
 Give out that Bosola hath poisoned her 
 With these apricocks ; that will give some colour 
 For her keeping close. 
 
 Ant. Fie, fie, the physicians 
 
 Will then flock to her. 
 
 Delio. For that you may pretend 
 
SCENE II] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 167 
 
 She'll use some prepared antidote of her own, 
 Lest the physicians should re-poison her. 
 
 Ant. I am lost in amazement: I know not what to 
 think on't. [Exeunt. 180 
 
 Scene 11° 
 
 Enter Bosola 
 
 Bos. So, so, there's no question but her techiness and 
 most vulturous eating of the apricocks, are apparent 
 signs of breeding. 
 
 Enter an Old Lady 
 Now? 
 
 Old Lady. I am in haste, sir. 
 
 Bos. There was a young waiting-woman, had a mon- 
 strous desire to see the glass-house ° — 
 
 Old Lady. Nay, pray let me go. 
 
 Bos. And it was only to know what strange instru- 
 ment it was, should swell up a glass to the fashion of a 
 woman's belly. n 
 
 Old Lady. I will hear no more of the glass-house. You 
 are still abusing women? 
 
 Bos. Who, I? no, only, by the way, now and then, 
 mention your frailties. The orange-tree bears ripe and 
 green fruit and blossoms, altogether : and some of you 
 give entertainment for pure love, but more, for more 
 precious reward. The lusty spring smells well; but 
 drooping autumn tastes well. If we have the same 
 golden showers, that rained in the time of Jupiter the 
 thunderer, you have the same Danaes still, to hold up 
 their laps to receive them. Didst thou never study the 
 mathematics ? 23 
 
 Old Lady. What's that, sir ? 
 
 Bos. Why, to know the trick how to make a many 
 lines meet in one centre. Go, go, give your foster- 
 daughters good counsel : tell them, that the devil takes 
 
l68 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act ii 
 
 delight to hang at a woman's girdle, like a false rusty 
 watch, that she cannot discern how the time passes. 
 
 [Exit Old Lady. 
 
 Enter Antonio, Roderigo, Delio, and Grisolan 
 
 Ant. Shut up the court-gates. 
 
 Rod. Why, sir? what's the danger?; 
 
 Ant. Shut up the posterns presently, and call 31 ' 
 
 All the officers o' th' court. 
 
 Gris. I shall instantly. [Exit. 
 
 Ant. Who keeps the key o' th' park-gate ? 
 
 Rod. Forobosco. 
 
 Ant. Let him bring't presently. 
 
 Enter- Grisolan and Servants 
 
 First Serv. O gentlemen o' th' court, the foulest treason ! 
 
 Bos. [Aside.] If that these apricocks should be 
 poisoned now. 
 Without my knowledge ! 
 
 Serv. There was taken even now a Switzer in the 
 duchess' bedchamber — 
 
 Second Serv. A Switzer ! 
 
 Serv. With a pistol in his great cod-piece. * 40 
 
 Bos. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Serv. The cod-piece was the case for't. 
 
 Second Serv. There was a cunning traitor ; who 
 would have searched his cod-piece ? 
 
 Serv. True, if he had kept out of the ladies' chambers : 
 and all the moulds of his buttons were leaden bullets. 
 
 Second Serv. O wicked cannibal ! a firelock in's cod- 
 piece ! 
 
 Serv. 'Twas a French plot, upon my life. 
 
 Second Serv. To see what the devil can do ! 5^ 
 
 Ant. Are all the officers here ? 
 
 Servants. We are. 
 
 
SCENE II] THE DUCHESS OF MALFl 169 
 
 Ant. Gentlemen, 
 We have lost much plate you know; and but this 
 
 evening 
 Jewels, to the value of four thousand ducats, 
 Are missing in the duchess' cabinet. 
 Are the gates shut ? 
 Serv. Yes. * 
 
 Ant. Tis the duchess' pleasure 
 
 Each officer be locked into his chamber 
 Till the sun-rising ; and to send the keys 
 Of all their chests, and of their outward doors 60 
 
 Into her bedchamber. She is very sick. 
 Rod. At her pleasure. 
 
 Ant. She entreats you tak't not ill: the innocent 
 Shall be more approved by it. 
 Bos. Gentlemen o' th' wood-yard, where's your Switzer 
 
 now? 
 Serv. By this hand, 'twas credibly reported by one 
 o' th' black guard. 
 
 [Exeunt all except Antonio and Delio. 
 Delio. How fares it with the duchess ? 
 Ant. She's exposed 
 
 [Into the worst of torture, pain and fear. 
 Delia. Speak to her all happy comfort. 
 Ant. How I do play the fool with mine own danger ! 
 i^ou are this night, dear friend, to post to Rome : 71 
 
 Vly life Hes in your service. 
 Delio. Do not doubt me. 
 
 Ant. O, 'tis far from me! and yet fear presents me 
 omewhat that looks like danger. 
 Delio. Believe it, 
 
 ,ris but the shadow of your fear, no more : 
 ow superstitiously we mind our evils ! 
 e throwing down salt, or crossing of a hare, 
 leeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse, 
 
 singing of a cricket, are of power 
 b daunt whole man in us. Sir, fare you well : 80 
 
170 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act ii 
 
 I wish you all the joys of a blest father ; 
 
 And, for my faith, lay this unto your breast, 
 
 Old friends, Hke old swords, still are trusted best. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Cariola 
 
 Caj'i. Sir, you are the happy father of a son : 
 Your wife commends him to you. 
 
 Ant, Blessed comfort ! 
 
 For Heaven's sake tend her well : I'll presently 
 Go set a figure for's nativity." [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III° 
 
 Enter Bosola, with a dark lantern 
 
 Bos. Sure I did hear a woman shriek : list, ha ! 
 And the sound came, if I received it right, 
 From the duchess' lodgings. There's some stratagem 
 In the confining all our courtiers 
 To their several wards : I must have part of it ; '^ 
 My intelligence will freeze else. List, again ! 
 It may be 'twas the melancholy bird. 
 Best friend of silence and of soHtariness, 
 The owl, that screamed so. Ha! Antonio! ' 
 
 Enter Antonio 
 
 Ant. I heard some noise. Who's there? what art 
 thou? speak. iq 
 
 Bos. Antonio ? put not your face nor body 
 To such a forced expression of fear : 
 I am Bosola, your friend. 
 
 Ant. Bosola ! 
 
 This mole does undermine me — Heard you not 
 A noise even now ? 
 
 Bos. From whence ? 
 
 Ant. From the duchess' lodging. 
 
THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 171 
 
 Bos. Not I : did you ? 
 
 Ant. I did, or else I dreamed. 
 
 Bos. Let's walk towards it. 
 
 Ant. No: it may be 'twas 
 
 But the rising of the wind. 
 
 Bos. Very likely : 
 
 Methinks 'tis very cold, and yet you sweat. 
 You look wildly. 
 
 Ant. I have been setting a figure 20 
 
 For the duchess' jewels. 
 
 Bos. Ah, and how falls your question ? 
 
 Do you find it radical ? ° 
 
 Ant. What's that to you ? 
 
 'Tis rather to be questioned what design. 
 When all men were commanded to their lodgings, 
 Makes you a night-walker. 
 
 Bos. In sooth I'll tell you : 
 
 Now all the court's asleep, I thought the devil 
 Had least to do here ; I came to say my prayers, 
 And if it do offend you I do so, 
 You are a fine courtier. 
 
 Ant. [Aside.] This fellow will undo me. — 
 
 You gave the duchess apricocks to-day : 30 
 
 Pray heaven they were not poisoned. 
 
 Bos. Poisoned ! a Spanish fig 
 For the imputation." 
 
 Ant. Traitors are ever confident, 
 
 Till they are discovered. There were jewels stol'n too : 
 In my conceit, none are to be suspected 
 More than yourself. 
 
 Bos. You are a false steward. 
 
 Ant. Saucy slave, I'll pull thee up by the roots. 
 
 Bos. May be the ruin mil crush you to pieces. 
 
 Ant. You are an impudent snake indeed, sir. 
 Are you scarce warm,° and do you show your sting ? 40 
 You libel well, sir. 
 
 Bos. No, sir : copy it out, 
 
172 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act i 
 
 And I will set my hand to't. 
 
 Ant. My nose bleeds." 
 
 One that were superstitious would count 
 This ominous, when it merely comes by chance : 
 Two letters, that are wrought" here for my name. 
 Are drowned in blood: mere accident. For you, sir, 
 I'll take order: [Aside.] i' th' morn you shall be safe — 
 'Tis that must colour her lying-in. — 
 Sir, this door you pass not : . 
 
 I do not hold it fit that you come near 5° 
 
 The duchess' lodgings, till you have quit yourself. — 
 [Aside.] The great are Hke the base, nay, they are the 
 
 same. 
 When they seek shameful ways to avoid shame. [Exit. 
 
 Bos. Antonio hereabout did drop a paper. 
 Some of your help, false friend." O, here it is : 
 What's here ? a child's nativity" calculated ! s^ 
 
 The Duchess was delivered of a son, Hween the hours 
 twelve and one in the night, Anno Dom. 1504 (that's this 
 year), decimo nono Decemhris (that's this night), taken 
 according to the meridian of Malfi (that's our Duchess: 
 happy discovery !) The lord of the first house being com- 
 bust in the ascendant, signifies short life; and Mars be- 
 ing in a human sign, joined to the tail of the Dragon, in the. 
 eighth house, doth threaten a violent death. Ccetera non 
 scrutantur. 
 
 Why, now 'tis most apparent : this precise fellow 
 Is the duchess' bawd — I have it to my wish ! 
 This is a parcel of intelligency 
 Our courtiers were cased up for : it needs must follow, 
 That I must be committed, on pretence 7c 
 
 Of poisoning her ; which I'll endure, and laugh at. 
 If one could find the father now ! but that 
 Time will discover. Old Castruccio 
 I' th' morning posts to Rome : by him I'll send 
 A letter, that shall make her brothers' galls 
 O'erfiow their Hvers. This was a thrifty way. 
 
 
SCENE IV] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 1 73 
 
 Though lust do mask in ne'er so strange disguise, 
 
 She's oft found witty, but is never wise. [Exit. 
 
 Scene IV ° 
 Enter Cardinal and Julia 
 
 Card. Sit: thou art my best of wishes. Prithee tell me, 
 What trick didst thou invent to come to Rome 
 Without thy husband ? 
 
 Julia. Why, my lord, I told him 
 
 I came to visit an old anchorite , 
 Here, for devotion. 
 
 Card. Thou art a witty false one ; 
 
 I mean, to him. 
 
 Julia. You have prevailed with me 
 
 Beyond my strongest thoughts : I would not now 
 Find you inconstant. 
 
 Card. Do not put thyself 
 
 To such a voluntary torture, which proceeds 
 Out of your own guilt. 
 
 Julia. How, my lord ? 
 
 Card. You fear 10 
 
 My constancy, because you have approved 
 Those giddy and wild turnings in yourself. 
 
 Julia. Did you e'er find them ? 
 
 Card. Sooth, generally ; for women, 
 
 A man might strive to make glass malleable, 
 Ere he should make them fixed. 
 
 Julia. So, my lord. 
 
 Card. We had need go borrow that fantastic glass, 
 Invented by Galileo " the Florentine, 
 To view another spacious world i' th' moon. 
 And look to find a constant woman there. 
 
 Julia. This is very well, my lord. 
 
 Card. Why do you weep ? 20 
 
 Are tears your justification? the self-same tears 
 
174 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act i 
 
 Will fall into your husband's bosom, lady, 
 With a loud protestation that you love him 
 Above the world. Come, I'll love you wisely ; 
 That's jealousy ; since I am very certain 
 You cannot make me cuckold. 
 
 Julia. I'll go home 
 
 To my husband. 
 
 Card. You may thank me, lady : 
 
 I have taken you off your melancholy perch, 
 Bore you upon my fist, and showed you game. 
 And let you fly at it."^ — I pray thee, kiss me. — 3' 
 
 When thou wast with thy husband, thou wast watched 
 Like a tame elephant : — (still you are to thank me :) — 
 Thou hadst only kisses from him, and high feeding ; 
 But what delight was that ? 'twas just like one 
 That hath a little fingering on the lute. 
 Yet cannot tune it : — still you are to thank me. 
 
 Julia. You told me of a piteous wound i' th' heart, 
 And a sick liver, when you wooed me first, 
 And spake like one in physic.*^ 
 
 Card. Who's that? — 
 
 Enter Servant 
 
 Rest firm, for my affection to thee, 4< 
 
 Lightning moves slow to't. 
 
 Serv. Madam, a gentleman, 
 
 That's come post from Malfi, desires to see you. 
 
 Card. Let him enter : I'll withdraw. [ExU^ 
 
 Serv. He says. 
 
 Your husband, old Castruccio, is come to Rome. 
 
 Most pitifully tired with riding post. [ExU, 
 
 Enter Delio 
 
 Julia. Signior Delio ! 'tis one of my old suitors. 
 Delio. I was bold to come and see you. 
 
 t 
 
SCENE IV] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 1 75 
 
 Julia. Sir, you are welcome. 
 
 Delio. Do you lie here ? 
 
 Julia. Sure, your own experience 
 
 Will satisfy you, no : our Roman prelates 
 Do not keep lodging for ladies. 
 
 Delio. Very well : 5° 
 
 I have brought you no commendations from your husband, 
 For I know none by him. 
 
 Julia. I hear he's come to Rome. 
 
 Delio. I never knew man and beast, of a horse and a 
 knight, 
 ^ iSo weary of each other ; if he had had a good back, 
 He would have undertook to have borne his horse. 
 His breech was so pitifully sore. 
 
 Julia. Your laughter 
 
 Is my pity."^ 
 
 Delio. Lady, I know not whether 
 
 You want money, but I have brought you some. 
 
 Julia. From my husband ? 
 
 Delio. No, from mine own allowance. 
 
 Julia. I must hear the condition, ere I be bound to 
 take it. 60 
 
 Delio. Look on't, 'tis gold ; hath it not a fine colour ? 
 
 Julia. I have a bird more beautiful. 
 
 Delio. Try the sound on't. 
 
 Julia. A lute-string far exceeds it : 
 t hath no smell, like cassia, or civet ; 
 ^or is it physical," though some fond doctors 
 ersuade us seeth't in cullises." I'll tell you, 
 ^s is a creature bred by — 
 
 Enter Servant 
 
 Sen). Your husband's come, 
 
 ath delivered a letter to the Duke of Calabria, 
 'hat to my thinking, hath put him out of his wits. [Exit. 
 Julia. Sir, you hear : 7° 
 
1/6 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act i 
 
 Pray let me know your business, and your suit, 
 As briefly as can be. 
 
 Delio. With good speed: I would wish you. 
 At such time as you are non-resident 
 With your husband, my mistress. 
 
 Julia. Sir, I'll go ask my husband if I shall. 
 And straight return your answer. [Exit 
 
 Delio. Very fine. 
 
 Is this her wit, or honesty, that speaks thus ? 
 I heard one say the duke was highly moved 
 With a letter sent from Malfi. I do fear s 
 
 Antonio is betrayed : how fearfully 
 Shows his ambition now ! unfortunate fortune ! 
 They pass through whirlpools, and deep woes to shun, 
 Who the event weigh, ere the action's done. [Exit 
 
 Scene V^ 
 Enter Cardinal, and Ferdinand with a letter 
 
 I 
 
 Ferd. I have this night digged up a mandrake. 
 
 Card. Say you ' 
 
 Ferd. And I am grown mad with't. 
 
 Card. What's the prodigy '. 
 
 Ferd. Read there, a sister damned; she's loose i' th 
 hilts ;° 
 Grown a notorious strumpet. 
 
 Card. Speak lower. 
 
 Ferd. Lower ! 
 
 Rogues do not whisper't now, but seek to publish't 
 (As servants do the bounty of their lords) 
 Aloud ; and with a covetous searching eye. 
 To mark who note them. O, confusion seize her ! 
 She hath had most cunning bawds to serve her turn 
 And more secure conveyances for lust. 
 Than towns of garrison for service. 
 
 Card. Is't possible ? 
 
SCENE v] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 177 
 
 Can this be certain ? 
 
 Ferd. Rhubarb, O, for rhubarb, 
 
 To purge this choler ! here's the cursed day 
 To prompt my memory ; and here't shall stick 
 Till of her bleeding heart I make a sponge 
 To wipe it out. 
 
 Card. Why do you make yourself 
 
 So wild a tempest ? 
 
 Ferd. Would I could be one, 
 
 That I might toss her palace 'bout her ears, 
 ^Root up her goodly forests, blast her meads, 
 And lay her general territory a's waste, 20 
 
 As she hath done her honours. 
 
 Card. Shall our blood, 
 
 if The royal blood of Arragon and Castile, 
 Be thus attainted ? 
 
 Ferd. Apply desperate physic : 
 
 We must not now use balsamum, but fire. 
 The smarting cupping-glass, for that's the mean 
 To purge infected blood, such blood as hers. 
 There is a kind of pity in mine eye, 
 '11 give it to my handkerchief ; and now 'tis here 
 '11 bequeath this to her bastard. 
 Card. What to do ? 
 
 Ferd. Why, to make soft lint for his mother's wounds, 
 ^en I have hewed her to pieces. 
 
 Card. Cursed creature ! 31 
 
 Jnequal nature, to place women's hearts 
 »o far upon the left side ! 
 
 Ferd. Foolish men, 
 
 ?hat e'er will trust their honour in a bark 
 flade of so slight weak bulrush as is woman, 
 
 Ipt every minute to sink it ! 
 Card. Thus ignorance, when it hath purchased honour, 
 ; cannot wield it. 
 Ferd. Methinks I see her laughing : — 
 
 xcellent hyena ! Talk to me somewhat, quickly, 
 WEBSTER AND TOURNEUR — 12 
 
178 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act i: 
 
 Or my imagination will carry me 4 
 
 To see her in the shameful act of sin. 
 
 Card. With whom ? 
 
 Ferd. Happily with some strong-thighed bargeman 
 Or one o' th' wood-yard, that can quoit the sledge, 
 Or toss the bar, or else some lovely squire 
 That carries coals up to her privy lodgings. 
 
 Card. You fly beyond your reason. 
 
 Ferd. Go to, mistress ! 
 
 'Tis not your whore's milk that shall quench my wildfire 
 But your whore's blood. 
 
 Card. How idly shows this rage, which carries you. 
 As men conveyed by witches through the air, 5' 
 
 On violent whirlwinds ! this intemperate noise 
 Fitly resembles deaf men's shrill discourse, 
 Who talk aloud, thinking all other men 
 To have their imperfection. 
 
 Ferd. Have not you 
 
 My palsy ? 
 
 Card. Yes ; I can be angry 
 
 Without this rupture : there is not in nature 
 A thing that makes man so deformed, so beastly, 
 As doth intemperate anger. Chide yourself. 
 You have divers men, who never yet expressed 
 Their strong desire of rest, but by unrest, 6. 
 
 By vexing of themselves. Come, put yourself 
 In tune. 
 
 Ferd. So : I will only study to seem 
 The thing I am not. I could kill her now, 
 In you, or in myself ; for I do think 
 It is some sin in us, heaven doth revenge 
 By her. 
 
 Card. Are you stark mad ? 
 
 Ferd. I would have their bodie 
 
 Burnt in a coal-pit with the ventage stopped. 
 That their cursed smoke might not ascend to heaven ; 
 Or dip the sheets they lie in, in pitch or sulphur, 
 
 i 
 
BCENEV] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 179 
 
 Wrap them in't, and then hght them like a match ; 70 
 Or else to boil their bastard to a cuUis 
 And give't his lecherous father, to renew 
 The sin of his back. 
 
 Card. I'll leave you. 
 
 Ferd. Nay, I have done. 
 
 I am confident, had I been damned in hell, 
 And should have heard of this, it would have put me 
 Into a cold sweat. In, in, I'll go sleep. 
 e] Till I know who leaps my sister, I'll not stir : 
 That known, I'll find scorpions to string my whips. 
 And fix her in a general eclipse." [Exeunt. 
 
ACT THE THIRD 
 
 Scene I'^ 
 
 Enter Antonio and Delio 
 
 Ant. Our noble friend, my most beloved Delio ! 
 O, you have been a stranger long at court : 
 Came you along with the lord Ferdinand ? 
 
 Delio. I did, sir : and how fares your noble duchess ? 
 
 Ant. Right fortunately well : she's an excellent 
 Feeder of pedigrees ; since you last saw her, 
 She hath had two children more," a son and daughter. 
 
 Delio. Methinks 'twas yesterday ; let me but wink, 
 And not behold your face — which to mine eye 
 Is somewhat leaner — verily I should dream i 
 
 It were within this half hour. 
 
 Ant. You have not been in law, friend Delio, 
 Nor in prison, nor a suitor at the court, 
 Nor begged the reversion of some great man's place," 
 Nor troubled with an old wife, which doth make 
 Your time so insensibly hasten. 
 
 Delio. Pray, sir, tell me, 
 
 Hath not this news arrived yet to the ear 
 Of the lord Cardinal ? 
 
 Ant. I fear it hath: 
 
 The lord Ferdinand, that's newly come to court, 
 Doth bear himself right dangerously. 
 
 Delio. Pray, why ? 2* 
 
 Ant. He is so quiet, that he seems to sleep 
 The tempest out, as dormice do in winter: 
 Those houses that are haunted, are most still 
 Till the devil be up. 
 
 Delio. What say the common people ? 
 
 180 
 
 i 
 
SCENE I] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI l8l 
 
 Ant. The common rabble do directly say- 
 She is a strumpet. 
 
 Delio. And your graver heads, 
 
 Which would be politic, what censure they ? 
 
 Ant. They do observe, I grow to infinite purchase, 
 The left hand way ; and all suppose the duchess 
 Would amend it, if she could : for, say they, 3° 
 
 Great princes, though they grudge their officers 
 Should have such large and unconfined means 
 To get wealth under them, will not complain, 
 Lest thereby they should make them odious 
 Unto the people ; for other obligation 
 Of love or marriage, between her and me, 
 They never dream of. 
 
 Delio. The lord Ferdinand 
 
 Is going to bed. 
 
 Enter Duchess, Ferdinand, and Bosola 
 
 Ferd. I'll instantly to bed. 
 
 For I am weary. I am to bespeak 
 A husband for you. 
 
 Duck. For me, sir! pray who is't ? 40 
 
 Ferd. The great Count Malateste. 
 
 Duch. • Fie upon him : 
 
 A. count ! he's a mere stick of sugar-candy ; 
 You may look quite thorough him. When I choose 
 \ husband, I will marry for your honour. 
 
 Ferd. You shall do well in't. How is't, worthy 
 Antonio ? 
 
 Duch. But, sir, I am to have private conference with 
 you 
 
 \bout a scandalous report is spread 
 'ouching mine honour. 
 
 Ferd. Let me be ever deaf to't : 
 
 ne of Pasquil's paper-bullets," court-calumny, 
 
 pestilent air, which princes' palaces 5° 
 
l82 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [actii. 
 
 Are seldom purged of. Yet, say that it were true, 
 
 I pour it in your bosom : my fixed love 
 
 Would strongly excuse, extenuate, nay, deny 
 
 Faults, were they apparent in you. Go, be safe 
 
 In your own innocency. | 
 
 Duch. O blessed comfort ! ! 
 
 This deadly air is purged. 
 
 [Exeunt all hut Ferdinand and Bosola. 
 
 Ferd. Her guilt treads on 
 
 Hot burning coulters." Now, Bosola, 
 How thrives our intelligence ? 
 
 Bos. Sir, uncertainly : 
 
 'Tis rumoured she hath had three bastards, but 
 By whom, we may go read i' th' stars. 
 
 Ferd. Why some 6c 
 
 Hold opinion, all things are written there. 
 
 Bos. Yes, if we could find spectacles to read them. 
 I do suspect, there hath been some sorcery 
 Used on the duchess. 
 
 Ferd. Sorcery ! to what purpose ? 
 
 Bos. To make her dote on some desertless fellow. 
 She shames to acknowledge. 
 
 Ferd. Can your faith give way 
 
 To think there's power in potions, or in charms, 
 To make us love whether we will or no ? 
 
 Bos. Most certainly. 
 
 Ferd. Away, these are mere guUeries, horrid things, 70 
 Invented by some cheating mountebanks, 
 To abuse us. Do you think that herbs, or charms, 
 Can force the will ? Some trials have been made 
 In this foolish practice, but the ingredients 
 Were lenitive poisons, such as are of force 
 To make the patient mad ; and straight the witch 
 Swears by equivocation they are in love. | 
 
 The witchcraft lies in her rank blood. This night ^ 
 
 I will force confession from her. You told me ') 
 
 You had got, within these two days, a false key 
 
 ! 
 
SCENE iij THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 183 
 
 Into her bedchamber. 
 
 Bos. I have. 
 
 Ferd. As I would wish. 
 
 Bos. What do you intend to do ? 
 
 Ferd. Can you guess ? 
 
 Bos. No. 
 
 Ferd. Do not ask then : 
 
 He that can compass me, and know my drifts, 
 May say he hath put a girdle 'bout the world, 
 And sounded all her quicksands. 
 
 Bos. I do not 
 
 Think so. 
 
 Ferd. What do you think, then, pray ? 
 
 Bos. That you 
 
 Are your own chronicle too much, and grossly 
 Flatter yourself. 
 
 Ferd. Give me thy hand ; I thank thee : 
 
 I never gave pension but to flatterers, 
 Till I entertained thee. Farewell. 9° 
 
 That friend a great man's ruin strongly checks, 
 Who rails into his beUef all his defects. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene 11° 
 Enter Duchess, Antonio, and Cariola 
 
 Duch. Bring me the casket hither, and the glass, 
 ifou get no lodging here to night, my lord. 
 
 Ant. Indeed, I must persuade one. 
 
 Duch. Very good : 
 
 • hope in time 'twill grow into a custom, 
 rhat noblemen shall come with cap and knee. 
 To purchase a night's lodging of their wives. 
 
 Ant. I must lie here. 
 
 Duch. Must ! you are a lord of misrule." 
 
 Ant. Indeed, my rule is only in the night. 
 
 Duch. To what use will you put me ? 
 
 
l84 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act ii 
 
 Ant. We'll sleep together 
 
 Duch. Alas, what pleasure can two lovers find in sleep 
 
 Cari. My lord, I lie with her often ; and I know i: 
 She'll much disquiet you. 
 
 Ant. See, you are complained of. : 
 
 Cari. For she's the sprawlingest bedfellow. 
 
 Ant. I shall hke her the better for that. 
 
 Cari. Sir, shall I ask you a question ? 
 
 Ant. Aye, pray thee, Cariola. 
 
 Cari. Wherefore still, when you He with my lady. 
 Do you rise so early ? 
 
 Ant. Labouring men 
 
 Count the clock oftenest, Cariola ; 
 Are glad when their task's ended. 
 
 Duch. I'll stop your mouth. 2c 
 
 Ant. Nay, that's but one; Venus had two soft doves 
 To draw her chariot ; I must have another. 
 When wilt thou marry, Cariola ? 
 
 Cari. Never, my lord. 
 
 Ant. O, fie upon this single life ! forego it. 
 We read how Daphne, for her peevish flight. 
 Became a fruitless bay-tree ; Syrinx turned 
 To the pale empty reed ; Anaxarete ° 
 Was frozen into marble : whereas those 
 Which married, or proved kind unto their friends, 
 Were, by a gracious influence, transhaped 30 
 
 Into the olive, pomegranate, mulberry. 
 Became flowers, precious stones, or eminent stars. 
 
 Cari. This is a vain poetry ; but I pray you tell me, 
 If there were proposed me, wisdom, riches, and beauty, 
 In three several young men, which should I choose ? 
 
 Ant. 'Tis a hard question: this was Paris' case. 
 And he was blind in't, and there was great cause ; 
 For how was't possible he could judge right. 
 Having three amorous goddesses in view. 
 And they stark naked ? 'twas a motion ° 40 
 
 Were able to benight the apprehension 
 
 M 
 
 1 
 
SCENE II] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 185 
 
 Of the severest counsellor of Europe. 
 
 Now I look on both your faces so well formed, 
 
 It puts me in mind of a question I would ask. 
 
 Cari. Whatis't? 
 
 Ant. I do wonder why hard-favoured ladies, 
 
 For the most part, keep worse-favoured waiting- women 
 To attend them, and cannot endure fair ones. 
 
 Duch. 0, that's soon answered. 
 Did you ever in your life know an ill painter 
 Desire to have his dwelling next door to the shop 50 
 
 Of an excellent picture-maker ? 'twould disgrace 
 His face-making, and undo him. I prithee, 
 When were we so merry ? My hair tangles. 
 
 Ant. Pray thee, Cariola, let's steal forth the room. 
 And let her talk to herself : I have divers times 
 .Served her the like, when she hath chafed extremely, 
 love to see her angry. Softly, Cariola. [Exeunt. 
 
 Duch. Doth not the colour of my hair 'gin to change ? 
 ^^en I wax grey, I shall have all the court 
 Powder their hair with arras to be like me. 63 
 
 You have cause to love me ; I entered you into my heart 
 
 Enter Ferdinand unseen 
 
 Before you would vouchsafe to call for the keys. 
 
 iVe shall one day have my brothers take you napping : 
 
 Vlethinks his presence, being now at court, 
 
 should make you keep your own bed ; but you'll say 
 
 ove mixed with fear is swTetest. I'll assure you, 
 ifou shall get no more children till my brothers 
 [Consent to be your gossips. Have you lost your tongue ? 
 Tis welcome : ° 
 ■"or know, whether I am doomed to Hve or die, 70 
 
 can do both hke a prince. 
 
 [Ferdinand gives her a poniard. 
 Ferd. Die then quickly, 
 
 irtue, where art thou hid ? what hideous thing 
 
l86 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act in 
 
 Is it that doth eclipse thee ? 
 
 Duch. Pray, sir, hear me. 
 
 Ferd. Or is it true thou art but a bare name, 
 And no essential thing ? 
 
 Duch. Sir — 
 
 Ferd. Do not speak, 
 
 Duch. No, sir : 
 I will plant my soul in mine ears, to hear you. 
 
 Ferd. O most imperfect light of human reason, 
 That mak'st us so unhappy to foresee 
 What we can least prevent ! Pursue thy wishes, 
 And glory in them : there's in shame no comfort. 
 But to be past all bounds and sense of shame. 
 
 Duch. I pray, sir, hear me : I am married. 
 
 Ferd. So! 
 
 Duch. Happily, not to your liking : but for that, 
 Alas, your shears do come untimely now 
 To clip the bird's wings, that's already flown 1 
 Will you see my husband ? 
 
 Ferd. Yes, if I could change 
 
 Eyes with a basilisk." 
 
 Duch. Sure, you came hither 
 
 By his confederacy. 
 
 Ferd. The howling of a wolf 
 
 Is music to thee, screech-owl : prithee, peace. 
 Whate'er thou art that hast enjoyed my sister, 
 For I am sure thou hears't me, for thine own sake 
 Let me not know thee. I came hither prepared 
 To work thy discovery ; " yet am now persuaded 
 It would beget such violent effects 
 As would damn us both. I would not for ten millions 
 I had beheld thee : therefore use all means 
 I never may have knowledge of thy name ; 
 Enjoy thy lust still, and a wretched life. 
 On that condition. And for thee, vile woman, i 
 
 If thou do wish thy lecher may grow old 
 In thy embracements, I would have thee build 
 
i:NEii] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 187 
 
 5uch a room for him as our anchorites 
 
 To holier use inhabit. Let not the sun 
 
 5hine on him, till he's dead ; let dogs and monkeys 
 
 3nly converse with him, and such dumb things 
 
 To whom nature denies use to sound his name ; 
 
 Do not keep a paraquito, lest she learn it ; 
 
 [f thou do love him, cut out thine own tongue 
 
 est it bewray him. 
 
 Duch. Why might not I marry ? no 
 
 [ have not gone about in this to create 
 \ny new world or custom. 
 
 Ferd. Thou art undone ; 
 
 \nd thou hast ta'en that massy sheet of lead 
 That hid thy husband's bones, and folded it 
 \bout my heart. 
 
 Duch. Mine bleeds for't ! 
 
 Ferd. Thine! thy heart ! 
 
 ^at should I name't, unless a hollow bullet 
 Filled with unquenchable wildfire ? 
 
 Duch. You are in this 
 
 Too strict ; and were you not my princely brother, 
 [ would say, too wilful : my reputation 
 [s safe. 
 
 Ferd. Dost thou know what reputation is ? 120 
 
 ['11 tell thee, — to small purpose, since th' instruction 
 Comes now too late. 
 
 Upon a time Reputation, Love, and Death 
 Would travel o'er the world ; and it was concluded 
 That they should part, and take three several ways. 
 Death told them, they should find him in great battles. 
 Or cities plagued with plagues : Love gives them counsel 
 To inquire for him 'mongst unambitious shepherds, 
 Where dowries were not talked of, and sometimes 
 Mongst quiet kindred, that had nothing left 130 
 
 By their dead parents : 'Stay,' quoth Reputation, 
 * Do not forsake me ; for it is my nature 
 If once I part from any man I meet, 
 
1 88 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act ii 
 
 I am never found again.' And so, for you ; 
 You have shook hands with Reputation, 
 And made him invisible. So fare you well : 
 I will never see you more. 
 
 Duch. Why should only I, 
 
 Of all the other princes of the world, 
 Be cased up, like a holy relic ? I have youth. 
 And a Httle beauty. 
 
 Ferd. So you have some virgins i4' 
 
 That are witches." I will never see thee more. [Exit 
 
 Enter Antonio with a pistol, and Cariola 
 
 Duch. You saw this apparition ? 
 
 Ant. Yes: we are 
 
 Betrayed. How came he hither ? I should turn 
 This to thee, for that. [To Cariola 
 
 Cari. Pray, sir, do; and when 
 
 That you have cleft my heart, you shall read there 
 Mine innocence. 
 
 Duch. That gallery gave him entrance. 
 
 Ant. I would this terrible thing would come again, 
 That, standing on my guard, I might relate 
 My warrantable love ! Ha ! what means this ? 
 
 [She shows the poniard. 
 
 Duch. He left this with me. 
 
 Ant. And it seems, did wish 15c 
 
 You would use it on yourself. 
 
 Duch. His action seemed 
 
 To intend so much. 
 
 Ant. This hath a handle to't. 
 
 As well as a point : turn it towards him, and 
 So fasten the keen edge in his rank gall. 
 How now ? who knocks ? more earthquakes ' 
 
 Duch. I stand 
 
 As if a mine beneath my feet were ready 
 To be blown up. 
 
ENEii] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 189 
 
 Cari. 'Tis Bosola. 
 
 Duch. Away! 
 
 ) misery ! methinks unjust actions 
 Jhould wear these masks and curtains, and not we. 
 kTou must instantly part hence: I have fashioned it 
 already. [Exit Antonio. 160 
 
 Enter Bosola 
 
 Bos. The duke your brother is ta'en up in a whirlwind ; 
 rLath took horse, and's rid post to Rome. 
 
 Duch. So late ! 
 
 Bos. He told me, as he mounted into th' saddle, 
 ^ou were undone. 
 
 Duch. Indeed, I am very near it. 
 
 Bos. What's the matter ? 
 
 Duch. Antonio, the master of our household, 
 ^ath dealt so falsely with me in's accounts : 
 My brother stood engaged with me for money 
 ra'en up of certain Neapolitan Jews, 
 \.nd Antonio lets the bonds be forfeit. 17° 
 
 Bos. Strange ! — this is cunning ! 
 
 Duch. And hereupon 
 
 My brother's bills at Naples are protested 
 \gainst. Call up our officers. 
 
 Bos. I shall. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Antonio 
 
 Duch. The place that you must fly to, is Ancona : 
 3ire a house there ; I'll send after you 
 
 y treasure, and my jewels. Our weak safety 
 ^uns upon enginous wheels : ° short syllables, 
 ^ust stand for periods. I must now accuse you 
 3f such a feigned crime, as Tasso calls 
 Magnanima menzogna, a noble lie, 180 
 
 Cause it must shield our honours: — hark, they are 
 coming ! 
 
I 
 
 190 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act ii 
 
 Enter Bosola and Gentlemen 
 
 Ant. Will your grace hear me? 
 
 Duch. I have got well by you ; you have yielded m 
 A million of loss : I am like to inherit 
 The people's curses for your stewardship. 
 You had the trick in audit-time to be sick, 
 Till I had signed your quietus; and that cured you 
 Without help of a doctor. Gentlemen, 
 I would have this man be an example to you all. 
 So shall you hold my favour ; I pray, let him ;° 191 
 
 For h'as done that, alas ! you would not think of. 
 And, because I intend to be rid of him, 
 I mean not to publish. Use your fortune elsewhere. 
 
 Ant. I am strongly armed to brook my overthrow 
 As commonly men bear with a hard year, 
 I will not blame the cause on't ; but do think 
 The necessity of my malevolent star 
 Procures this, not her humour. O, the inconstant 
 And rotten ground of service ! you may see, 
 'Tis even like him, that in a winter night, 
 Takes a long slumber o'er a dying fiire, 
 A-loath to part from't ; yet parts thence as cold, 
 As when he first sat down. 
 
 Duch. We do confiscate 
 
 Towards the satisfying of your accounts. 
 All that you have. 
 
 Ant. I am all yours ; and 'tis very fit 
 
 All mine should be so. 
 
 Duch. So, sir, you have your pass. 
 
 Ant. You may see, gentlemen, what it is to serve 
 A prince with body and soul. [Exit 
 
 Bos. Here's an example for extortion : what moistun 
 is drawn out of the sea, when foul weather comes, pouri 
 down, and runs into the sea again. 21 
 
 Duch. I would know what are your opinions 
 Of this Antonio. 
 
SCENE II] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 19I 
 
 Second Off. He could not abide to see a pig's head 
 aping : " I thought your grace would find him a Jew. 
 
 Third Of. I would you had been his officer, for your 
 3wn sake. 
 
 Fourth Of. You would have had more money. 
 
 First Of. He stopped his ears with black wool, and to 
 those came to him for money, said he was thick of hearing. 
 
 Second Of. Some said he was an hermaphrodite, for 
 ae could not abide a woman. 222 
 
 Fourth Of. How scurvy proud he would look, when 
 :he treasury was full ! well, let him go. 
 
 First Of. Yes, and the chippings of the buttery ° fly 
 ifter him, to scour his gold chain. [Exeunt. 
 
 Duch. Leave us. What do you think of these ? 
 
 Bos. That these are rogues, that in's prosperity, 
 3ut to have waited on his fortune, could have wished 
 lis dirty stirrup rivetted through their noses ; ° 230 
 
 l\nd followed after's mule, like a bear in a ring, 
 ^ould have prostituted their daughters to his lust ; 
 iVIade their first-born intelligencers; thought none 
 
 happy 
 
 But such as were born under his blessed planet, 
 f\nd wore his Hvery: and do these Hce drop off now? 
 ^ell, never look to have the like again : 
 He hath left a sort of flattering rogues behind him ; 
 rheir doom must follow. Princes pay flatterers 
 tn their own money : flatterers dissemble their vices, 
 Knd they dissemble their lies ; that's justice. 240 
 
 ^las, poor gentleman ! 
 
 Duch. Poor ! he hath amply filled his coffers. 
 
 Bos. Sure, he was too honest. Plutus, the god of riches, 
 iVhen he's sent by Jupiter to any man, 
 He goes limping, to signify that wealth 
 That comes on God's name, comes slowly ; but when he's 
 
 sent 
 
 3n the devil's errand, he rides post and comes in by 
 scuttles. 
 
192 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [a( 
 
 Let me show you, what a most unvalued jewel 
 
 You have in a wanton humour thrown away, 
 
 To bless the man shall find him. He was an excellen 
 
 Courtier, and most faithful; a soldier, that thought i 
 
 As beastly to know his own value too Httle, 25: 
 
 As devilish to acknowledge it too much. 
 
 Both his virtue and form deserved a far better fortune 
 
 His discourse rather delighted to judge itself, than shov 
 
 itself: 
 His breast was filled with all perfection, 
 And yet it seemed a private whispering-room, 
 It made so little noise oft. 
 
 Duch. But he was basely descended. 
 
 Bos. Will you make yourself a mercenary herald, 26< 
 Rather to examine men's pedigrees, than virtues ? 
 You shall want him : 
 
 For know an honest statesman to a prince, 
 Is like a cedar planted by a spring : 
 The spring bathes the tree's root, the grateful tree 
 Rewards it with his shadow — you have not done so. 
 I would sooner swim to the Bermoothes " on 
 Two politicians' rotten bladders, tied 
 Together with an intelligencer's heart-string. 
 Than depend on so changeable a prince's favour. 27c 
 
 Fare thee well, Antonio ! since the malice of the world 
 Would needs down with thee, it cannot be said yet 
 That any ill happened unto thee. 
 Considering thy fall was accompanied with virtue. 
 
 Duch, O, you render me excellent music ! 
 
 Bos. Say you ? 
 
 Duch. This good one that you speak of, is my husband. 
 
 Bos. Do I not dream ? can this ambitious age 
 Have so much goodness in't, as to prefer 
 A man merely for worth, without these shadows 
 Of wealth and painted honours ? possible ? ; 
 
 Duch. I have had three children by him. 
 
 Bos. Fortunate lad 
 
Scene iij THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 193 
 
 For you have made your private nuptial bed 
 
 The humble and fair seminary of peace. 
 
 No question but many an unbeneficed scholar 
 
 Shall pray for you for this deed, and rejoice 
 
 That some preferment in the world can yet 
 
 A.rise from merit. The virgins of your land 
 
 That have no dowries, shall hope your example 
 
 W^ill raise them to rich husbands. Should you want 
 
 Soldiers, 'twould make the very Turks and Moors 290 
 
 Turn Christians, and serve you for this act. 
 
 Last, the neglected poets of your time, 
 
 [n honour of this trophy of a man, 
 
 Raised by that curious engine, your white hand, 
 
 Shall thank you, in your grave, for't ; and make that 
 
 More reverend than all the cabinets 
 
 Df living princes. For Antonio, 
 
 3is fame shall likewise flow from many a pen, 
 
 A^hen heralds shall want coats to sell to men. 
 
 Duch. As I taste comfort in this friendly speech, 300 
 50 would I find concealment. 
 
 Bos. O, the secret of my prince, 
 A^hich I will wear on th' inside of my heart ! 
 
 Duch. You shall take charge of all my coin and jewels, 
 \.nd follow him ; for he retires himself 
 To Ancona. 
 
 Bos. So. 
 
 Duch. Whither, within few days, 
 
 ', mean to follow thee. 
 
 Bos. Let me think : 
 
 L would wish your grace to feign a pilgrimage 
 To our lady of Loretto, ° scarce seven leagues 
 'rom fair Ancona; so may you depart 310 
 
 four country with more honour, and your flight 
 »ViU seem a princely progress, retaining 
 i(^our usual train about you. 
 
 Duch. Sir, your direction 
 
 >hall lead me by the hand. 
 
194 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act i i 
 
 Cari. In my opinion, she were better progress j 
 
 To the baths at Lucca, or go visit the Spa ° ! 
 
 In Germany ; for, if you will believe me, ! 
 
 I do not like this jesting with religion, i 
 
 This feigned pilgrimage. . 
 
 Duch. Thou art a superstitious fool ! 32 1 
 
 Prepare us instantly for our departure. 
 Past sorrows, let us moderately lament them, 
 For those to come, seek wisely to prevent them. 
 
 [Exeunt Duchess and Cariola 
 
 Bos. A politician is the devil's quilted anvil ; 
 He fashions all sins on him, and the blows 
 Are never heard : he may work in a lady's chamber, 
 As here for proof. What rests but I reveal 
 All to my lord ? O, this base quality 
 Of intelligencer ! why, every quality i'th' world 
 Prefers but gain or commendation. 33 
 
 Now, for this act I am certain to be raised, 
 And men that paint weeds to the life, are praised. [Exii 
 
 Scene III° 
 
 Enter Cardinal, Ferdinand, Malateste, Pescara 
 Delio and Silvio 
 
 Card. Must we turn soldier then ? 
 
 Mai. The emperor. 
 
 Hearing your worth that way, ere you attained 
 This reverend garment, joins you in commission 
 With the right fortunate soldier, the Marquis of Pescara, 
 And the famous Lannoy. 
 
 Card. He that had the honour 
 
 Of taking the French king prisoner ? 
 
 Mai. The same. ^ 
 
 Here's a plot drawn for a new fortification 
 At Naples. [ExiU 
 
 J 
 
SCENE III] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 1 95 
 
 Ferd. This great Count Malateste, I perceive, 
 Hath got employment ? 
 
 Delio. No employment, my lord ; 10 
 
 A marginal note in the muster-book, that he is 
 A voluntary lord." 
 
 Ferd. He's no soldier. 
 
 Delio. He has worn gunpowder in's hollow tooth, for 
 the toothache. 
 
 Sil. He comes to the leaguer with a full intent 
 To eat fresh beef and garlic, means to stay 
 Till the scent be gone, and straight return to court. 
 
 Delio. He hath read all the late service. 
 As the City Chronicle ° relates it : 
 And keeps two pewterers going, ° only to express 
 Battles in model. 
 
 Sil. Then he'll fight by the book. 20 
 
 '^^ Delio. By the almanac, I think. 
 
 To choose good days, and shun the critical ; 
 iThat's his mistress' scarf. 
 
 Sil. Yes, he protests 
 
 He would do much for that taffeta. 
 
 Delio. I think he would run away from a battle. 
 To save it from taking prisoner.*^ 
 
 Sil. He is horribly afraid 
 
 Gunpowder will spoil the perfume on't. 
 
 Delio. I saw a Dutchman break his pate once 
 For calling him pot-gun ; he made his head 
 Have a bore in't like a musket. 3° 
 
 . Sil. I would he had made a touchhole to't. 
 He is indeed a guarded sumpter-cloth, 
 Dnly for the remove of the court. 
 
 Enter Bosola 
 
 Pes. Bosola arrived ! what should be the business ? 
 pome falling out amongst the cardinals. 
 Lhese factions amongst great men, they are hke 
 
 KA 
 
196 THE DUCHESS OF MALFl [act ill 
 
 Foxes, when their heads are divided. 
 
 They carry tire in their tails," and all the country 
 
 About them goes to wrack for't. 
 
 Sil. What's that Bosola? 39 
 
 Delio. I knew him in Padua, — a fantastical scholar, 
 like such who study how many knots was in Hercules' 
 club, of what colour Achilles' beard was, or whether 
 Hector were not troubled with the toothache. He hath 
 studied himself half blear-eyed to know the true symmetry 
 of Ca?sar's nose by a shoeing-horn ; and this he did to 
 gain the name of a speculative man. 
 
 Fes. Mark Prince Ferdinand : 
 A very salamander lives in's eye, 
 To mock the eager violence of fire." 
 
 Sil. That Cardinal hath made more bad faces with his 
 oppression than ever ^Michael Angelo made good ones : 
 he lifts up's nose, like a foul porpoise before a storm. 52 
 
 Pes. The lord Ferdinand laughs. 
 
 Delia. Like a deadly cannon, 
 
 That lightens ere it smokes. 
 
 Pes. These are your true pangs of death, 
 The pangs of life, that struggle with great statesmen. 
 
 Delia. In such a deformed silence, witches whisper 
 Their charms. 
 
 Card. Doth she make religion her riding-hood 
 
 To keep her from the sun and tempest ? 
 
 Ferd. That, that damns her. Methinks her fault and 
 beauty, 60 
 
 Blended together, show like leprosy, 
 The whiter, the fouler. I make it a question 
 Whether her beggarly brats were ever christened. 
 
 Card. I will instantly solicit the state of Ancona 
 To have them banished. 
 
 Ferd. You are for Loretto : 
 
 I shall not be at your ceremony ; fare you well. 
 Write to the Duke of Malfi, my young nephew 
 She had by her first husband, and acquaint him 
 
 
SCENE IV] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 1 97 
 
 With's mother's honesty. 
 
 Bos. I will. 
 
 Ferd. Antonio ! 
 
 A slave that only smelled of ink and counters, 70 
 
 And never in's life looked like a gentleman, 
 But in the audit-time. Go, go presently, 
 Draw me out an hundred and fifty of our horse, 
 And meet me at the fort-bridge. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV 
 
 Enter Two Pilgrims to the Shrine oj our Lady of Loretto 
 
 First Pit. I have not seen a goodlier shrine than this, 
 Yet I have visited many. 
 
 Second Pit. The Cardinal of Arragon 
 
 Is this day to resign his cardinal's hat : 
 His sister duchess likewise is arrived 
 To pay her vow of pilgrimage. I expect 
 A noble ceremony. 
 
 First Pit. No question. They come. 
 
 [Here the ceremony oj the Cardinal's instalment, in 
 the habit of a soldier, perjormed in delivering up 
 his cross, hat, robes, and ring, at the shrine, and in- 
 vesting him with sword, helmet, shield, and spurs: 
 then Antonio, the Duchess, and their children, hav- 
 ing presented themselves at the shrine, are, by a form 
 of banishment in dumb show expressed towards 
 them, by the Cardinal arul the state of Ancona, 
 banished. During all which ceremony, this ditty 
 is sung, to very solemn music, by divers churchmen, 
 and then exeunt : 
 
 Arms and honours deck thy story ,° 
 
 To thy fame's eternal glory : 
 
 Adverse fortune ever fly thee ; 
 
 No disastrous fate come nigh thee. 10 
 
198 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act ill 
 
 I alone will sing thy praises, 
 
 Whom to honour virtue raises ; 
 
 And thy study, that divine is. 
 
 Bent to martial discipline is. 
 
 Lay aside all those robes lie by thee ; 
 
 Crown thy arts with arms, they'll beautify thee. 
 
 O worthy of worthiest name, adorned in this 
 
 manner, 
 Lead bravely thy forces on, under war's warlikel 
 
 banner ! 
 O, may'st thou prove fortunate in all martial courses ! 
 Guide thou still by skill in arts and forces : 
 Victory attend thee nigh, whilst fame sings loud th} 
 
 powers ; 
 Triumphant conquest crown thy head, and blessings 
 
 pour down showers ! 
 
 First Pit. Here's a strange turn of state ! who woulc 
 have thought 
 So great a lady would have matched herself 
 Unto so mean a person ? yet the Cardinal 
 Bears him much too cruel. 
 
 Second Fit. They are banished. 
 
 First Pit. But I would ask what power hath this state 
 Of Ancona, to determine of a free prince ? 
 
 Second Fit. They are a free state, sir, and her brothei 
 showed 
 How that the Pope, forehearing of her looseness. 
 Hath seized into the protection of the church 
 The dukedom, which she held as dowager. 
 
 First Fit. But by what justice ? 
 
 Second Fil. Sure I think by none/ 
 
 Only her brother's instigation. 
 
 First Fil. What was it with such violence he took 
 Off from her finger ? 
 
 Second Fil. 'Twas her wedding ring, 
 
SCENE v] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 199 
 
 Which he vowed shortly he would sacrifice 
 To his revenge. 
 
 First Pil. Alas, Antonio ! 
 
 If that a man be thrust into a well, 
 No matter who sets hand to't, his own weight 40 
 
 Will bring him sooner to th' bottom. Come, let's hence 
 Fortune makes this conclusion general, 
 All things do help th' unhappy man to fall. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V° 
 
 Enter Duchess, Antonio, Children, Cariola, and 
 Servants 
 
 Duch. Banished Ancona ! 
 
 Ant. Yes, you see what power 
 
 Lightens in great men's breath. 
 
 Duch. Is all our train 
 
 Shrunk to this poor remainder ? 
 
 Ant. These poor men, 
 
 A^'hich have got little in your service, vow 
 To take your fortune : but your wiser buntings, 
 1^0 w they are fledged, are gone. 
 
 Duch. They have done wisely, 
 
 his puts me in mind of death : physicians thus, 
 
 ith their hands full of money, used to give o'er 
 
 heir patients. 
 
 Ant. Right the fashion of the world : 
 
 rom decayed fortunes every flatterer shrinks ; 10 
 
 en cease to build where the foundation sinks. 
 
 Duch. I had a very strange dream to-night. 
 
 Ant. What was't ? 
 
 Duch. Methought I wore my coronet of state, 
 ,1; Jpd on a sudden all the diamonds 
 
 ere changed to pearls. 
 
 Ant, My interpretation 
 
200 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act ill 
 
 Is, you'll weep shortly ; for to me the pearls 
 Do signify your tears. 
 
 Duch. The birds that live i'th* field 
 
 On the wild benefit of nature, live 
 Happier than we ; for they may choose their mates, 
 And carol their sweet pleasures to the spring. 20 
 
 Enter Bosola with a letter 
 
 Bos. You are happily o'erta'en. j 
 
 Duch. From my brother ? 
 
 Bos. Yes, from the lord Ferdinand, your brother, 
 All love and safety. 
 
 Duch. Thou dost blanch mischief, 
 
 Would'st make it white. See, see, like to calm weather 
 At sea before a tempest, false hearts speak fair 
 To those they intend most mischief. [Reads the letter. 
 Send Antonio to me; I want his head in a business. 
 A politic equivocation ! 
 
 He doth not want your counsel, but your head ; 
 That is, he cannot sleep till you be dead. 3c 
 
 And here's another pitfall that's strewed o'er 
 With roses ; mark it, 'tis a cunning one ; 
 / stand engaged for your husband, for several debts at 
 Naples: let not that trouble him; I had rather have his 
 heart than his money: 
 And I believe so too. 
 
 Bos. What do you believe ? 
 
 Duch. That he so much distrusts my husband's love. 
 He will by no means believe his heart is with him. 
 Until he see it : the devil is not cunning enough 
 To circumvent us in riddles. AfW^ 
 
 Bos. Will you reject that noble and free league 
 Of amity and love, VN^hich I present you ? 
 
 Duch. Their league is like that of some politic kings 
 Only to make themselves of strength and power 
 To be our after-ruin : tell them so. 
 
 
SCENE V] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 20I 
 
 Bos. And what from you ? 
 
 Ant. Thus tell him ; I will not come. 
 
 Bos. And what of this ? '^ 
 
 Ant. My brothers have dispersed 
 
 Bloodhounds abroad ; which till I hear are muzzled, 
 No truce, though hatched with ne'er such politic skill. 
 Is safe, that hangs upon our enemies' will. 50 
 
 I'll not come at them. 
 
 Bos. This proclaims your breeding : 
 
 Every small thing draws a base mind to fear. 
 As the adamant draws iron. Fare you well, sir : 
 You shall shortly hear from 's. [Exit, 
 
 Duch. I suspect some ambush : 
 
 Therefore by all my love I do conjure you 
 To take your eldest son, and fly towards Milan. 
 Let us not venture all this poor remainder, 
 In one unlucky bottom. 
 
 Ant. You counsel safely. 
 
 Best of my life, farewell. Since we must part, 
 Heaven hath a hand in't : but no otherwise, 60 
 
 Than as some curious artist takes in sunder 
 A clock, or watch, when it is out of frame," 
 To bring't in better order. 
 
 Duch. I know not which is best. 
 To see you dead, or part with you. Farewell, boy : 
 rhou art happy, that thou hast not understanding 
 '0 know thy misery ; for all our wit 
 ,\.nd reading brings us to a truer sense 
 
 f sorrow. In the eternal church, sir, 
 
 do hope we shall not part thus. 
 
 Ant. O, be of comfort 
 
 [flake patience a noble fortitude, 
 |'.nd think not how unkindly we are used : 
 
 [an, like to cassia, is proved best, being bruised. 
 
 Duch. Must I, like to a slave-born Russian, 
 iccount it praise to suffer tyranny ? 
 jnd yet, O Heaven, thy heavy hand is in't ! 
 
 70 
 
202 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act hi 
 
 I have seen my little boy oft scourge his top, 
 And compared myself to't : nought made me e'er 
 Go right but Heaven's scourge-stick. 
 
 Ant. Do not weep : 
 
 Heaven fashioned us of nothing ; and we strive 80 
 
 To bring ourselves to nothing. Farewell, Cariola, 
 And thy sweet armful. If I do never see thee more, 
 Be a good mother to your little ones, 
 And save them from the tiger : fare you well. 
 
 Duch. Let me look upon you once more, for that speech 
 Came from a dying father : your kiss is colder 
 Than that I have seen an holy anchorite 
 Give to a dead man's skull. 
 
 Ant. My heart is turned to a heavy lump of lead. 
 With which I sound my danger : fare you well. [Exit. 
 
 Duch. My laurel is all withered. 91 
 
 Cari. Look, madam, what a troop of armed men 
 Make toward us. 
 
 Enter Bosola and Soldiers, with vizards 
 
 Duch. O, they are very welcome ! 
 
 When fortune's wheel is overcharged with princes. 
 The weight makes it move swift : I would have my ruin 
 Be sudden. I am your adventure, am I not ? 
 
 Bos. You are : you must see your husband no more. 
 
 Duch. What devil art thou, that counterfeits Heaven's 
 thunder ? 
 
 Bos. Is that terrible? I would have you tell me 
 whether 
 Is that note worse that frights the silly birds 100 
 
 Out of the corn, or that which doth allure them 
 To the nets ? you have hearkened to the last too much. 
 
 Dtcch. O misery ! like to a rusty o'ercharged cannon, 
 Shall I never fly in pieces ? Come, to what prison ? 
 
 Bos. To none. I 
 
 Duch. Whither, then ? 
 
 ll 
 
ENEV] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 203 
 
 Bos. To your palace. 
 
 Diich. I have heard 
 
 That Charon's boat serves to convey all o'er 
 The dismal lake, but brings none back again. 
 
 Bos. Your brothers mean you safety and pity. 
 
 Duch. Pity ! 
 
 ^ith such a pity men preserve alive 
 Pheasants and quails, when they are not fat enough 1 10 
 To be eaten. 
 
 Bos. These are your children ? 
 
 Duch. Yes. 
 
 Bos. Can they prattle ? 
 
 Duch. No: 
 3ut I intend, since they were born accursed, 
 Durses shall be their first language. 
 
 Bos. Fie, madam, 
 
 ?'orget this base, low fellow. 
 
 Duch. Were I a man, 
 
 'd beat that counterfeit face " into thy other. 
 
 Bos. One of no birth. 
 
 Duch. Say that he was born mean, 
 
 ^an is most happy when's own actions 
 3e arguments and examples of his virtue. 
 
 Bos. A barren, beggarly virtue. 120 
 
 Duch. I prithee who is greatest ? can you tell ? 
 jad tales befit my woe : I'll tell you one. 
 ^ salmon, as she swam unto the sea, 
 Att with a dog-fish, who encounters her 
 Vith this rough language : Why art thou so bold 
 To mix thyself with our high state of floods, 
 3eing no eminent courtier, but one 
 That for the calmest, and fresh time o'th' year 
 3ost live in shallow rivers, rank'st thyself 
 A'ith silly smelts and shrimps ? and darest thou 130 
 
 ^ass by our dog-ship without reverence ? 
 ), quoth the salmon, sister, be at peace : 
 Thank Jupiter, we both have passed the net ! 
 
204 
 
 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act ill 
 
 Our value never can be truly known, 
 Till in the fisher's basket we be shown : 
 I' th' market then my price may be the higher, 
 Even when I am nearest to the cook and fire. 
 So to great men the moral may be stretched ; 
 Men oft are valued high, when th' are most wretched. 
 But come, whither you please. I am armed 'gainst 
 misery ; ^^o 
 
 Bent to all sways of the oppressor's will : 
 There's no deep valley but near some great hill. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
ACT THE FOURTH 
 Scene I'^ 
 Enter Ferdinand a'nd Bosola 
 
 Ferd. How doth our sister duchess bear herself 
 In her imprisonment ? 
 
 Bos. Nobly : I'll describe her. 
 
 She's sad, as one long used to't, and she seems 
 Rather to welcome the end of misery, 
 Than shun it ; a behaviour so noble, 
 As gives a majesty to adversity : 
 You may discern the shape of loveliness 
 More perfect in her tears than in her smiles : 
 She will muse for hours together ; and her silence, 
 Methinks, expresseth more than if she spake. lo 
 
 Ferd. Her melancholy seem.s to be fortified 
 With a strange disdain. 
 
 Bos. 'Tis so ; and this restraint. 
 
 Like English mastiffs that grow fierce with tying. 
 Makes her too passionately apprehend 
 Those pleasures she's kept from. 
 
 Ferd. Curse upon her ! 
 
 I will no longer study in the book 
 Of another's heart. Inform her what I told you. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Duchess and Attendants 
 
 Bos. All comfort to your grace. 
 
 Duch. I will have none. 
 
 Pray thee, why dost thou wrap thy poisoned pills 
 In gold and sugar ? 20 
 
 Bos. Your elder brother, the lord Ferdinand, 
 205 
 
206 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act r 
 
 Is come to visit you, and sends you word, 
 'Cause once he rashly made a solemn vow 
 Never to see you more, he comes i' th' night ; 
 And prays you gently neither torch nor taper 
 Shine in your chamber : he will kiss your hand, 
 And reconcile himself ; but, for his vow. 
 He dares not see you. 
 
 Duch. At his pleasure. 
 
 Take hence the lights ; he's come. 
 
 [Exeunt Attendants with lights 
 
 Enter Ferdinand 
 
 Ferd. Where are you ? 
 
 Duch. Here, sii 
 
 Ferd. This darkness suits you well. 
 
 Duch. I would ask your pardon. 3 
 
 Ferd. You have it ; 
 For I account it the honorabl'st revenge, 
 Where I may kill, to pardon. Where are your cubs ? 
 
 Duch. Whom ? 
 
 Ferd. Call them your children, 
 
 For though our national law distinguish bastards 
 From true legitimate issue, compassionate nature 
 Makes them all equal. 
 
 Duch. Do you visit me for this ? 
 
 You violate a sacrament o' th' church 
 Shall make you howl in hell for't. 
 
 Ferd. It had been well, 
 
 Could you have lived thus always ; for indeed, 
 You were too much i' th' light — but no more ; 
 I come to seal my peace with you. Here's a hand, 
 
 [Gives her a dead man^s ham 
 To which you have vowed much love; the ring upon 
 You gave. 
 
 Duch. I affectionately kiss it. 
 
 Ferd. Pray do, and bury the print of it in your hearf 
 
SCENE I] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI ^o'J 
 
 I will leave this ring with you, for a love-token ; 
 And the hand, as sure as the ring ; and do not doubt 
 But you shall have the heart too : when you need a friend, 
 Send it to him that owed it ; you shall see 
 Whether he can aid you. 
 
 Duck. You are very cold : 50 
 
 I fear you are not well after your travel. 
 Ha ! lights ! O, horrible ! 
 
 Ferd. Let her have lights enough. {Exit, 
 
 Duch. What witchcraft doth he practise, that he 
 hath left 
 A dead man's hand here ? 
 
 [Here is discovered, behi7id a traverse, the artificial 
 figures oj Antonio atid his children, appearing 
 as if they were dead. 
 
 Bos. Look you, here's the piece, from which 'twas 
 ta'en. 
 
 He doth present you this sad spectacle, 
 That, now you know directly they are dead, 
 Hereafter you may wisely cease to grieve 
 For that which cannot be recovered. 
 
 Duch. There is not between heaven and earth one wish 
 I stay for after this : it wastes me more 61 
 
 Than were't my picture, fashioned out of wax, 
 Stuck with a magical needle, and then buried 
 [n some foul dunghill ; ^ and yond's an excellent property 
 For a tyrant, which I would account mercy. 
 
 Bos. What's that ? 
 
 Duch. If they would bind me to that lifeless trunk, 
 \nd let me freeze to death. 
 
 Bos. Come, you must live. 
 
 Duch. That's the greatest torture souls feel in hell, 
 "f n hell that they must live, and cannot die. 
 1 -^ortia," I'll new kindle thy coals again, 70 
 
 Vnd revive the rare and almost dead example 
 )f a loving wife. 
 
 Bos. O fie ! despair ? remember 
 
2o8 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act r 
 
 You are a Christian. 
 
 Duch. The church enjoins fasting : 
 
 I'll starve myself to death. 
 
 Bos. Leave this vain sorrow. 
 
 Things being at the worst, begin to mend : 
 The bee when he hath shot his sting into your hand, 
 May then play with your eyelid. 
 
 Duch. Good comfortable fellow 
 
 Persuade a wretch that's broke upon the wheel 
 To have all his bones new set ; entreat him live 
 To be executed again. Who must dispatch me ? 8 
 
 I account this world a tedious theatre, 
 For I do play a part in't 'gainst my will. 
 
 Bos. Come, be of comfort ; I will save your Hfe. 
 
 Duch. Indeed I have not leisure to tend so smal 
 a business. 
 
 Bos. Now, by my life, I pity you. 
 
 Duch. Thou art a fool ther 
 
 To waste thy pity on a thing so wretched 
 As cannot pity itself. I am full of daggers. 
 Puff, let me blow these vipers from me. 
 
 Enter Servant 
 
 What are you ? 
 
 Serv. One that wishes you long life. 
 
 Duch. I would thou wert hanged for the horribl 
 curse 
 Thou hast given me. I shall shortly grow one 
 
 [Exit Servant 
 Of the miracles of pity. I'll go pray ; no, 
 I'll go curse. 
 
 Bos. O, fie ! 
 
 Duch. I could curse the stars. 
 
 Bos. O, fearful 
 
 Duch. And those three smiling seasons of the year 
 Into a Russian winter : nay, the world 
 
SCENE I] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 209 
 
 To its first chaos. 
 
 Bos. Look you, the stars shine still. 
 
 Duch. O, but you must remember, my curse hath a 
 great way to go : — 
 Plagues, that make lanes through largest famiUes, 
 Consume them ! 
 
 Bos. Fie, lady! 
 
 Duch. Let them like tyrants 
 
 Never be remembered, but for the ill they have done ; 100 
 Let all the zealous prayers of mortified 
 Churchmen forget them ! 
 
 Bos. O, uncharitable ! 
 
 Duch. Let Heaven, a little while, cease crowning 
 martyrs. 
 To punish them ! 
 
 Go, howl them this, and say, I long to bleed : 
 It is some mercy when men kill with speed. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Ferdinand 
 
 Ferd. Excellent, as I would wish ; she's plagued in art : 
 These presentations are but framed in wax, 
 By the curious master in that quality, 
 l^incentio Lauriola, and she takes them no 
 
 or true substantial bodies. 
 
 Bos. Why do you do this ? 
 
 Ferd. To bring her to despair. 
 
 Bos. 'Faith, end here, 
 
 ^d go no farther in your cruelty ; 
 lend her a penitential garment to put on 
 fet to her delicate skin, and furnish her 
 Vith beads, and prayer-books. 
 
 Ferd. Damn her ! that body of hers, 
 
 Vhile that my blood ran pure in't, was more worth 
 lian that which thou wouldst comfort, called a soul. 
 
 will send her masks of common courtesans, 
 
 [ave her meat served up by bawds and rufl&ans, 120 
 
210 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act nj 
 
 And, 'cause she'll needs be mad, I am resolved 
 
 To remove forth the common hospital 
 
 All the mad-folk, and place them near her lodging ; 
 
 There let them practise together, sing and dance, 
 
 And act their gambols to the full o' th' moon : 
 
 If she can sleep the better for it, let her. 
 
 Your work is almost ended. 
 
 Bos. Must I see her again ? 
 
 Ferd. Yes. 
 
 Bos. Never. 
 
 Ferd. You must. 
 
 Bos. Never in mine own shape 
 
 That's forfeited by my intelligence," 
 And this last cruel lie : when you send me next, i3« 
 
 The business shall be comfort. 
 
 Ferd. Very likely ; 
 
 Thy pity is nothing of kin to thee. Antonio 
 Lurks about Milan : thou shalt shortly thither, 
 To feed a fire as great as my revenge ; 
 Which never will slack till it have spent his fuel : 
 Intemperate agues make physicians cruel. [Exeunt:' 
 
 Scene 11° 
 
 Enter Duchess and Cariola 
 
 Duch. What hideous noise was that ? 
 
 Cart. 'Tis the wild consort 
 
 Of madmen, lady, which your tyrant brother 
 Hath placed about your lodging : this tyranny, 
 I think, was never practised till this hour. 
 
 Duch. Indeed, I thank him: nothing but noise anO 
 folly 
 Can keep me in my right wits ; whereas reason 
 And silence make me stark mad. Sit down ; 
 Discourse to me some dismal tragedy. ^ 
 
SCENE II] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 211 
 
 Can. O, 'twill increase your melancholy. 
 
 Duch. Thou art deceived : 
 
 To hear of greater grief would lessen mine. lo 
 
 This is a prison. 
 
 Cart. Yes, but you shall live 
 
 To shake this durance off. 
 
 Duch. Thou art a fool : 
 
 The robin redbreast and the nightingale 
 Never Uve long in cages. 
 
 Cari. Pray, dry your eyes : 
 
 What think you of, madam ? 
 
 Duch. Of nothing ; 
 
 When I muse thus, I sleep. 
 
 Cari. Like a madman, with your eyes open ? 
 
 Duch. Dost thou think we shall know one another 
 In th' other world ? 
 
 Cari. Yes, out of question. 
 
 Duch. O, that it were possible we might 20 
 
 But hold some two days' conference with the dead ! 
 From them I should learn somewhat, I am sure, 
 
 never shall know here. I'll tell thee a miracle ; 
 
 am not mad yet, to my cause of sorrow : ^ 
 Th' Heaven o'er my head seems made of molten brass, 
 The earth of flaming sulphur, yet I am not mad. 
 
 am acquainted with sad misery. 
 As the tanned galley-slave is with his oar ; 
 Necessity makes me suffer constantly, 
 And custom makes it easy. Who do I look like 
 now ? 30 
 
 Cari. Like to your picture in the gallery, 
 A. deal of life in show, but none in practice ; 
 Dr rather like some reverend monument 
 iVhose ruins are even pitied. 
 
 Duch. Very proper ; 
 
 Vnd fortune seems only to have her eyesight, 
 
 o behold my tragedy. How now ! 
 Vhat noise is that ? 1 
 
212 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act ivj 
 
 Enter Servant 
 
 Serv. I am come to tell you, 
 
 Your brother hath intended you some sport. 
 A great physician, when the Pope was sick 
 Of a deep melancholy, presented him 4° 
 
 With several sorts of madmen, which wild object 
 Being full of change and sport, forced him to laugh, 
 And so th' impostume broke : the selfsame cure 
 The duke intends on you. 
 
 Duch. Let them come in. 
 
 Enter Madmen 
 
 Serv. There's a mad lawyer ; and a secular priest ; 
 A doctor, that hath forfeited his wits 
 By jealousy ; an astrologian. 
 That in his works said, such a day o' th' month 
 Should be the day of doom, and failing aft. 
 Ran mad ; an English tailor, crazed i' th' brain 5° 
 
 With the study of new fashions ; a gentleman usher, 
 Quite beside himself with care to keep in mind 
 The number of his lady's salutations. 
 Or "how do you," she employed him in each morning; 
 A farmer too, an excellent knave in grain," 
 Mad 'cause he was hindered transportation ; " 
 And let one broker that's mad loose to these. 
 You'd think the devil were among them. 
 
 Duch. Sit, Cariola. Let them loose when you please, 
 For I am chained to endure all your tyranny. 6o 
 
 Here by a madman this Song is sung, to a dismal kind 
 of music 
 
 O, let us howl some heavy note, 
 
 Some deadly dogged howl, 
 Sounding, as from the threatening throat 
 
 Of beasts and fatal fowl ! 
 
SCENE II] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 21 3 
 
 As ravens, screech-owls, bulls, and bears, 
 
 We'll bell, and bawl our parts, 
 Till irksome noise have cloyed your ears, 
 
 And corrasived your hearts. 
 At last, whenas our quire wants breath. 
 
 Our bodies being blest, 70 
 
 We'll sing, like swans, to welcome death, 
 
 And die in love and rest. 
 
 First Madman. Doomsday not come yet ! I'll draw 
 it nearer by a perspective, or make a glass that shall set 
 all the world on fire upon an instant. I cannot sleep; 
 my pillow is stuffed with a litter of porcupines. 
 
 Secoftd Madman. Hell is a mere glass-house, where 
 the devils are continually blowing up women's souls on 
 hollow irons, and the fire never goes out. 79 
 
 Third Madman. I will lie with every woman in my par- 
 ish the tenth night ; I will tithe them over Hke haycocks. 
 
 Fourth Madman. Shall my 'pothecary outgo me, be- 
 cause I am a cuckold? I have found out his roguery; 
 he makes alum of his wife's urine, and sells it to Puri- 
 tans that have sore throats with overstraining.^ 
 
 First Madman. I have skill in heraldry. 
 
 Second Madman. Hast ? 
 
 First Madman. You do give for your crest a wood- 
 cock's head, with the brains picked out on't ; you are a 
 very ancient gentleman. ° 90 
 
 Third Madman. Greek is turned Turk : we are only 
 to be saved by the Helvetian translation. ° 
 
 First Madman. Come on, sir, I will lay the law to you. 
 
 Second Madman. O, rather lay a corrasive; the law 
 will eat to the bone. 
 
 Third Madman. He that drinks but to satisfy nature, 
 is damned. 
 
 Fourth Madman. If I had my glass here, I would 
 ^how a sight should make all the women here call me 
 mad doctor. 100 
 
214 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act i 
 
 i 
 
 First Madman. What's he, a rope-maker ? ■ 
 
 Second Madman. No, no, no, a snuflfiing knave, thai 
 while he shows the tombs, will have his hand in a wench'; 
 placket. 
 
 Third Madman. Woe to the caroche, that broughi 
 home my wife from the mask at three o'clock in th( 
 morning ! it had a large featherbed in it. 
 
 Fourth Madman. I have pared the devil's nails fort} 
 times, roasted them in raven's eggs, and cured ague^ 
 with them. ik 
 
 Third Madman. Get me three hundred milch bats 
 to make possets to procure sleep. 
 
 Fourth Madman. All the college may throw theii 
 caps at me; I have made a soapboiler costive: it was 
 my masterpiece. 
 
 [Here the dance, consisting of eight madmen, with 
 music answerable thereunto; after which, Bosola. 
 like an old man, enters. 
 
 Duch. Is he mad too ? 
 
 Serv. Pray question him. I'll leave you, 
 
 [Exeunt all but the Duchess ajid Bosola, 
 
 Bos. I am come to make thy tomb. 
 
 Duch. Ha ! my tomb ! 
 
 Thou speak'st as if I lay upon my death-bed, 
 Gasping for breath : dost thou perceive me sick ? 
 
 Bos. Yes, and the more dangerously, since thy sickness 
 is insensible. 12c 
 
 Duch. Thou art not mad, sure : dost know me ? 
 
 Bos. Yes. 
 
 Duch. Who am I ?' 
 
 Bos. Thou art a box of worm-seed, at best but a sal- 
 vatory of green mummy. What's this flesh? a little 
 crudded milk fantastical puff-paste. Our bodies are 
 weaker than those paper-prisons boys use to keep flies in; 
 more contemptible, since ours is to preserve earthworms. 
 Didst thou ever see a lark in a cage ? Such is the soul in 
 the body : this world is like her little turf of grass, and 
 
SCENE II] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 21 5 
 
 the Heaven o'er our heads, Uke her looking-glass, only 
 gives us a miserable knowledge of the small compass of 
 our prison. . 131 
 
 Dtich. Am not I thy duchess ? 
 
 Bos. Thou art some great woman, sure, for riot begins 
 to sit on thy forehead (clad in grey hairs) twenty years 
 sooner than on a merry milkmaid's. Thou sleepest 
 worse than if a mouse should be forced to take up her 
 lodging in a cat's ear : a little infant that breeds its 
 teeth, should it lie with thee, would cry out, as if thou 
 wert the more unquiet bedfellow. 
 
 Duch. I am Duchess of Malfi still. 140 
 
 Bos. That makes thy sleep so broken : 
 Glories, like glowworms, afar off shine bright, 
 But looked to near, have neither heat nor light. 
 
 Duch. Thou art very plain. 
 
 Bos. My trade is to flatter the dead, not the living; 
 ■J am a tomb-maker. 
 
 Duch. And thou com'st to make my tomb ? 
 
 Bos. Yes. 
 
 Duch. Let me be a little merry : 
 Of what stuff wilt thou make it ? 150 
 
 Bos. Nay, resolve me first, of what fashion ? 
 
 Duch. Why, do we grow fantastical in our death-bed ? 
 Do we affect fashion in the grave ? 
 
 Bos. Most ambitiously. Princes' images on their 
 tombs 
 
 Do not lie, as they were wont, seeming to pray 
 Up to Heaven ; but with their hands under their cheeks, 
 As if they died of the toothache : they are not carved 
 With their eyes fixed upon the stars ; but as 
 Their minds were wholly bent upon the world, 
 -The selfsame way they seem to turn their faces. 160 
 
 Duch. Let me know fully, therefore, the effect 
 3f this thy dismal preparation, 
 rhis talk, fit for a charnel. 
 
 Bos. Now I shall : 
 
2l6 THE DUCHESS OF MALP^I [act iv 
 
 Enter Executioners with a coffin, cords, and hell. ' 
 
 Here is a present from your princely brothers, 
 
 And may it arrive welcome, for it brings 
 Last benefit, last sorrow. 
 
 Duch. Let me see it : I 
 
 I have so much obedience in my blood, 
 I wish it in their veins to do them good. 
 
 Bos. This is your last presence-chamber. 
 
 Cari. O my sweet lady ! 
 
 Duch. Peace ; it affrights not me. 
 
 Bos. I am the common bellman, 171 
 
 That usually is sent to condemned persons 
 The night before they suffer. 
 
 Duch. Even now 
 
 Thou said'st thou wast a tomb-maker. 
 
 Bos. 'Twas to bring you 
 
 By degrees to mortification. Listen : [Dirge. 
 
 Hark, now everything is still. 
 
 The screech-owl, and the whistler shrill, 
 
 Call upon our dame aloud. 
 
 And bid her quickly don her shroud ! 
 
 Much you had of land and rent ; 180 
 
 Your length in clay's now competent : 
 
 A long war disturbed your mind ; 
 
 Here your perfect peace is signed. 
 
 Of what is't fools make such vain keeping ? 
 
 Sin their conception, their birth, weeping ; 
 
 Their life, a general mist of error. 
 
 Their death, a hideous storm of terror. 
 
 Strew your hair with powders sweet, 
 
 Don clean linen, bathe your feet, 
 
 And (the foul fiend more to check) 19° 
 
 A crucifix let bless your neck : 
 
 'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day ; 
 
 End your groan, and come away. 
 
SCENE II] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 217 
 
 Cart. Hence, villains, tyrants, murderers ! alas ! 
 What will you do with my lady ? — Call for help. 
 
 Duch. To whom, to our next neighbours? they are 
 mad-folks. 
 
 Bos. Remove that noise. 
 
 Duch. Farewell, Cariola. 
 
 In my last will, I have not much to give : 
 A many hungry guests have fed upon me ; 
 Thine will be a poor reversion. 
 
 Cari. I will die with her. 200 
 
 Duch. I pray thee, look thou giv'st my little boy 
 Some syrup for his cold, and let the girl 
 Say her prayers ere she sleep. — Now what you please : 
 
 [Cariola is forced out. 
 What death? 
 
 Bos. Strangling ; here are your executioners. 
 
 Duch. I forgive them : 
 The apoplexy, catarrh, or cough o' th' lungs, 
 Would do as much as they do. 
 
 Bos. Doth not death fright you ? 
 
 Duch. Who would be afraid on't, 
 
 Knowing to meet such excellent company 210 
 
 In th' other world ? 
 
 Bos. Yet, methinks. 
 
 The manner of your death should much afflict you ; 
 This cord should terrify you. 
 
 Duch. Not a whit : 
 
 What would it pleasure me to have my throat cut 
 With diamonds ? or to be smothered 
 With cassia ? or to be shot to death with pearls ? 
 I know death hath ten thousand several doors 
 For men to take their exits ; and 'tis found 
 They go on such strange geometrical hinges," 
 You may open them both ways: any way, for Heaven 
 sake, 220 
 
 So I were out of your whispering. Tell my brothers. 
 That I perceive death, now I am well awake, 
 
2l8 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 
 
 [act tM 
 
 Best gift is they can give, or I can take. 
 I would fain put off my last woman's fault, 
 I'd not be tedious to you. 
 
 Execut. We are ready. 
 
 Duch. Dispose my breath how please you, but m} 
 body 
 Bestow upon my women, will you ? 
 
 Execut. Yes. 
 
 Duch. Pull, and pull strongly, for your able strength, 
 Must pull down Heaven upon me : 
 
 Yet stay, heaven-gates are not so highly arched 23c 
 
 As princes' palaces ; they that enter there 
 Must go upon their knees. Come, violent death, 
 Serve for mandragora, to make me sleep ! 
 Go, tell my brothers, when I am laid out, 
 They then may feed in quiet. [They strangle h 
 
 Bos. Where's the waiting- woman ? 
 Fetch her : some other strangle the children. 
 
 Enter Cariola 
 
 Look you, there sleeps your mistress. 
 
 Cari. O, you are damnec 
 
 Perpetually for this ! My turn is next ; 
 Is't not so ordered ? 
 
 Bos. Yes, and I am glad 24( 
 
 You are so well prepared for't. 
 
 Cari. You are deceived, sir 
 
 I am not prepared for't ; I will not die : 
 I will first come to my answer, and know 
 How I have offended. {^^ 
 
 Bos. Come, dispatch her. >* 
 
 You kept her counsel, now you shall keep ours. 
 
 Cari. I will not die, I must not ; I am contracted 
 To a young gentleman. 
 
 Execut. Here's your wedding-ring. 
 
 Cari. Let me but speak with the duke; I'll discover: 
 
SCENE II] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 219 
 
 Treason to his person. 
 
 Bos. Delays : — throttle her. 
 
 Execut. She bites and scratches. 
 
 Cari. If you kill me now, 
 
 I am damned ; I have not been at confession 251 
 
 This two years. 
 
 Bos. When ? 
 
 Cari. I am quick with child. 
 
 Bos. Why then, 
 
 Your credit's saved. — Bear her into the next room ; 
 Let this He still." [They strangle Cariola. 
 
 Enter Ferdinand 
 
 Ferd. Is she dead ? 
 
 Bos. She is what 
 
 You'd have her. But here begin your pity : 
 
 [Shows the cnildren^ strangled. 
 Alas ! how have these offended ? 
 
 Ferd. The death 
 
 Of young wolves is never to be pitied. 
 
 Bos. Fix your eye here. 
 
 Ferd. Constantly. 
 
 Bos. Do you not weep ? 
 
 Other sins only speak ; murder shrieks out : 
 The element of water moistens the earth, 260 
 
 But blood flies upwards and bedews the Heavens. 
 
 Ferd. Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle: she died 
 young. 
 
 Bos. I think not so ; her infelicity 
 Seemed to have years too many. 
 
 Ferd. She and I were twins ; 
 \nd should I die this instant, I had lived 
 3er time to a minute. 
 
 Bos. It seems she was bom first : 
 
 ifou have bloodily approved the ancient truth, 
 rhat kindred commonly do worse agree 
 
220 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act] 
 
 Than remote strangers. 
 
 Ferd. Let me see her face again. 
 
 Why didst not thou pity her ? what an excellent 
 Honest man might'st thou have been 
 If thou hadst borne her to some sanctuary ; 
 Or, bold in a good cause, opposed thyself, 
 With thy advanced sword above thy head, 
 Between her innocence and my revenge! 
 I bade thee, when I was distracted of my wits, 
 Go kill my dearest friend, and thou hast done't. 
 For let me but examine well the cause : 
 What was the meanness of her match to me ? 28 
 
 Only I must confess I had a hope. 
 Had she continued widow, to have gained 
 An infinite mass of treasure by her death ; 
 And that was the main cause, her marriage. 
 That drew a stream of gall quite through my heart. 
 For thee, as we observe in tragedies 
 That a good actor many times is cursed 
 For playing a villain's part, I hate thee for't. 
 And for my sake say thou hast done much ill, well. 
 
 Bos. Let me quicken your memory, for I perceive 
 You are falling into ingratitude ; I challenge 29 
 
 The reward due to my service. 
 
 Ferd. I'll tell thee 
 
 What I'll give thee. 
 
 Bos. Do. 
 
 Ferd. I'll give thee a pardon 
 
 For this murder. 
 
 Bos. Ha ! 
 
 Ferd. Yes, and 'tis 
 
 The largest bounty I can study to do thee. 
 By what authority didst thou execute 
 This bloody sentence ? 
 
 Bos. By yours. 
 
 Ferd. Mine ! was I her judge ? 
 Did any ceremonial form of law. 
 
SCENE II] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 221 
 
 Doom her to not being ? did a complete jury 300 
 
 Deliver her conviction up i'th' court ? 
 
 Where shalt thou find this judgement registered, 
 
 Unless in hell ? See, like a bloody fool, 
 
 Th' hast forfeited thy Hfe, and thou shalt die for't. 
 
 Bos. The ofiice of justice is perverted quite. 
 When one thief hangs another. Who shall dare 
 To reveal this ? 
 
 Ferd. O, I'll tell thee ; 
 
 The wolf shall find her grave, and scrape it up, 
 Not to devour the corpse, but to discover 
 The horrid murder. 
 
 Bos. You, not I, shall quake for't. 3^0 
 
 Ferd. Leave me. • 
 
 Bos. I will first receive my pension. 
 
 Ferd. You are a villain. 
 
 Bos. When your ingratitude 
 
 Is judge, I am so. 
 
 Ferd. O horror, 
 
 That not the fear of him, which binds the devils, 
 Can prescribe man obedience ! 
 Never look upon me more. 
 
 Bos. Why, fare thee well : 
 
 Your brother and yourself are worthy men : 
 You have a pair of hearts are hollow graves, 
 Rotten, and rotting others ; and your vengeance, 
 Like two chained bullets, still goes arm in arm. 320 
 
 iTou may be brothers ; for treason, like the plague, 
 Doth take much in a blood.'^ I stand like one 
 That long hath ta'en a sweet and golden dream : 
 am angry with myself, now that I wake. 
 
 Ferd. Get thee into some unknown part o'th' world, 
 [Tiat I may never see thee. 
 
 Bos. Let me know 
 
 therefore I should be thus neglected. Sir, 
 , served your tyranny, and rather strove, 
 *o satisfy yourself, than all the world : 
 
222 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act iv 
 
 And though I loathed the evil, yet I loved 331 
 
 You that did counsel it; and rather sought 
 To appear a true servant, than an honest man. 
 
 Ferd. I'll go hunt the badger by owl-light: 
 'Tis a deed of darkness. [Exit, 
 
 Bos. He's much distracted. Off, my painted honour 
 While with vain hopes our faculties we tire, 
 We seem to sweat in ice and freeze in fire. 
 What would I do, were this to do again ? 
 I would not change my peace of conscience 
 For all the wealth of Europe. She stirs; here's life: — 
 Return, fair soul, from darkness, and lead mine 34 
 
 Out of this sensible hell: — she's warm, she breathes: — 
 Upon thy pale lips I will melt my heart. 
 To store them with fresh colour. — Who's there! 
 Some cordial drink! Alas! I dare not call: 
 So pity would destroy pity. Her eye opes,*^ 
 And Heaven in it seems to ope, that late was shut, 
 To take me up to mercy. 
 
 Duch. Antonio ! 
 
 Bos. Yes, madam, he is living; 
 
 The dead bodies you saw, were but feigned statues; 350 
 He's reconciled to your brothers; the Pope hath wrought' 
 The atonement. 
 
 Duch. Mercy! [She dies. 
 
 Bos. O, she's gone again! there the cords of life broke. 
 O sacred innocence, that sweetly sleeps 
 On turtles' feathers, whilst a guilty conscience 
 Is a black register, wherein is writ 
 All our good deeds and bad, a perspective 
 That shows us hell! That we cannot be suffered 
 To do good when we have a mind to it! 
 This is manly sorrow; 360 
 
 These tears, I am very certain, never grew 
 In my mother's milk: my estate is sunk 
 Below the degree of fear: where were 
 These penitent fountains, while she was living ? 
 
 I 
 
kcENEli] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 223 
 
 O, they were frozen up ! Here is a sight 
 
 As direful to my soul, as is the sword 
 
 Unto a wretch hath slain his father. 
 
 Come, I'll bear thee hence, 
 
 And execute thy last will ; that's deliver 
 
 Thy body to the reverend dispose 37° 
 
 Of some good women : that, the cruel tyrant 
 
 Shall not deny me. Then I'll post to Milan, 
 
 Where somewhat I will speedily enact 
 
 Worth my dejection. [Exit. 
 
ACT THE FIFTH 
 
 Scene I ° 
 
 Enter Antonio and Delio 
 
 Ant. What think you of my hope of reconcilement 
 To the Arragonian brethren ? 
 
 Delio. I misdoubt it ; 
 
 For though they have sent their letters of safe conduct^ 
 For your repair to Milan, they appear 
 But nets to entrap you. The Marquis of Pescara, 
 Under whom you hold certain land in cheat/ 
 Much 'gainst his noble nature hath been moved 
 To seize those lands, and some of his dependents 
 Are at this instant making it their suit 
 To be invested in your revenues.^ i 
 
 I cannot think they mean well to your life, 
 That do deprive you of your means of life, 
 Your living. 
 
 Ant. You are still an heretic 
 
 To any safety I can shape myself. 
 
 Delio. Here comes the marquis : I will make myself 
 Petitioner for some part of your land, 
 To know whither it is flying. 
 
 Ant. I pray do. 
 
 Enter Pescara 
 
 Delio. Sir, I have a suit to you. 
 Pes. To me ? 
 
 Delio. An easy one 
 
 There is the citadel of St. Bennet," 
 
 224 
 
SCENE I] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 225 
 
 With some demesnes, of late in the possession 20 
 
 Of Antonio Bologna, — please you bestow them on me. 
 
 Pes. You are my friend ; but this is such a suit. 
 Nor fit for me to give, nor you to take. 
 
 Delio. No, sir ? 
 
 Pes. I will give you ample reason for't, 
 
 Soon in private : here's the Cardinal's mistress. 
 
 Enter Julia 
 
 Jidia. My lord, I am grown your poor petitioner, 
 And should be an ill beggar, had I not 
 A great man's letter here, the Cardinal's, 
 To court you in my favour. 
 ] Pes. He entreats for you 
 
 The citadel of St. Bennet, that belonged 30 
 
 To the banished Bologna. 
 
 Julia. Yes. 
 
 , Pes. I could not have thought of a friend I could 
 Rather pleasure with it : 'tis yours. 
 
 Julia. Sir, I thank you ; 
 
 ^nd he shall know how doubly I am engaged 
 Both in your gift, and speediness of giving, 
 W^hich makes your grant the greater. [Exit. 
 
 Ant. [Aside.] How they fortify 
 
 Themselves with my ruin ! 
 
 Delio. Sir, I am 
 
 Little bound to you. 
 
 Pes. Why? 
 
 Delio. Because you denied this suit to me, and gave't 
 To such a creature. 
 
 Pes. Do you know what it was ? a 
 
 [t was Antonio's land ; not forfeited 
 3y course of law, but ravished from his throat 
 3y the Cardinal's entreaty : it were not fit 
 . should bestow so main a piece of wrong 
 Jpon my friend ; 'tis a gratification, 
 
226 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act V 
 
 Only due to a strumpet, for it is injustice. 
 
 Shall I sprinkle the pure blood of innocents 
 
 To make those followers I call my friends 
 
 Look ruddier upon me ? I am glad 
 
 This land, ta'en from the owner by such wrong, 5c 
 
 Returns again unto so foul an use. 
 
 As salary for his lust. Learn, good Delio, 
 
 To ask noble things of me, and you shall find 
 
 I'll be a noble giver. 
 
 Delio. You instruct me well. 
 
 Ant. [Aside.] Why, here's a man now, would fright 
 impudence 
 From sauciest beggars. 
 
 Pes. Prince Ferdinand's come to Milan 
 
 Sick, as they give out, of an apoplexy ; 
 But some say, 'tis a frenzy : I am going 
 To visit him. [Exit. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis a noble old fellow. 
 
 Delio. What course do you mean to take, Antonio ? 6c 
 
 Ant. This night I mean to venture all my fortune, 
 Which is no more than a poor lingering life. 
 To the Cardinal's worst of malice : I have got 
 Private access to his chamber ; and intend 
 To visit him about the mid of night, 
 As once his brother did our noble duchess. 
 It may be that the sudden apprehensito 
 Of danger, for I'll go in mine own shape, 
 When he shall see it fraught with love and duty, 
 May draw the poison out of him, and work 7< 
 
 A friendly reconcilement : if it fail. 
 Yet it shall rid me of this infamous calling ; 
 For better fall once, than be ever falling. 
 
 Delio. I'll second you in all danger, and, howe'er ; 
 My life keeps rank with yours. ' 
 
 Ant. You are still my loved and best friend. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
SCENE II] THE DUCHESS OF AIALFI 22/ 
 
 Scene 11° 
 Enter Pescara and Doctor 
 
 Pes. Now, doctor, may I visit your patient ? 
 
 Doc. If't please your lordship : but he's instantly 
 To take the air here in the gallery 
 By my direction. 
 
 Pes. Pray thee, what's his disease ? 
 
 Doc. A very pestilent disease, my lord, 
 They call lycanthropia.'^ 
 
 Pes. What's that ? 
 
 [ need a dictionary to't ? 
 
 Doc. I'll tell you. 
 
 [n those that are possessed with't there o'erflows 
 Such melancholy humour, they imagine 
 Ihemselves to be transformed into wolves ; lo 
 
 Steal forth to churchyards in the dead of night, 
 A.nd dig dead bodies up : as two nights since 
 Dne met the duke 'bout midnight in a lane 
 Behind St. Mark's Church, with the leg of a man 
 Upon his shoulder, and he howled fearfully ; 
 Said he was a wolf, only the difference 
 Was, a wolf's skin was hairy on the outside. 
 His on the inside ; bade them take their swords, 
 R.ip up his flesh, and try : straight I was sent for, 
 \nd having ministered unto him, found his grace 20 
 
 i^ery well recovered. 
 
 Pes. I am glad on't. 
 
 Doc. Yet not without some fear 
 
 Df a relapse. If he grow to his fit again, 
 '11 go a nearer way to work with him 
 Than ever Paracelsus dreamed of ; if 
 They'll give me leave, I'll buffet his madness out of 
 
 him. 
 )tand aside ; he comes. 
 
228 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act ^ 
 
 Enter Ferdinand, Malateste, Cardinal, 
 and BosOLA 
 
 Ferd. Leave me. 
 
 Mai. Why doth your lordship love this solitariness ? 
 
 Ferd. Eagles commonly fly alone: they are crows 
 daws, and starlings that flock together. Look, what': 
 that foUows me ? 3: 
 
 Mai. Nothing, my lord. 
 
 Ferd. Yes. 
 
 Mai. 'Tis your shadow. 
 
 Ferd. Stay it ; let it not haunt me. 
 
 Mai. Impossible, if you move, and the sun shine. 
 
 Ferd. I will throttle it. 
 
 [Throws himself on the ground 
 
 Mai. O my lord, you are angry with nothing. 
 
 Ferd. You are a fool : how is't possible I should catch 
 my shadow, unless I fall upon't ? When I go to hell, ] 
 mean to carry a bribe ; for, look you, good gifts evermore 
 make way for the v/orst persons. 4:- 
 
 Pes. Rise, good my lord. 
 
 Ferd. I am studying the art of patience. 
 
 Pes. 'Tis a noble virtue. 
 
 Ferd. To drive six snails before me from this town to 
 Moscow ; ° neither use goad nor whip to them, but let 
 them take their own time ; — (the patient'st man i'th' 
 world match me for an experiment) — and I'll crawl af tei 
 like a sheep-biter. $1 
 
 Card. Force him up. 
 
 Ferd. Use me well, you were best. 
 What I have done, I have done: I'll confess noth- 
 ing. 
 
 Doc. Now let me come to him. — Are you mad, my 
 lord? 
 Are you out of your princely wits ? 
 
 Ferd. What's he ? 
 
 Pes, Your doct( 
 
SCENE II] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 229 
 
 Ferd. Let me have his beard sawed off, and his eye- 
 brows 
 Filed more civil. 
 
 Doc. I must do mad tricks with him, 
 
 For that's the only way on't. — I have brought 
 Your grace a salamander's skin, to keep you 60 
 
 From sun-burning. 
 
 Ferd. I have cruel sore eyes. 
 
 Doc. The white of a cockatrix's egg° is present 
 remedy. 
 
 Ferd. Let it be a new-laid one, you were best. 
 Hide me from him : physicians are like kings. 
 They brook no contradiction. 
 
 Doc. Now he begins 
 
 To fear me, now let me alone with him. 
 
 Card. How now ? put off your gown ! 
 
 Doc. Let me have some forty urinals filled with rose- 
 water : he and I'll go pelt one another with them. — Now 
 he begins to fear me. — Can you fetch a frisk,"^ sir ? Let 
 him go, let him go upon my peril : I find by his eye he 
 stands in awe of me; I'll make him as tame as a 
 dormouse. 73 
 
 Ferd. Can you fetch your frisks, sir ! I will stamp him 
 mto a culHs, flay off his skin, to cover one of the anatomies 
 this rogue hath set i'th' cold yonder in Barber-Chirurgeon's 
 [iall.° Hence, hence ! you are all of you like beasts for 
 jacrifice : here's nothing left of you, but tongue and belly, 
 lattery and lechery. [Exit. 
 
 Pes. Doctor, he did not fear you throughly. 80 
 
 Doc. True ; I was somewhat too forward. 
 
 Bos. Mercy upon me, what a fatal judgement 
 Hath fall'n upon this Ferdinand ! 
 
 Pes. Knows your grace 
 IVhat accident hath brought unto the prince 
 rhis strange distraction ? 
 
 Card. [Aside.] I must feign somewhat : — Thus they 
 say it grew. 
 
230 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act v 
 
 You have heard it rumoured for these many years, 
 
 None of our family dies but there is seen 
 
 The shape of an old woman, which is given 9c 
 
 By tradition to us to have been murdered 
 
 By her nephews, for her riches. Such a figure 
 
 One night, as the prince sat up late at's book. 
 
 Appeared to him : when, crying out for help, 
 
 The gentleman of's chamber, found his grace 
 
 All on a cold sweat, altered much in face 
 
 And language : since which apparition, 
 
 He hath grown worse and worse, and I much fear 
 
 He cannot live. 
 
 Bos. Sir, I would speak with you. 
 
 Pes. We'll leave your grace. 
 Wishing to the sick prince, our noble lord. 
 All health of mind and body. 
 
 Card. You are most welcome. 
 
 [Exeunt all hut Cardinal and Bosola. 
 Are you come? so — [Aside.] This fellow must not 
 
 know 
 By any means I had intelligence 
 In our duchess' death ; for though I counselled it, 
 The full of all th' engagement seemed to grow 
 From Ferdinand. — Now, sir, how fares our sister ? 
 I do not think but sorrow makes her look 
 Like to an oft-dyed garment : she shall now 
 Taste comfort from me. Why do you look so wildly ? 
 O, the fortune of your master here, the prince. 
 Dejects you ; but be you of happy comfort : 
 If you'll do one thing for me, I'll entreat, 
 Though he had a cold tombstone o'er his bones, 
 I'd make you what you would be. 
 
 Bos. Anything, 
 
 Give it me in a breath, and let me fly to't : 
 They that think long, small expedition win. 
 For musing much o'th' end, cannot begin. 
 
 ! 
 
SCENE II J THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 23 1 
 
 Enter Julia 
 
 Julia. Sir, ^vill you come in to supper ? 
 
 Card. I am busy ; leave me. 
 
 Julia. [Aside.] What an excellent shape hath that 
 fellow ! [Exit. 
 
 Card. 'Tis thus. Antonio lurks here in Milan : 121 
 Inquire him out, and kill him. While he Hves, 
 Our sister cannot marry, and I have thought 
 Of an excellent match for her. Do this, and style me 
 Thy advancement." 
 
 Bos. But by what means shall I find him out ? 
 
 Card. There is a gentleman called Deho, 
 Here in the camp, that hath been long approved 
 His loyal friend. Set eye upon that fellow ; 
 Follow him to mass : maybe Antonio, 
 Although he do account religion 130 
 
 But a school-name, for fashion of the world 
 May accompany him ; or else go inquire out 
 Delio's confessor, and see if you can bribe 
 Him to reveal it. There are a thousand ways 
 A man might find to trace him ; as to know 
 What fellows haunt the Jews, for taking up 
 Great sums of money, for sure he's in want ; 
 Or else to go to th' picture-makers, and learn 
 Who bought her picture lately : ^ some of these 
 Happily may take. 
 
 Bos. Well, I'll not freeze i'th' business : 
 
 [ would see that wretched thing, Antonio, ui 
 
 Above all sights i'th' world. 
 
 Card. Do, and be happy. [Exit. 
 
 Bos. This fellow doth breed basilisks in's eyes, 
 He's nothing else but murder ; yet he seems 
 N'ot to have notice of the duchess' death. 
 Tis his cunning : I must follow his example ; 
 rhere cannot be a surer way to trace 
 rhan that of an old fox. 
 
232 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act ^ 
 
 Enter Julia 
 
 Julia. So, sir, you are well met. 
 
 Bos. How now ? 
 
 Julia. Nay, the doors are fast enough : 15c 
 
 Now, sir, I will make you confess your treachery. 
 
 Bos. Treachery ! 
 
 Julia. Yes, confess to me 
 
 Which of my women 'twas you hired to put 
 Love-powder into my drink ? 
 
 Bos. Love-powder ! 
 
 Julia. Yes, when I was at Malfi. 
 
 Why should I fall in love with such a face else? 
 I have already suffered for thee so much pain, 
 The only remedy to do me good. 
 Is to kill my longing. 
 
 Bos. Sure your pistol holds 
 
 Nothing but perfumes, or kissing-comfits. Excellent 
 lady ! i6c 
 
 You have a pretty way on't to discover 
 Your longing. Come, come, I'll disarm you. 
 And arm you thus : yet this is wondrous strange. 
 
 Julia. Compare thy form and my eyes together. 
 You'll find my love no such great miracle. Now you'll 
 
 say 
 I am wanton : this nice modesty in ladies 
 Is but a troublesome famiUar 
 That haunts them. 
 
 Bos. Know you me, I am a blunt soldier. 
 
 Julia. The better 
 
 Sure, there wants fire, where there are no lively sparks 
 Of roughness. 
 
 Bos. And I want compliment. 
 
 Julia. Why, ignorance 171 
 
 In courtship cannot make you do amiss. 
 If you have a heart to do well. 
 
 Bos, You are very fair. 
 
SCENE II] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 233 
 
 Jtdia. Nay, if you lay beauty to my charge, 
 I must plead unguilty. 
 
 Bos. Your bright eyes 
 
 Carry a quiver of darts in them, sharper 
 Than sunbeams. 
 
 Julia. You will mar me with commendation, 
 
 Put yourself to the charge of courting me. 
 Whereas now I woo you. 
 
 Bos. [Aside.] I have it; I will work upon this 
 creature. — 180 
 
 Let us grow most amorously famihar : 
 [f the great Cardinal should see me thus, 
 liVould he not count me a villain ? 
 , Julia. No, he might count me a wanton, 
 iN'ot lay a scruple of ofTence on you ; 
 10V if I see and steal a diamond, 
 rhe fault is not i'th' stone, but in me the thief 
 Chat purloins it. I am sudden with you : 
 ^^e that are great women of pleasure, use to cut off 
 rhese uncertain wishes and unquiet longings, 193 
 
 ^nd in an instant join the sweet delight 
 ^nd the pretty excuse together. Had you been i'th' 
 
 street, 
 Jnder my chamber window, even there 
 
 should have courted you. 
 
 Bos. O, you are an excellent lady ! 
 
 Julia. Bid me do somewhat for you presently, 
 "o express I love you. 
 
 Bos. I will, and if you love me, 
 
 ail not to effect it. 
 
 Tie Cardinal is grown wondrous melancholy : 
 
 )emand the cause, let him not put you off 200 
 
 /ith feigned excuse ; discover the main ground on't. 
 
 Julia. Why would you know this ? 
 
 Bos. I have depended on him, 
 
 nd I hear that he is fall'n in some disgrace 
 
 ^ith the emperor ; if he be, like the mice 
 
234 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act 
 
 That forsake falling houses, I would shift 
 To other dependence. 
 
 Jului. You shall not need follow the wars : 
 I'll be your maintenance. 
 
 Bos. And I your loyal servant ; 
 
 But I cannot leave my calling. 
 
 Julia. Not leave an 
 
 Ungrateful general, for the love of a sweet lady ! ai' 
 
 You are like some oinnot sleep in feather beds. 
 But must have blocks for their pillows. 
 
 Bos. Will you do this 
 
 JuUa. Cunningly. 
 
 Bos. To-morrow, I'll expect th' intelligence. 
 
 JuUa. To-morrow^ ! get you mto my cabinet ; 
 You shall have it ^^•ith you. Do not delay me, 
 Xo more than I do you : I am like one 
 That is condemned ; I have my pardon promised, 
 But I would see it sealed. Go, get you in : 
 You shall see me wind my tongue about his heart, 22 
 Like a skem of silk. [Exit Bosola 
 
 Enter Cardinal and Ser\^ants 
 
 Card. WTiere are you ? 
 
 Sen\ Here. 
 
 Card. Let none upon your live 
 
 Have conference with the prince Ferdinand, 
 L'nless I know it. [-l.^/Jr.] In this distraction, 
 
 [E.xcunt Servants 
 He may reveal the murder. — 
 Yond's my lingering consumption : 
 I am weary of her, and by any means 
 Would be quit of. 
 
 Julia. How now, my lord, what ails you? 
 
 Card. Nothing. 
 
 Juli<i. O, you are much altered ! 
 
 Come, I must be your secretary," and remove «3 
 
SCENE 11] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 235 
 
 This lead from off your bosom : what's the matter ? 
 Card. I may not tell you. 
 Jtilia. Are you so far in love with sorrow, 
 Vr.u cannot part with part of it ? or think you 
 not love your grace when you are sad 
 £x well as merry ? or do you susyx^ct 
 that have Vjeen a secret to your heart 
 lese many winters, cannot be the same 
 hto your tongue ? 
 
 Card. Satisfy thy longing ; 
 
 "he only way to make thee keep my counsel 24^0 
 
 I, not to tell thee. 
 
 ! Julm. Tell your echo this, 
 
 ^ batterers, that like echoes still report 
 >. t they hear though most imperfect, and not me; 
 Ifcr, if that you be true unto yourself, 
 nl know. 
 Card. Will you rack me ? ° 
 Julia. Xo, judgement shall 
 
 Draw it from you : it is an equal fault, 
 ;'o tell one's secrets unto all or none. 
 Card. The first argues folly. 
 Julia. But the last tyranny. 
 
 Card. Wtry well ; why, imagine I have committed 250 
 k)me secret deed, which I desire the world 
 vlay never hear of. 
 Julia. Therefore may not I know it ? 
 
 ou have concealed for me as great a sin 
 ^ adultery. Sir, never was occasion 
 'or perfect trial of my constancy 
 ill now : sir, I beseech you — 
 Card. Youll repent it. 
 
 Julia. Xe\'er. 
 
 Card. It hurries thee to ruin : 111 not tell thee. 
 Be well ad\'ised, and think what danger 'tis 
 1*0 receive a prince's secrets : they that do, 260 
 
 kad need have their breasts hooped with adamant 
 
236 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [a 
 
 To contain them. I pray thee yet be satisfied ; 
 Examine thine own frailty ; 'tis more easy ' 
 To tie knots, than unloose them : 'tis a secret 
 That, hke a lingering poison, may chance lie 
 Spread in thy veins, and kill thee seven year hence. 
 
 Julia. Now you dally with me. 
 
 Card. No more, thou shalt know it 
 
 By my appointment, the great Duchess of Malfi, 
 And two of her young children, four nights since, 
 Were strangled. 
 
 Julia. O Heaven ! sir, what have you done 
 
 Card. How now ! how settles this ? think you youi 
 
 bosom 27] 
 
 Will be a grave dark and obscure enough 
 
 For such a secret ? 
 
 Julia. You have undone yourself, sir. 
 
 Card. Why? 
 
 Julia. It lies not in me to conceal it. 
 
 Card. No! 
 
 Come, I will swear you to't upon this book. 
 
 Julia. Most religiously. 
 
 Card. Kiss it. 
 
 Now you shall never utter it ; thy curiosity 
 Hath undone thee : thou'rt poisoned with that book ; 
 Because I knew thou couldst not keep my counsel, 
 I have bound thee to't by death. 28c 
 
 Enter Bosola 
 
 Bos. For pity sake, hold ! 
 
 Card. Ha, Bosola ! 
 
 Julia. I forgive yov 
 
 This equal piece of justice you have done ; 
 For I betrayed your counsel to that fellow : 
 He overheard it ; that was the cause I said 
 It lay not in me to conceal it. 
 
 Bos. O foolish .woman, 
 
SCENE II] * THE DUCHESS OF MALFI , 237 
 
 Couldst not thou have poisoned him ? 
 
 Julia. 'Tis weakness, 
 
 Too much to think what should have been done. I go, 
 I know not whither. [Dies. 
 
 j Card. Wherefore com'st thou hither? 
 
 \ Bos. That I might find a great man, Hke your- 
 self, 290 
 Not out of his wits, as the lord Ferdinandf 
 To remember my service. 
 
 j Card. I'll have thee hewed in pieces. 
 
 " Bos. Make not yourself such a promise of that life. 
 Which is not yours to dispose of. 
 
 Card. Who placed thee here ? 
 
 Bos. Her lust, as she intended. 
 
 Card. Very well : 
 
 Now you know me for your fellow-murderer. 
 
 Bos. And w^herefore should you lay fair marble colours 
 Upon your rotten purposes to me ? ° 
 Unless you imitate some that do plot great treasons, 
 And when they have done, go hide themselves i'th' 
 graves 300 
 
 Df those were actors in't ? 
 
 Card. No more ; 
 
 There is a fortune attends thee. 
 
 Bos. Shall I go sue to fortune any longer ? 
 Tis the fool's pilgrimage. 
 
 Card. I have honours in store for thee. 
 
 Bos. There are a many ways that conduct to seem- 
 ing 
 honour, and some of them very dirty ones. 
 
 Card. Throw to the devil 
 Thy melancholy. The fire burns well ; 
 iVhat need we keep a stirring oft, and make 310 
 
 V greater smother ? thou wilt kill Antonio ? 
 
 Bos. Yes. 
 
 Card. Take up that body. 
 
 Bos. I think I shall 
 
238 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI * [act 
 
 Shortly grow the common bier for churchyards. 
 
 Card. I will allow thee some dozen of attendants, 
 To aid thee in the murder. 
 
 Bos. O, by no means. Physicians that apply horse 
 leeches to any rank swelling, use to cut off their tails 
 that the blood may run through them the faster. Le 
 me have no train when I go to shed blood, lest it mak 
 me have a greater when I ride to the gallows. 32 
 
 Card. Come to me after midnight, to help to remove 
 that body 
 To her own lodging : I'll give out she died o'th' plague : 
 'Twill breed the less inquiry after her death. 
 
 Bos. Where's Castruccio, her husband ? 
 
 Card. He's rode to Naples, to take possession 
 Of Antonio's citadel. 
 
 Bos. Believe me, you have done a very happy turc 
 
 Card. Fail not to come : there is the master-key 
 Of our lodgings ; and by that you may conceive 
 What trust I plant in you. 
 
 Bos. You shall find me ready. [Exit Cardinal 
 
 O poor Antonio, though nothing be so needful 33| 
 
 To thy estate, as pity, yet I find 
 Nothing so dangerous ! I must look to my footing : 
 In such slippery ice-pavements, men had need 
 To be frost-nailed well, they may break their neck 
 
 else; 
 The precedent's here afore me. How this man 
 Bears up in blood ! seems fearless ! why, 'tis well : 
 Security some men call the suburbs of hell, 
 Only a dead wall between. Well, good Antonio, 
 I'll seek thee out ; and all my care shall be u 
 
 To put thee into safety from the reach 
 Of these most cruel biters, that have got 
 Some of thy blood already. It may be, 
 I'll join with thee, in a most just revenge : 
 The weakest arm is strong enough, that strikes 
 With the sword of justice. Still methinks the duchess 
 
SCENE III] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 2^9 
 
 Haunts me : there, there ! — 'tis nothing but my melan- 
 choly. 
 
 Penitence, let me truly taste thy cup. 
 That throws men down, only to raise them up ! [Exit. 
 
 Scene III° 
 Enter Antonio a7id Delio 
 
 Delio. Yond's the Cardinal's window. This fortifica- 
 tion 
 
 Grew from the ruins of an ancient abbey ; 
 And to yond' side o'th' river lies a wall, 
 Piece of a cloister, which in my opinion 
 Gives the best echo that you ever heard, 
 So hollow and so dismal, and withal 
 50 plain in the distinction of our words, 
 That many have supposed it is a spirit 
 That answers. 
 
 Ant. I do love these ancient ruins. 
 
 We never tread upon them, but we set lo 
 
 Dur foot upon some reverend history : 
 Vnd, questionless, here iii this open court, 
 ^ich now lies naked to the injuries 
 Df stormy weather, some men lie interred 
 L.oved the church so well, and gave so largely to't, 
 rhey thought it should have canopied their bones 
 rill doomsday ; but all things have their end : 
 Churches and cities, which have diseases like to men, 
 Vlust have like death that we have. 
 
 Echo {from the Duchtss' f^rave). Like death that we have. 
 
 Delio. Now the echo hath caught you. 20 
 
 Ant. It groaned, methought, and gave 
 i very deadly accent. 
 
 Echo. Deadly accent. 
 
 Delio. I told you 'twas a pretty one : you may make 
 it 
 
240 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act 
 
 A huntsman, or a falconer, a musician, 
 Or a thing of sorrow. 
 
 Echo. A thing of sorrow. 
 
 Ant. Aye, sure, that suits it best. 
 
 Echo. That suits it best. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis very like my wife's voice. 
 
 Echo. Aye, wife^s voice 
 
 Delio. Come, let us walk farther from't. 
 I would not have you go to th' Cardinal's to-night : 
 Do not. 
 
 Echo. Do not. 
 
 Delio. Wisdom doth not more moderate wasting sorro\/v 
 Than time : take time for't ; be mindful of thy safety. 
 
 Echo. Be mindful of thy safety. 
 
 Ant. Necessity compels me : 
 Make scrutiny throughout the passes 
 Of your own life, you'll find it impossible 
 To fly your fate. 
 
 Echo. fly your fate ! 
 
 Delio. Hark ! the dead stones seem to have pity on you! 
 And give you good counsel. 
 
 Ant. Echo, I will not talk with thee, 
 For thou art a dead thing. 
 
 Echo. Thou art a dead thing. 
 
 Ant. My duchess is asleep now, 
 And her Httle ones, I hope sweetly : O Heaven, 
 Shall I never see her more ? 
 
 Echo. Never see her more. 
 
 Ant. I marked not one repetition of the echo 
 But that ; and on the sudden, a clear light 
 Presented me a face folded in sorrow. 
 
 Delio. Your fancy merely. 
 
 Ant. Come, I'll be out of this ague 
 
 For to live thus, is not indeed to Hve ; 
 It is a mockery and abuse of life : 5* 
 
 I will not henceforth save myself by halves ; 
 Lose all, or nothing. 
 
SCENE IV] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 241 
 
 Delio. Your own virtue save you ! 
 
 I'll fetch your eldest son, and second you : 
 It may be that the sight of his own blood 
 Spread in so sweet a figure, may beget 
 The more compassion. However, fare you well. 
 Though in our miseries fortune have a part, 
 Yet in our noble sufferings she hath none ; 
 Contempt of pain, that we may call our own.° [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV ° 
 Enter Cardinal, Pescara, Malateste, 
 
 RODERIGO, GrISOLAN 
 
 Card. You shall not watch to-night by the sick prince ; 
 lis grace is very well recovered. 
 
 Mai. Good my lord, suffer us. 
 
 Card. O, by no means : 
 
 The noise and change of object in his eye 
 Doth more distract him : I pray, all to bed ; 
 \nd though you hear him in his violent fit, 
 Do not rise, I entreat you. 
 
 Pes. So, sir ; we shall not. 
 
 Card. Nay, I must have you promise 
 
 Jpon your honours, for I was enjoined to't 
 5y himself ; and he seemed to urge it sensibly. 10 
 
 Pes. Let our honours bind this trifle. 
 
 Card. Nor any of your followers. 
 
 Mai. Neither. 
 
 Card. It may be, to make trial of your promise, 
 Vhen he's asleep, myself will rise and feign 
 Jome of his mad tricks, and cry out for help, 
 Ijid feign myself in danger. 
 
 Mai. If your throat were cutting, 
 'd not come at you, now I have protested against it.° 
 
 Card. Why, I thank you. 
 
 Gris. 'Twas a foul storm to-night. 20 
 
242 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act 
 
 Rod. The lord Ferdinand's chamber shook like ai 
 osier. 
 
 Mai. 'Twas nothing but pure kindness in the devil, 
 To rock his own child. [Exeunt all hut the Cardinal 
 
 Card. The reason why I would not suffer these 
 About my brother, is, because at midnight 
 I may with better privacy convey 
 Julia's body to her own lodging. O my conscience ! 
 I would pray now ; but the devil takes away my heart 
 For having' any confidence in prayer. 
 About this hour I appointed Bosola 3f 
 
 To fetch the body : when he hath served my turn, 
 He dies. [Exii\ 
 
 Enter Bosola 
 
 Bos. Ha ! 'twas the Cardinal's voice ; I heard him] 
 name 
 Bosola and my death : listen, I hear one's footing. 
 
 Enter Ferdinand 
 
 Ferd. Strangling is a very quiet death. 
 
 Bos. [Aside.] Nay then, I see I must stand upon my 
 
 guard. 
 
 Ferd. What say to that ? w^hisper softly ; do you agree 
 to't ? So, it must be done i'th' dark; the Cardinal would 
 not for a thousand pounds the doctor should see it. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Bos. My death is plotted ; here's the consequence of 
 
 murder. 40 
 
 We value not desert nor Christian breath, 
 
 When we know black deeds must be cured with death. 
 
 Enter Servant and Antonio 
 
 Serv. Here stay, sir, and be confident, I pray: 
 I'll fetch you a dark lantern. [Exit, 
 
r^ SCENE IV] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 243 
 
 Ant. Could I take him at his prayers, 
 There were hope of pardon. 
 
 Bos. Fall right my sword : 
 I'll not give thee so much leisure as to pray. 
 
 [Stabs Antonio. 
 
 Ant. O, I am gone ! Thou hast ended a long suit 
 In a minute. 
 
 Bos. What art thou ? 
 
 Ant. A most wretched thing, 5° 
 
 That only have the benefit in death. 
 To appear myself. 
 
 Enter Servant with a light 
 
 Serv. Where are you, sir ? 
 
 Ant. Very near my home. — Bosola ! 
 
 Serv. O misfortune ! 
 
 Bos. Smother thy pity, thou art dead else. — Antonio ! 
 The man I would have saved 'bove mine own life ! 
 We are merely the stars' tennis-balls, struck and banded 
 Which way please them. O good Antonio, 
 I'll whisper one thing in thy dying ear, 60 
 
 Shall make thy heart break quickly ! thy fair duchess 
 And two sweet children — 
 
 Ant. Their very names 
 
 Kindle a little Hfe in me. 
 
 Bos. Are murdered. 
 
 Ant. Some men have wished to die 
 At the hearing of sad tidings ; I am glad 
 That I shall do't in sadness: ° I would not now 
 Wish my wounds balmed nor healed, for I have no use 
 To put my life to. In all our quest of greatness. 
 Like wanton boys, whose pastime is their care, 
 We follow after bubbles blown in th' air. 70 
 
 Pleasure of hfe, what is't ? only the good hours 
 Of an ague ; merely a preparative to rest, 
 To endure vexation. I do not ask 
 
244 THE DUCHESS OP^ MALFI [act v^ 
 
 The process of my death ; only commend me 
 To DeHo. 
 
 Bos. Break, heart ! 
 
 Ant. And let my son fly the courts of princes. [Dies. 
 
 Bos. Thou seem'st to have loved Antonio ? 
 
 Serv. I brought him hither, 
 To have reconciled him to the Cardinal. - 8d 
 
 Bos. I do not ask thee that : 
 Take him up, if thou tender thine own life, 
 And bear him where the lady Julia 
 Was wont to lodge. — O my fate moves swift ! 
 I have this Cardinal in the forge already. 
 Now I'll bring him to th' hammer. O direful mis- 
 prision ! 
 I will not imitate things glorious, 
 No more than base ; I'll be mine own example. — 
 On, on, and look thou represent, for silence. 
 The thing thou bear'st." [Exeunt. 90 
 
 Scene V° 
 
 Enter Cardinal, with a hook 
 
 Card. I am puzzled in a question about hell : 
 He says, in hell there's one material fire. 
 And yet it shall not burn all men alike. 
 Lay him by. How tedious is a guilty conscience ! 
 When I look into the fishponds in my garden, 
 Methinks I see a thing armed with a rake. 
 That seems to strike at me. — 
 
 Enter Bosola, and Servant hearing Antonio's hody 
 
 Now, art thou come ? 
 Thou look'st ghastly ; 
 
 There sits in thy face some great determination, 
 Mixed with some fear. 
 
SCENE V] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 245 
 
 Bos. Thus it lightens into action : 
 I am come to kill thee. 
 
 Card. Ha ! help ! our guard ! 
 
 Bos. Thou art deceived ; 
 They are out of thy howHng. 
 
 Card. Hold ; and I will faithfully divide 
 Revenues with thee. 
 
 Bos. Thy prayers and proffers 
 Are both unseasonable. 
 
 Card. Raise the watch ! we are betrayed ! 20 
 
 Bos. I have confined your flight : 
 I'll suffer your retreat to Julia's chamber, 
 But no further. 
 
 Card. Help ! we are betrayed! 
 
 Enter Malateste, Pescara, Roderigo, 
 and Grisolan, above 
 
 Mai. Listen! 
 
 Card. My dukedom for rescue ! 
 
 Rod. Fie upon his counterfeiting ! 
 
 Mai. Why, 'tis not the Cardinal. 
 
 Rod. Yes, yes, 'tis he : 
 But I'll see him hanged ere I'll go down to him. 30 
 
 Card. Here's a plot upon me ; I am assaulted ! I am 
 lost, 
 Unless some rescue ! 
 
 Gris. He doth this pretty well ; 
 
 But it will not serve to laugh me out of mine honour. 
 
 Card. The sword's at my throat ! 
 
 Rod. You would not bawl so loud then. 
 
 Mai. Come, come, let's go to bed: he told us thus 
 much aforehand. 
 
 Pes. He wished you should not come at him; but 
 believe't. 
 The accent of the voice sounds not in jest : 
 
246 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act V 
 
 I'll down to him, howsoever, and with engines 
 
 Force ope the doors. [Exit. 
 
 Rod. Let's follow him aloof, 
 
 And note how the Cardinal will laugh at him. 40 
 
 [Exeunt, above, Malateste, Roderigo, 
 and Grisolan. 
 
 Bos. There's for you first, 
 'Cause you shall not unbarricade the door 
 To let in rescue. [He kills the Servant. 
 
 Card. What cause hast thou to pursue my Hfe ? 
 
 Bos. Look there. 
 
 Card. Antonio ! 
 
 Bos. Slain by my hand unwittingly : 
 
 Pray, and be sudden : when thou killed' st thy sister, 
 Thou took'st from Justice her most equal balance, 
 And left her nought but her sword. 
 
 Card. O mercy ! 
 
 Bos. Now it seems thy greatness was only outward ; 
 For thou fall'st faster of thyself than calamity 5° 
 
 Can drive thee : I'll not waste longer time ; there! 
 
 [Stabs him. 
 
 Card. Thou hast hurt me. 
 
 Bos. Again ! 
 
 Card. Shall I die like a leveret, 
 
 Without any resistance ? Help, help, help ! 
 I am slain ! 
 
 Enter Ferdinand 
 
 Ferd. Th' alarum ! give me a fresh horse ; 
 
 Rally the vaunt-guard, or the day is lost ! 
 Yield, yield : I give you the honours of arms, 
 Shake my sword over you ; will you yield ? 
 Card. Help me, I am your brother ! 
 Ferd. The devil ! 
 
 My brother fight upon the adverse party ! 
 
 [He wounds the Cardinal, and {in the scuffle) 
 gives BosoLA his death wound. 
 
SCENE v] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 247 
 
 There flies your ransom. 60 
 
 Card. O justice ! 
 I suffer now for what hath former been : ° 
 Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin. 
 
 Ferd. Now you're brave fellows. Caesar's fortune was 
 harder than Pompey's; Caesar died in the arms of 
 prosperity, Pompey at the feet of disgrace. You both 
 died in the field. The pain's nothing : pain many times 
 is taken away with the apprehension of greater, as the 
 toothache with the sight of a barber that comes to pull 
 it out : there's philosophy for you. 70 
 
 Bos. Now my revenge is perfect. Sink, thou main 
 cause [He stabs Ferdinand. 
 
 Of my undoing. The last part of my life 
 Hath done me best service. 
 
 Ferd. Give me some wet hay, I am broken- winded. 
 I do account this world but a dog-kennel : 
 I w411 vault credit ° and affect high pleasures, 
 Beyond death. 
 
 Bos. He seems to come to himself, 
 
 Now he's so near the bottom. 
 
 Ferd. My sister, O my sister ! there's the cause on't. 
 Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, . 80 
 
 Like diamonds, we are cut with our own dust. [Dies. 
 
 Card. Thou hast thy payment too. 
 
 Bos. Yes, I hold my weary soul in my teeth ; 
 'Tis ready to part from me. I do glory 
 That thou, which stood'st Uke a huge pyramid 
 Begun upon a large and ample base, 
 Shalt end in a Httle point, a kind of nothing. 
 
 Enter Pescara and the others 
 
 Pes. How now, my lord ! 
 
 Mai. O sad disaster ! 
 
 Rod. How comes this ? 
 
 Bos. Revenge for the Duchess of Malfi, murdered 
 
248 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI [act \ 
 
 By the Arragonian brethren ; for Antonio, 9c 
 
 Slain by this hand ; for lustful Julia, 
 
 Poisoned by this man ; and lastly for myself, 
 
 That was an actor in the main of all 
 
 Much 'gainst mine own good nature, yet i'th' end 
 
 Neglected. 
 
 Pes. How now, my lord ! 
 
 Card. Look to my brother : 
 
 He gave us these large wounds, as we were struggling 
 Here i'th' rushes. ° And now, I pray, let me 
 Be laid by and never thought of. [Dies. 
 
 Pes. How fatally, it seems, he did withstand 
 His own rescue ! 
 
 Mai. Thou wretched thing of blood, loo 
 
 How came Antonio, by his death ? 
 
 Bos. In a mist : I know not how : 
 Such a mistake as I have often seen 
 In a play. O, I am gone ! 
 We are only Kke dead walls, or vaulted graves, 
 That ruined, yield no echo. Fare you well. 
 It may be pain, but no harm to me to die. 
 In so good a quarrel. O this gloomy world ! 
 In what a shadow, or deep pit of darkness. 
 Doth womanish and fearful mankind live ! no 
 
 Let worthy minds ne'er stagger in distrust 
 To suffer death or shame for what is just : 
 Mine is another voyage. [Dies. 
 
 Pes. The noble Deho, as I came to th' palace. 
 Told me of Antonio's being here, and showed me 
 A pretty gentleman, his son and heir. 
 
 Enter Delio, and Antonio's Son 
 
 Mai. O sir, you come too late ! 
 
 Delio. I heard so, and 
 
 Was armed for't, ere I came. Let us make noble use 
 Of this great ruin ; and join all our force 
 
SCENE v] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 
 
 249 
 
 To establish this young hopeful gentleman 120 
 
 In's mother's right. These wretched eminent things 
 
 Leave no more fame behind 'em, than should one 
 
 Fall in a frost,'' and leave his print in snow : 
 
 As soon as the sun shines, it ever melts. 
 
 Both form and matter. I have ever thought 
 
 Nature doth nothing so great for great men, 
 
 As when she's pleased to make them lords of truth : 
 
 Integrity of life is fame's best friend, 
 
 Which nobly, beyond death, shall crown the end. 
 
 [Exeufit. 
 
APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 
 
APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 
 
 The story of Appius and Virginia, which forms the central 
 plot of Webster's play on this subject, is a fairly well-authen- 
 ticated tale connected with the fall of the decemvirate. (See 
 Mommsen's History of Rome ^ i. 367). The story has proved 
 attractive to writers of different periods and nations. It appears 
 as the first novel of the nineteenth day in Ser Giovanni Fioren- 
 tino's Pecorofie, which dates from 1378 ; and about two hundred 
 years later in Painter''s Palace of Pleasure^ where so many of the 
 good stories of the world are to be found The first drama on 
 the story in English appeared in 1575. To this Webster is in- 
 debted to a considerable extent. The probable date of Webster's 
 play is about 1624. Since this date the material has been treated 
 dramatically a number of times, never with more melodramatic 
 power than in the Virginius of Sheridan Knowles, 1820. 
 
 253 
 
DRAMATIS PERSON M 
 
 ViRGiNius, a Roman Commander. 
 
 Appius Claudius, a Roman Plebeian, chosen one of the Decemvir: 
 
 MiNUTIUS, ) ^ 
 
 _ > Roman Senators. 
 
 Oppius, j 
 
 Marcus Claudius, Secretary to Appius. 
 
 NuMiTORius, Brother to Virginius. 
 
 IciLius, a Roman Noble, betrothed to Virginia. 
 
 Valerius, a Lieutenant. 
 
 HORATius, Friend to ViRGiNius. 
 
 Sertorius, Servant to Icilius. 
 
 CoRBULO, a Clown. 
 
 Two Cousins of Appius. 
 
 An Advocate. 
 
 A Roman Ofl&cer. 
 
 Senators, Lictors, Soldiers, Musicians, Petitioners, Servants. 
 
 Virginia, Daughter to Virginius. 
 
 Julia, ) ^ . 
 
 \ Friends to Virginia. 
 Calphurnia, j 
 
 Nurse. 
 
 Scene — Rome and the Camp before Algidum 
 
 254 
 
APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 
 
 ACT THE FIRST 
 
 Scene P 
 
 Enter Minutius, Oppius, and Lictors 
 
 Min. Is Appius sent for, that we may acquaint him 
 With the decree o' th' Senate ? 
 
 Lict. He is, my lord, 
 
 And will attend your lordships presently. 
 
 0pp. Lictor, did you tell him that our business 
 Was from the Senate ? 
 
 Lict. I did, my lord ; and here he is at hand. 
 
 Enter Appius, his two Cousins, and Marcus 
 
 Appius. My lords, your pleasure ? 
 
 Min. Appius, the Senate greet you well, 
 And by us do signify unto you, 
 That they have chosen you one of the Decemviri. 
 
 Appius. My lords, far be it from the thoughts 
 Of so poor a plebeian, as your unworthy servant 
 Appius, to soar so high : the dignity of so 
 Eminent a place would require a person 
 Of the best parts and blood in Rome. 
 My lords, he that must steer at the head 
 Of an empire, ought to be the mirror of the times, 
 For wisdom and for policy ; and therefore, 
 I would beseech the Senate to elect one 
 Worthy of the place, and not to think of 
 One so unfit as Appius. 
 
 Min. My lord, my lord, you dally with your wits : 
 255 
 
256 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act i 
 
 I have seen children oft eat sweetmeats thus, 
 As fearful to devour them.'^ 
 You are wise, and play the modest courtier right, 
 To make so many bits of your delight. 
 
 0pp. But you must know, what we have once concluded, 
 Cannot, for any private man's affection, 
 Be slighted. Take your choice, then, with best judgement, 
 Of these two proffers ; either to accept 30 
 
 The place proposed you, or be banished Rome 
 Immediately. — Lictors, make way. — We expect 
 Your speedy resolution. [Exeunt Oppius, Minutius. 
 
 First Cous. Noble cousin, 
 
 You wrong yourself extremely to refuse 
 So eminent a place. 
 
 Second Cous. It is a means 
 
 To raise your kindred. Who shall dare t' oppose 
 Himself against our family, when yonder ° 
 Shall sit your power and frown ? 
 
 Appius. Or banished Rome ! 
 
 I pray forbear a Httle. — Marcus. 
 
 Marcus. Sir. 
 
 Appius. How dost thou like my cunning? 
 
 Marcus. I protest 40 
 
 I was be-agued, fearing lest the Senate 
 Should have accepted at your feigned refusal. 
 See, how your kindred and your friends are mustered 
 To warm them at your sunshine. Were you now 
 In prison, or arraigned before the Senate 
 For some suspect of treason, all these swallows 
 Would fly your stormy winter ; not one sing ; 
 Their music is [in] the summer and the spring. 
 
 Appius. Thou observ'st shrewdly. Well, I'll fit 
 them for't.° 
 
 I must be one of the Decemviri, 5° 
 
 Or banished Rome ? banished ! laugh, iny trusty Marcus ; 
 I am enforced to my ambition. 
 I have heard of cunning footmen that have worn 
 
SCENE I] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 257 
 
 Shoes made of lead some ten days 'fore a race, 
 
 To give them nimble and more active feet : 
 
 So great men should, that aspire eminent place," 
 
 Load themselves with excuse and faint denial. 
 
 That they with more speed may perform the trial. 
 
 '' Mark his humility," says one, " how far 
 
 His dreams are from ambition :" says another, 60 
 
 He would not show his eloquence, lest that 
 Should draw him into office :" and a third 
 Is meditating on some thrifty suit 
 To beg 'fore dinner. Had I as many hands 
 As had Briareus, I'd extend them all 
 To catch this office ; 'twas my sleep's disturber, 
 My diet's ill digestion, my melancholy, 
 Past physic's cure. 
 
 Enter Oppius, Minutius, and Lictors 
 
 Marcus. The senators return. 
 
 Min. My lord, your answer ? 
 
 A p plus. To obey, my lord, and to know how to rule, 
 Do differ much; to obey, by nature comes, 71 
 
 But to command, by long experience. 
 Never were great men in so eminent place 
 Without their shadows." Envy will attend 
 On greatness till this general frame ° takes end. 
 'Twixt these extremes of state and banishment, 
 My mind hath held long conflict, and at last 
 I thus return my answer : noble friends," 
 We now must part ; necessity of state 
 Compels it so ; 80 
 
 I must inhabit now a place unknown ; 
 You see't compels me leave you. Fare you well. 
 
 First Cous. To banishment, my lord ? 
 
 Appius. I am given up 
 
 To a long travail full of fear and danger ; 
 To waste the day in sweat, and the cold night 
 
258 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act 
 
 In a most desolate contemplation ; 
 Banished from all my kindred and my friends ; 
 Yea, banished from myself ; for I accept 
 This honourable calling. 
 
 Min. Worthy Appius, 
 
 The gods conduct you hither ! ° Lictors, his robes. 9< 
 
 Second Cous. We are made for ever ; noble kinsman. 
 'Twas but to fright us. 
 
 Appius. But, my loving kinsmen, 
 
 Mistake me not ; for what I spake was true, 
 Bear witness all the gods : I told you first, 
 I was to inhabit in a place unknown : 
 'Tis very certain, for this reverend seat 
 Receives me as a pupil ; rather gives 
 Ornament to the person, than our person 
 The least of grace to it. I showed you next 
 I am to travail ; " 'tis a certain truth : loc 
 
 Look ! by how much the labour of the mind 
 Exceeds the body's, so far am I bound 
 With pain and industry, beyond the toil 
 Of those that sweat in war ; beyond the toil 
 Of any artisan : pale cheeks, and sunk eyes, 
 A head with watching dizzied, and a hair 
 Turned white in youth ; all these at a dear rate 
 We purchase speedily that tend a state. 
 I told you J must leave you ; 'tis most true : 
 Henceforth the face of a barbarian nc 
 
 And yours shall be all one ; henceforth I'll know you 
 But only by your virtue : brother or father. 
 In dishonest suit, shall be to me 
 As is the branded slave. Justice should have 
 No kindred, friends, nor foes, nor hate, nor love ; 
 As free from passion as the gods above. 
 I was your friend and kinsman, now your judge ; 
 And whilst I hold the scales, a downy feather 
 Shall as soon turn them as a mass of pearl 
 Or diamonds. 
 
SCENE II] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 259 
 
 Marcus. [Aside.] Excellent, excellent lapwing ! 120 
 There's other stuff closed in that subtle breast. 
 He sings and beats his wings far from his nest. 
 
 Appius. So, gentlemen, I take it, here takes end 
 Your business, my acquaintance : fare you well. 
 
 First Cous. Here's a quick change ! who did expect 
 this cloud ? 
 Thus men when they grow great do straight grow proud. 
 
 Appius. Now to our present business at the camp. 
 The army that doth winter 'fore Algidum, 
 Is much distressed we hear : Minutius, 
 You, with the levies and the Uttle corn 130 
 
 This present dearth will yield, are speedily 
 To hasten thither ; so to appease the mind 
 Of the intemperate soldier. 
 
 Min. I am ready ; 
 
 The levies do attend me : our lieutenant, 
 Send on our troops. 
 
 Appius. Farewell, Minutius 
 
 The gods go with you, and be still at hand 
 To add a triumph to your bold command. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene H" 
 Enter Numitorius, Icilius, and Virginia 
 
 Num. Noble Icilius, welcome ; teach yourself 
 A bolder freedom here ; for, by our love, 
 Your suit to my fair niece doth parallel 
 Her kindred's wishes. There's not in all Rome 
 A man that is by honour more approved, 
 Nor worthier, were you poor," to be beloved. 
 
 I oil. You give me, noble lord, that character 
 Which I could never yet read in myself : 
 But from your censure shall I take much care 
 To adorn it° with the faintest ornaments 10 
 
 Of unambitious virtue. Here" I hold 
 
26o APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act I 
 
 My honourable pattern ; one whose mind 
 Appears more like a ceremonious chapel ° 
 Full of sweet music, than a thronging presence." 
 I am confirmed, the court doth make some show 
 Fairer than else they would do ; but her port, 
 Being simple virtue, beautifies the court." 
 
 Virginia. It is a flattery, my lord, 
 You breathe upon me ; and it shows much like 
 The borrowed painting which some ladies use, 20 
 
 It is not to continue many days ; 
 My wedding garments will outwear this praise. 
 
 Num. Thus ladies still foretell the funeral 
 Of their lord's kindness. 
 
 Enter a Servant, whispers IciLius in the ear 
 
 But, my lord, what news ? 
 
 Icil. Virginius, my lord, your noble brother, 
 Disguised in dust and sweat, is new arrived 
 Within the city : troops of artisans 
 Follow his panting horse, and with a strange 
 Confused noise, partly with joy to see him, 
 Partly with fear for what his haste portends, 3° 
 
 They show as if a sudden mutiny 
 O'erspread the city. 
 
 Num. Cousin, take your chamber. [Exit Virginia. 
 What business from the camp ? 
 
 Icil. Sure, sir, it bears 
 
 The form of some great danger ; for his horse, 
 Bloody with spurring, shows as if he came 
 From forth a battle : never did you see 
 'Mongst quails " or cocks in fight a bloodier heel. 
 Than that your brother strikes with. In this form 
 Of o'erspent horseman," having, as it seems, 
 With the distracting of his news, forgot 40 
 
 House, friends, or change of raiment, he is gone 
 To th' Senate-house. 
 
SCENE III] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 261 
 
 Num. Now the gods bring us safety ! 
 
 The face of this is cloudy ; let us haste 
 To the Senate-house, and there inquire how near 
 The body moves of this our threatened fear. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III" 
 
 Enter Appius melancholy; after, Marcus 
 
 Marcus. My lord — 
 
 Appius. Thou troublest me. 
 
 Marcus. My hand's as ready armed to work your peace, 
 As my tongue bold to inquire your discontents. 
 Good my lord, hear me. 
 
 Appius. I am at much variance 
 
 Within myself ; there's discord in my blood ; 
 My powers are all in combat ; I have nothing 
 Left but sedition in me. 
 
 Marcus. Trust my bosom 
 
 To be the closet of your private griefs : 
 Beheve me, I am uncrannied." 
 
 Appius. May I trust thee? 10 
 
 Marcus. As the firm centre to endure the burden 
 Of your light foot : as you would trust the poles 
 To bear on them this airy canopy. 
 And not to fear their shrinking. I am strong. 
 Fixed and unshaking. 
 
 Appius. Art thou? then thine ear:° I love. 
 
 Marcus. Ha ! ha ! he ! 
 
 Appius. Can this my ponderous secrecy 
 
 Be in thine ear so light ? seems my disturbance 
 Worthy such scorn that thou derid'st my griefs ? 
 Believe me, Claudius, I am not a twig 
 That every gust can shake, but 'tis a tempest 20 
 
 That must be able to use violence 
 On my grown branches. Wherefore laugh'st thou, then ? 
 
 Marcus. Not that y' are moved; it makes me smile 
 in scorn 
 
262 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act 
 
 That wise men cannot understand themselves, 
 
 Xor know their own proved grea I noss. Ch\ udiiis huighs no; 
 
 To think you love; but that you are so hopeless 
 
 Not to [^resume to enjoy whoni you atYect. 
 
 What's she in Rome your greatness cannot awe, 
 
 Or your rich purse purchase ? Promises and threats 
 
 Are statesmen's lictors to arrest such pleasures 3< 
 
 As they would bring within their strict commands : 
 
 Why should my lord droop, or deject his eye? 
 
 Can you command Rome, and not countermand 
 
 A woman's weakness? Let your grace bestow 
 
 Your purse and power on me; I'll prostrate you." 
 
 Appius. Ask both, and lavish them to purchase me 
 The rich fee simple of Virginia's heart. 
 
 Marcus. Virginia's ! 
 
 Appius. Her's. 
 
 Mdrcus. I have already found 
 
 An easy path which you may safely tread. 
 Yet no man trace you. 
 
 Appius. Thou art my comforter. 4< 
 
 Marcus. Her father's busied in our foreign wars, 
 And there hath chief employment ; all their pay 
 Must your discretion scantle ; keep it back ; 
 Restrain it in tlie common treasury : 
 Thus may a statesman 'gainst a soldier stand. 
 To keep his purse weak, whilst you arm his hand. 
 Her father thus kept low, gifts and rewards 
 Will tempt the maid the sooner ; nay, haply draw 
 The father in to plead in your behalf. 
 But should these fail, then siege her \'irgin tower 50 
 
 With two prevailing engines, fear and power. 
 
 Appius. Go, then and prove a speeding advocate : 
 Arm thee with all our bounty, oratory, 
 Variety of promise. 
 
 Enter \'alerius 
 I'll/. Lord Appius, the Decemvirate entreat 
 
scknj: Jv] APPJL.^ :\.^ij Vlk(^IMA 263 
 
 ;ur voice in this day's Senate. Old Virginius 
 i.ves audience from the camp, with earnest suit 
 
 >r quick dispatch. 
 
 Appius. We will attend the Senate. Claudius, be- 
 gone. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV" 
 Enter Appius, Oppius, Valerius, Numitorius, etc. 
 
 0pp. We sent to you to assist us in this counsel 
 Touching the expeditions of our war. 
 
 Appius. Ours is a willing presence to the trouble 
 Of all state cares. Admit him from the camp. 
 
 Enter Virginius 
 
 0pp. Speak the camp's will. 
 
 Virginius. The camp wants money; we have store 
 of knocks, 
 
 -d wounds God's plenty, but we have no pay: 
 . lis three months did we never house our heads, 
 P/jt in yon great star-chamber I" never bedded 
 Lit in the cold field-beds; our victual fails us, 10 
 
 Vet meet with no supply; we're fairly promised, 
 But soldiers cannot feed on promises ; 
 All our provant apparel's torn to rags, 
 And our munition fails us. Will you send us 
 1 o fight for Rome Hke beggars? Xoble gentlemen, 
 ^ 'c you the high state of Decemviri, 
 
 ; at have those things in manage ? Pity us, 
 i r we have need on't. Let not your delays 
 \'>(: cold to us, whose Vjloods have oft Vjeen heated 
 To gain you fame and riches. Prove not to us 20 
 
 '^ Feeing our friends) worse foes than we fight with : 
 L :t's not be starved in kindness. Sleep you now 
 
264 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act 
 
 Upon the bench, when your deaf ears should listen 
 
 Unto the wretchless clamours of the poor ? 
 
 Then would I had my drums here, they might rattle, 
 
 And rouse you to attendance. Most grave fathers, 
 
 Show yourselves worthy stewards to our mother, 
 
 Fair Rome, to whom we are no bastard sons, 
 
 Though we be soldiers. She hath in her store 
 
 Food to maintain life in the camp, as well 30 
 
 As surfeit for the city. Do not save 
 
 The foe a labour : send us some supply. 
 
 Lest, ere they kill us, we by famine die. 
 
 Appius. Shall I, my lords, give answer to this soldier? 
 
 0pp. Be you the city's voice. 
 
 Appius. Virginius, we would have you thus possessed : 
 We sit not here to be prescribed and taught, 
 Nor to have any suitor give us limit. 
 Whose power admits no curb. Next know, Virginius, 
 The camp's our servant, and must be disposed, 40; 
 
 Controlled, and used by us, that have the strength 
 To knit it, or dissolve it. When we please, 
 Out of our princely grace and clemency. 
 To look upon your wants, it may be then 
 We shall redress them : but till then, it fits not 
 That any petty fellow waged by us * 
 
 Should have a tongue sound here, before a bench 
 Of such grave auditors. Further — 
 
 Virginius. Pray give me leave : 
 Not here ! Pray, Appius, is not this the judgement-seat ? 
 Where should a poor man's cause be heard but here ? 51 
 To you the statists of long-flourishing Rome, 
 To you I call, if you have charity. 
 If you be human, and not quite given o'er 
 To furs and metal ; "" if you be Romans, 
 If you have any soldier's blood at all 
 Flow in your veins, help with your able arms 
 To prop a sinking camp : an infinite" 
 Of fair Rome's sons, .cold, weak, hungry, and clotheless, 
 
SCENE IV] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 265 
 
 Would feed upon your surfeit : will you save them, 60 
 Or shall they perish ? 
 
 Appius. What we will, we will ; 
 
 Be that your answer : perhaps at further leisure 
 We'll help you ; not your merit, but our pleasure. 
 
 Virginius. I will not curse thee, Appius ; but I wish 
 Thou wert i' th' camp amongst the mutineers 
 To tell my answers, not to trouble me. 
 Make you us dogs, yet not allow us bones ? 
 O, what are soldiers come to ! Shall your camp, 
 The strength of all your peace, and the iron wall 
 That rings this pomp in from invasive steel, 70 
 
 Shall that decay ? Then let the foreign fires 
 Climb o'er these buildings ; let the sword and slaughter 
 Chase the gowned Senate through the streets of Rome, 
 To double-dye their robes in scarlet ° : let 
 The enemy's stripped arm have his crimsoned 
 
 brawns 
 Up to the elbows in your traitorous blood ; 
 Let Janus' temple be devolved,"^ your treasures 
 Ripped up to pay the common adversaries 
 With our due wages. Do you look for less ? 
 The rottenness of this misgoverned state 80 
 
 Must grow to some disease, incurable 
 Save with a sack or slaughter. 
 
 Appius. Y' are too bold. 
 
 Virginius. Know you our extremities ? 
 
 Appius. We do. 
 
 Virginius. And will not help them ? 
 
 Appius. Yes. 
 
 Virginius. When ? 
 
 Appius. , Hereafter. 
 
 Virginius. Jlereafter ! when so many gallant spirits 
 That yet may stand betwixt you and destruction. 
 Are sunk in death ? Hereafter ! when disorder 
 Hath swallowed all our forces ? 
 
 Appius. We'll hear no more. 
 
266 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act] 
 
 0pp. Peace, fellow, peace ! know the Decemviri, 
 And their authority ; we shall commit you else. 9 
 
 Virginius. Do so, and I shall thank you ; be relieved, 
 And have a strong house o'er me ; fear no alarms 
 Given in the night by any quick perdue.^ 
 Your guilty in the city feeds more dainty 
 Than doth your general. 'Tis a better office 
 To be an under-keeper than a captain. 
 The gods of Rome amend it ! 
 
 Appius. Break up the Senate. 
 
 Virginius. And shall I have no answer ? 
 
 Appius. So, farewell. [Exeunt all but Virginius. 
 
 Virginius. What slave would be a soldier, to be cen- 
 sured 10 1 
 By such as ne'er saw danger? to have our pay. 
 Our worths, and merits, balanced in the scale 
 Of base moth-eaten peace ? I have had wounds 
 Would have made all this bench faint and look pale. 
 But to behold them searched." They lay their heads 
 On their soft pillows, pore upon their bags," 
 Grow fat with laziness and resty ease ; 
 And us that stand betwixt them and disaster. 
 They will not spare a drachma. O ! my soldiers, no 
 Before you want, I'll sell my small possessions 
 Even to my skin to help you ; plate and jewels. 
 All shall be yours. Men that are men indeed. 
 The earth shall find," the sun and air must feed. 
 
 Enter Numitorius, Icilius, Valerius, and Virginia 
 
 Num. Your daughter, noble brother, hearing late 
 Of your arrival from the camp, most humbly 
 Prostrates her filial duty. 
 
 Virginius. Daughter, rise : 
 
 And brother, I am only rich in her. 
 
 And in your love, linked with the honoured friendship 
 Of those fair Roman lords. For you, Icilius, 120 
 
SCENE IV] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 267 
 
 I hear I must adopt you with the title 
 
 Of a new son ; you are Virginia's chief ; 
 
 And I am proud she hath built her fair election 
 
 Upon such store of virtues. May you grow, 
 
 Although a city's child, to know a soldier, 
 
 And rate him to his merit. 
 
 Icil. Noble father, 
 
 (For henceforth I shall only use that name) 
 Our meeting was to urge you to the process 
 Of our fair contract." 
 
 Virginius. Witness, gentlemen, 
 
 Here I give up a father's interest, 130 
 
 But not a father's love ; that I will ever 
 Wear next my heart, for it was born with her. 
 And grows still with my age. 
 
 Num. Icilius, 
 
 Receive her : witness, noble gentlemen. 
 
 Val. With all my heart. I would Icilius could 
 Do as much for me ; but Rome affords not such 
 Another Virginia. 
 
 Virginia, I am my father's daughter, and by him 
 I must be swayed in all things. 
 
 Num. Brother, this happy contract asks a feast, 140 
 As a thing due to such solemnities : 
 It shall be at my house, where we this night 
 Will sport away some hours. 
 
 Virginius. I must to horse. 
 
 Num. What, ride to-night ! 
 
 Virginius. Must see the camp to-night : 
 
 'Tis full of trouble and distracted fears. 
 And may grow mutinous : I am bent to ride. 
 
 Val. To-night ! 
 
 Virginius. I am engaged: short farewells now must 
 serve ; 
 
 The universal business calls me hence, 
 That touchcth a whole people. Rome, I fear. 
 Thou wilt pay use for what thou dost forbear. ° 150 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
ACT THE SECOND 
 
 Scene I° 
 
 Enter Clown, whispering Virginia ; after her 
 Marcus with presents 
 
 Virginia. Sirrah, go tell Calphurnia I am walking 
 To take the air : entreat her company ; 
 Say I attend her coming. 
 
 Clown. Madam, I shall : but if you could walk abroad 
 and get an heir,^ it were better ; for your father hath i 
 fair revenue, and never a son to inherit. 
 
 Virginia. You are, sirrah 
 
 Clown. Yes, I am sirrah; but not the party that is 
 born to do that : though I have no lordships, yet I have 
 so much manners to give my betters place. ic 
 
 Virginia. Whom mean you by your betters ? 
 
 Clown. I hope I have learnt to know the three degrees 
 of comparison : for though I be bonus, and you melior as 
 well as mulier,^ yet my lord Icilius is optimus. 
 
 Virginia. I see there's nothing in such private done, 
 but you must inquire after. 
 
 Clown. And can you blame us, madam, to long for 
 the merry day, as you do for the merry night? 
 
 Virginia. Will you be gone, sir ? 
 
 Clown. yes, to my lady Calphurnia's ; I remember| 
 my errand. [Exit. 
 
 Virginia. My father's wondrous pensive, and withal 
 With a suppressed rage left his house displeased, 23 
 And so in post is hurried to the camp : 
 It sads me much ; to expel which melancholy, 
 I have sent for company. 
 
 268 
 
SCENE I] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 269 
 
 Enter Marcus and Musicians 
 
 Marcus. This opportunity was subtly waited : 
 It is the best part of a poHtician, 
 When he would compass aught to fame his industry," 
 Wisely to wait the advantage of the hours ; 30 
 
 His happy minutes are not always present. 
 Express your greatest art '^ Virginia hears you. [Song. 
 
 Virginia. O, I conceive the occasion of this harmony : 
 IciKus sent it ; I must thank his kindness. 
 
 Marcus. Let not Virginia rate her contemplation 
 So high, to call this visit an intrusion ; 
 For when she understands I took my message 
 From one that did compose it with affection, 
 I know she will not only extend pardon. 
 But grace it with her favour. p 
 
 Virginia. You mediate excuse for courtesies,*^ 
 As if I were so barren of civility, 
 Not to esteem it worthy of my thanks ; 
 Assure yourself I could be longer patient 
 To hear my ears so feasted. 
 
 Marcus. Join all your voices till you make the air 
 Proud to usurp your notes," and to please her 
 With a sweet echo ; serve Virginia's pleasure. — [Song. 
 As you have been so full of gentleness 
 To hear with patience what was brought to serve you. 
 So hearken with your usual clemency 51 
 
 To the relation of a lover's sufferings. 
 Your figure still does revel in his dreams. 
 He banquets on your memory, yet finds 
 Not thoughts enough to satisfy his wishes ; 
 As if Virginia had composed his heart. 
 And filled it with her beauty. 
 
 Virginia. I see he is a miser in his wishes. 
 And thinks he never has enough of that 
 Which only he possesses : but, to give 60 
 
 His wishes satisfaction, let him know 
 
I 
 
 270 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act i 
 
 His heart and mine do dwell so near together, 
 That hourly they converse and guard each other. 
 
 Marcus. Is fair Virginia confident she knows 
 Her favour dwells with the same man I plead for? 
 
 Virginia. Unto Icilius. 
 
 Marcus. Worthy fair one, 
 
 I would not wrong your worth so to employ 
 My language for a man so much beneath 
 The merit of your beauty : he I plead for 
 Has power to make your beauty populous ; " 7c 
 
 Your frown shall awe the world ; and in your smile 
 Great Rome shall build her happiness ; 
 Honour and wealth shall not be styled companions, 
 But servants to your pleasure : 
 Then shall IciUus, but a refined citizen, ° 
 Boast your affection, when lord Appius loves you? 
 
 Virginia. Bless his great lordship ! I was much mis- 
 taken. 
 Let thy lord know, thou advocate of lust, \ 
 
 All the intentions of that youth are honourable, 
 Whilst his are filled with sensuaHty: 80 
 
 And for a final resolution know, 
 Our hearts in love, like twins, alike shall grow. [Exit 
 
 Marcus. Had I a wife or daughter that could please 
 
 him, 
 
 I would devote her to him ; but I must 
 
 Shadow ° this scorn, and soothe him still in lust. [ExiU 
 
 Scene H" 
 Enter Six Soldiers 
 
 First Soldier. What news yet of Virginius' return ? 
 
 Second Soldier. Not any. 
 
 First Soldier. O, the misery of soldiers ! 
 
 They doubly starve us with fair promises. 
 We spread the earth like hail, or new-reaped corn 
 
SCENE II] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 2/1 
 
 In this fierce famine ; and yet patiently 
 Make our obedience the confined jail 
 That starves us. 
 
 Third Soldier. Soldiers, let us draw our swords 
 While we have strength to use them. 
 
 First Soldier. 'Tis a motion 
 
 Which nature and necessity commands. 
 
 Enter Minutius 
 
 Min. Y'are of Virginius' regiment ? 
 
 Omnes. We are. lo 
 
 Min. Why do you swarm in troops thus? To your 
 quarter ! 
 Is our command grown idle ? To your trench ! 
 Come, I'll divide you : this your conference 
 Is not without suspect of mutiny. 
 
 First Soldier. Soldiers, shall I relate the grievances 
 (Jf the whole regiment ? 
 
 Omnes. Boldly. 
 
 First Soldier. Then thus, my lord — 
 
 Min. Come, I will not hear thee. 
 
 First Soldier. Sir, you shall. 
 
 Sound all the drums and trumpets in the camp. 
 To drown my utterance, yet above them all 
 I'll rear our just complaint. Stir not, my lord ! 20 
 
 I vow you are not safe, if you but move 
 A sinew till you hear us. 
 
 Min. ■ Well, sir, command us; 
 
 You are the general. 
 
 First Soldier. No, my lord, not I ; 
 
 I am almost starved ; I wake in the wet trench, 
 Loaded with more cold iron than a jail 
 Would give a murderer, while the general 
 Sleeps in a field-bed, and to mock our hunger 
 Feeds us with scent of the most curious fare 
 That makes his tables crack ; our pay detained 
 
2J2 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act] 
 
 By those that are our leaders ; and, at once, 3 
 
 We in this sad, and unprepared plight, 
 With the enemy and famine daily fight. 
 
 Min. Do you threaten us ? 
 
 Omnes. Sir, you shall hear him out 
 
 First Soldier. You send us whips, and iron manacles, 
 And shackles plenty, but the devil a coin. 
 Would you teach us that cannibal trick, my lord, 
 Which some rich men i' th' city oft do use ; 
 Shall's one devour another ? 
 
 Min. Will you hear me ? 
 
 First Soldier. O Rome, th' art grown a most un 
 natural mother, 
 To those have held thee by the golden locks 4 
 
 From sinking into ruin ! Romulus 
 Was fed by a she-wolf, but now our wolves 
 Instead of feeding us devour our flesh, 
 Carouse our blood," yet are not drunk with it, 
 For three parts of 't is water. 
 
 Min. Your captain 
 
 Noble Virginius, is sent to Rome 
 For ease of all your grievances. 
 
 First Soldier. 'Tis false. 
 
 Omnes. Aye, 'tis false. 
 
 First Soldier. He's stoln away from 's never to return 
 And now his age will suffer him no more 5 
 
 Deal on the enemy, belike he'll turn 
 An usurer, and in the city air 
 Cut poor men's throats at home," sitting in's chair. 
 
 Min. You wrong one of the honourablest com 
 manders. 
 
 Omnes. Honourable commander ! 
 
 First Soldier. Commander ! aye, my lord, there' goe 
 the thrift : 
 In victories, the general and commanders 
 Share all the honour, as they share the spoil ; 
 But in our overthrows, where lies the blame ? 
 
 i 
 
SCENE II] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 273 
 
 The common soldier's fault — ours is the shame. 60 
 
 What is the reason, that being so far distant 
 
 From the affrighted enemy, we lie 
 
 I' th' open field, subject to the sick humours 
 
 Of heaven and earth, unless you could bestow 
 
 Two summers '^ on us ? Shall I tell you truth ? 
 
 You account the expense of engines, and of swords, 
 
 Of horses and of armour dearer far, 
 
 Than soldiers' lives. 
 
 Omnes. Now, by the gods, you do. 
 
 First Soldier. Observe you not the ravens and the 
 crows 
 Have left the city surfeit, and with us 70 
 
 They make full banquets. Come, you birds of death, 
 And fill your greedy crops with human flesh ; 
 Then to the city fly, disgorge it there 
 Before the Senate, and from thence arise 
 A plague to choke all Rome ! 
 
 Omnes. And all the suburbs ! 
 
 Min. Upon a soldier's word, bold gentlemen, 
 I expect every hour Virginius 
 To bring fresh comfort. 
 
 Omnes. Whom ? Virginius ? 
 
 First Soldier. Now, by the gods, if ever he return. 
 We'll drag him to the slaughter by his locks, 80 
 
 Turned white with riot and incontinence. 
 And leave a precedent to all the world, 
 How captains use their soldiers ! 
 
 Enter Virginius 
 
 Min. See, he's returned. 
 
 Virginius, you are not safe ; retire, 
 Your troops are mutinous ; we are begirt 
 With enemies more daring, and more fierce. 
 Than is the common foe. 
 
 Virginius, My troops, my lord ! 
 
2/4 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act ii 
 
 Min. Your life is threatened by these desperate men ; 
 Betake you to your horse. 
 
 Virgin ins. My noble lord, 
 
 I never yet professed to teach the art 9c 
 
 Of flying. Ha ! our troops grown mutinous ! 
 He dares not look on me with half a face 
 That spread this wildtire. Where is our lieutenant ? 
 
 Enter Valerius 
 
 VaL My lord. 
 
 Virginius. Sirrah, order our companies. 
 
 Min. What do you mean, my lord ? 
 
 Virginius. Take air a Httle, they have heated me. 
 Sirrah, is't you \n\\ mutiny ? 
 
 Third Soldier. Not I, sir. 
 
 Mrginius. Is your gall burst," you traitor ? 
 
 Fourth Soldier. The gods defend, sir ! 
 
 ]^irginius. Or is your stomach sea-sick? doth it rise? 
 I'll make a passage for it. loc 
 
 Fifth Soldier. Noble captain. 111 die beneath youi 
 foot. 
 
 Virginius. You rough porcupine, ha ! 
 Do you bristle, do you shoot your quills,'^ you rogue ? 
 
 First Soldier. They have no points to hurt you. 
 noble captain. 
 
 Virginius. Was't you, my nimble shaver, that would 
 whet 
 Your sword 'gainst your commander's throat, you sirrah ? 
 
 Sixth Soldier. My lord, I never dreamed on't. 
 
 Virginius. Slaves and cowards, 
 
 What, are you choleric now ? By the gods, 
 The way to purge it were to let you blood ! 
 I am i' th' centre of you, and I'll make nc 
 
 The proudest of you teach the aspen leaf 
 To tremble, when I breathe. 
 
 Min. A strange conversion. 
 
SCENE II] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 275 
 
 Virginius. Advance your pikes ! " the word ! 
 
 Omnes, Advance your pikes ! 
 
 Virginius. See, noble lord, these are no mutineers, 
 These are obedient soldiers, civil men : 
 You shall command these, if your lordship please, 
 To fill a ditch up with their slaughtered bodies, 
 That with more ease you may assault some town. 
 So, now lay down your arms ! Villains and traitors, 
 I here cashier you : hence ! from me, my poison ! 120 
 Not worthy of our discipline : go beg. 
 Go beg, you mutinous rogues ! brag of the service 
 You ne'er durst look on : it were charity 
 To hang you, for my mind gives y'are reserved 
 To rob poor market women. 
 
 Min. O Virginius ! 
 
 Virginius. I do beseech you to confirm my sentence, 
 As you respect me. I will stand myself 
 For the whole regiment ; and safer far 
 In mine own single valour, than begirt 
 With cowards and with traitors. 130 
 
 Min. O my lord ! you are too severe. 
 
 Virginius. Now, by the gods, my lord, 
 You know no discipline, to pity them. 
 Precious devils ! no sooner my back turned, 
 But presently to mutiny. 
 
 Omnes. Dear captain! 
 
 Virginius. Refuse me ! " if such traitorous rogues 
 Would not confound an army. When do you march ? 
 When do you march, gentlemen ? 
 
 First Soldier. My lord, we'll starve first ; 
 
 We'll hang first ; by the gods, do anything. 
 Ere we'll forsake you. 
 
 Min. Good Virginius, 140 
 
 Limit your passion. 
 
 Virginius. Sir, you may take my place. 
 
 Not my just anger from me. These are they 
 Have bred a dearth i' th' camp : I'll wish our foes 
 
276 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act 1 
 
 No greater plague than to have their company. 
 Show but among them all so many scars 
 As stick upon this flesh, I'll pardon them. 
 
 Mill. How now, my lord, breathless ? 
 
 Virginins. By your favour. I ha' said — 
 
 Mischiefs confound me ! if I could not wish 
 My youth renewed again, with all her follies, 
 Only t'have breath enough to rail against iSc 
 
 These — 'tis too short. 
 
 Min. See, gentlemen, what strange distraction 
 Your falling off from duty hath begot 
 In this most noble soldier : you may live. 
 The meanest of you, to command a troop, 
 And then in others you'll correct those faults, 
 Which in yourselves you cherished : every captain 
 Bears in his private government that form. 
 Which kings should o'er their subjects, and to them 
 Should be the Hke obedient." We confess i6c 
 
 You have been distressed ; but can you justly challenge 
 Any commander that hath surfeited. 
 While that your food was limited ? You cannot. 
 
 Virginins. My lord, I have shared w^ththem an equal 
 fortune, 
 Hunger and cold, marched thorough watery fens. 
 Borne as great burdens as the pioner. 
 When scarce the ground would bear me. 
 
 Min. Good my lord, give us leave to proceed. 
 The punishment your captain hath inflicted 
 Is not suflicient ; for it cannot bring 170 
 
 Any example to succeeding times 
 Of penance worth your faulting : happily, 
 It may in you beget a certain shame ; 
 But it will in others a strong hope 
 Of the like lenity. Yet, gentlemen. 
 You have in one thing given me such a taste 
 Of your obedience : w^hen the fire w^as raised 
 Of fierce sedition, and the cheek was swollen 
 
SCENE II] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 277 
 
 To sound the fatal trumpet, then the sight 
 
 Of this your worthy captain did disperse x8o 
 
 All those unfruitful humours, and even then 
 
 Convert you from fierce tigers to staid men : 
 
 We therefore pardon you, and do restore 
 
 Your captain to you, you unto your captain. 
 
 Omnes. The gods requite you, noble general. 
 
 Min. My lord, my lord ! 
 
 Omnes. Your pardon, noble captain. 
 
 Virginius. Well, you are the general, and the fault 
 is quit ; 
 A soldier's tears, an elder brother's wit. 
 Have little salt in them, nor do they season 
 Things worth observing, for their want of reason. 190 
 
 Take up your arms and use them, do, I pray ; 
 Ere long, you'll take your legs to run away. 
 
 Min. And what supply from Rome ? 
 
 Virginius. Good store of corn. 
 
 Min. What entertainment there ? 
 
 Virginius. Most honourable, 
 
 Especially by the lord Appius. 
 There is great hope that Appius will grow 
 The soldier's patron : with w^hat vehemency 
 He urged our wants, and with what expedition 
 He hasted the supplies, it is almost 
 Incredible. There's promised to the soldier, 200 
 
 Besides their corn, a bounteous donative ; [.4 shout. 
 
 But 'tis not cetain yet when 't shall be paid. 
 
 Min. How for your own particular ? 
 
 Virginius. My lord, . 
 
 I was not entered fully two pikes' length 
 Into the Senate, but they all stood bare. 
 And each man offered me his seat. The business 
 For which I went dispatched, what gifts, what favours 
 Were done me, your good lordship shall not hear. 
 For you would wonder at them ; only this, 
 'Twould make a man fight up toth' neck in blood, ^10 
 
2/8 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act ii^ 
 
 To think how nobly he shall be received 
 When he returns to th' city. 
 
 Min. 'Tis well ; 
 
 Give order the provision be divided, 
 And sent to every quarter. 
 
 Virginius. Sir, it shall. — 
 
 [Aside] Thus men must slight their wrongs, or else 
 
 conceal them, 
 When general safety wills us not reveal them. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene III" 
 Enter Two Petitioners at one door; at the other Marcus 
 
 First Pet. Pray, is your lord at leisure ? 
 
 Marcus. What is your suit ? 
 
 First Pet. To accept this poor petition, which makes 
 known 
 My many wrongs, in which I crave his justice, 
 And upright sentence to support my cause. 
 Which else is trod down by oppression. 
 
 Marcus. My lord's hand is the prop of innocence. 
 And if your cause be worthy his supportance, 
 It cannot fall. 
 
 First Pet. The gods of Rome protect him ! 
 
 Marcus. What is your paper, too, petitionary ? 
 
 Second Pet. It leans upon the justice of the judge, 
 Your noble lord, the very stay of Rome. 
 
 Marcus. And surer basis, for a poor man's cause, 
 She cannot yield. Your papers I'll deliver. 
 And when my lord ascends the judgement-seat, 
 You shall find gracious comfort. 
 
 Enter Icilius troubled 
 
 Icil. Where's your lord ? 
 
 Marcus. [Aside] Icilius! fair Virginia's late betrothed. 
 
SCENE III] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 279 
 
 Icil. Your ears, I hope, you have not forfeited, 
 That you return no answer : where's your lord ? 
 
 Marcus. At 's study. 
 
 Icil. I desire admittance to him. 
 
 Marcus. Please you attend, I'll know his lordship's 
 pleasure. — 20 
 
 [Aside.] Icilius ! I pray Heaven she have not blabbed. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Icil. Attend! A petty lawyer t'other day, 
 Glad of a fee, but called to eminent place, 
 Even to his betters now the word 's attend. 
 This gowned office, what a breadth it bears ! 
 How many tempests wait upon his frown ! 
 
 Enter Marcus 
 
 Marcus. All the petitioners withdraw. 
 
 [Exeunt Petitioners. 
 Lord Appius 
 Must have this place more private, as a favour 
 Reserved for you, Icilius. Here's my lord. 
 
 Enter Appius with Lictors afore him 
 
 Appius. Begone ; this place is only spared for us ; 30 
 And you, Icilius : now your business. 
 
 Icil. May I speak it freely ? 
 
 Appius. We have suffering ears, 
 
 A heart the softest down may penetrate : 
 Proceed. 
 
 Icil. My lord — 
 
 Appius. We are private ; pray your courtesy. 
 
 Icil. My duty — 
 
 Appius. Leave that to th' public eye 
 
 Of Rome, and of Rome's people. Claudius, there ! 
 
 Marcus. My lord. 
 
28o APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act ii 
 
 Appius. Place me a second chair ; that done, 
 
 Remove yourself. So, now your absence, Claudius. 
 
 [Exit Marcus. 
 Icilius, sit ; this grace we make not common 
 Unto the noblest Roman, but to you 4° 
 
 Our love affords it freely. Now your suit ? 
 
 Icil. It is, you would be kind unto the camp. 
 
 Appius. Wherein, Icilius, doth the camp touch thee ? 
 
 Icil. Thus : old Virginius, now my father-in-law, 
 Kept from the public pay, consumes himself, 
 Sells his revenues, turns his plate to coin. 
 To wage his soldiers, and supply the camp ; 
 Wasting that useful substance which indeed 
 Should rise to me, as my Virginia's dowry. 
 
 Appius. We meet that opposition thus, Icilius : 50 
 The camp's supplies doth not consist in us. 
 But those that keep the common Treasury; 
 Speak or entreat we may, but not command. . 
 But, sir, I wonder you, so brave a youth, 
 Son to a thrifty Roman, should ally you, 
 And knit your strong arms to such falling branches ; 
 Which rather in their ruin will bear down 
 Your strength, than you support their rottenness. • 
 Be swayed by me ; fly from that ruinous house. 
 Whose fall may crush you, and contract with mine, 60 
 Whose bases are of marble, deeply fixed 
 To maugre all gusts and impending storms. 
 Cast off that beggar's daughter, poor Virginia, 
 Whose dowry and beauty I'll see trebled both, 
 In one allied to me. Smile you, Icilius ? 
 
 Icil. My lord, my lord, think you I can imagine 
 Your close and sparing hand can be profuse 
 To give that man a palace, whom you late 
 Denied a cottage ? Will you from your own coffers 
 Grant me a treble dowry, yet interpose me 7° 
 
 A poor third from the common Treasury ? 
 You must move me by possibilities, 
 
SCENE III] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 281 
 
 For I have brains : give first your hand and seal, 
 That old Virginias shall receive his pay, 
 Both for himself and soldiers, and that done, 
 I shall perhaps be soon induced to think 
 That you, who with such willingness did that — 
 
 A ppius. Is my love misprized ? 
 
 Icil. Not to Virginia. 
 
 A ppius. Virginia ! 
 
 Icil. Yes, Virginia, lustful lord. 
 
 I did but trace your cunning all this while : So 
 
 You would bestow me on some Appian trull, 
 And for that dross to cheat me of my gold : 
 For this the camp pines, and the city smarts. 
 All Rome fares worse for thy incontinence. 
 
 A ppius. Mine, boy ! 
 
 Icil. Thine, judge. This hand hath intercepted 
 
 Thy letters, and perused thy tempting gifts ; 
 These ears have heard thy amorous passions, wretch ! 
 These eyes beheld thy treacherous name subscribed. 
 A judge ? a devil ! 
 
 A ppius. Come, I'll hear no more. 
 
 Icil. Sit still, or by the powerful gods of Rome 90 
 
 I'll nail thee to the chair : but suffer me, 
 I'll offend nothing but thine ears. 
 
 A ppius. Our secretary ° — • 
 
 Icil. Tempt not a lover's fury ; if thou dost. 
 Now by my vow, insculpt in heaven, I'll send thee — 
 
 A ppius. You see I am patient. 
 
 Icil. But withal revengeless. 
 
 A ppius. So, say on. 
 
 Icil. Hope not of any grace, or the least favour : 
 I am so covetous of Virginia's love, 
 I cannot spare thee the least look, glance, touch : 
 Divide one bare imaginary thought 100 
 
 Into a thousand, thousand parts, and that 
 I'll not afford thee. 
 
 A ppius. Thou shalt not. 
 
282 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act ii 
 
 Icil. Nay, I will not 
 
 Hadst thou a judge's place above those judges 
 That judge all souls, having power to sentence me 
 I would not bribe thee, no, not with one hair 
 From her fair temples. 
 
 Appius. Thou should'st not. 
 
 Icil. Nay, I would not 
 
 Think not her beauty shall have leave to crown 
 Thy lustful hopes with the least spark of bliss. 
 Or have thine ears charmed with the ravishing sound 
 Even of her harshest phrase. 
 
 Appius. I will not. 
 
 Icil. Nay, thou shalt not. 
 
 She's mine, my soul is crowned in her desire. 
 To her I'd travel through a land of fire. 
 
 Appius. Now, have you done? 
 
 Icil. I have spoke my thoughts 
 
 Appius. Then will thy fury give me leave to speak 
 
 Icil. I pray, say on. 
 
 Appius. Icilius, I must chide you, and withal 
 Tell you your rashness hath made forfeiture 
 Even of your precious life, which we esteem 
 Too dear to call in question. If I wished you 
 Of my alliance, graft into my blood, 12 
 
 Condemn you me for that ? O, see the rashness 
 And blind misprision of distempered youth ! 
 As for the maid Virginia, we are far, 
 Even in least thought, from her ; and for those letters, 
 Tokens, and presents, we acknowledge none. 
 Alas ! though great in place, we are not gods : 
 If any false impostor hath usurped 
 Our hand or greatness in his own behoof. 
 Can we help that? Icilius, there's our hand. 
 Your rashness we remit ; let's have hereafter 13' 
 
 Your love and best opinion. For your suit, 
 Repair to us at both our better leisures. 
 We'll breathe in it new life. 
 
APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 283 
 
 Icil. I crave your pardon. 
 
 A p plus. Granted ere craved, my good Icilius. 
 
 Icil. Morrow.° 
 
 Appius. It is no more indeed." Morrow, Icilius. 
 f any of our servants wait without, 
 Command them in. 
 
 Icil. I shall. 
 
 Appius. Our secretary ; 
 
 Ve have use for him ; Icilius, send him hither : 
 ^gain, good-morrow. [Exit Icilius. 
 
 jo to thy death, thy life is doomed and cast. 14° 
 
 Appius, be circumspect, and be not rash 
 n blood, as th' art in lust : be murderous still ; 
 3ut when thou strik'st, with unseen weapons kill. 
 
 Enter Marcus 
 
 Marcus. My honourable lord. 
 
 Appius. Deride me, dog 1 
 
 Marcus. Who hath stirred up this tempest in your brow ? 
 
 Appius. Not you ? fie ! you. 
 
 Marcus. All you Panthean gods'" 
 
 Confound me, if my soul be accessory 
 To your distractions ! 
 
 Appius. To send a ruffian hither. 
 
 Even to my closet ; first, to brave my greatness, 
 Play with my beard, revile me, taunt me, hiss me; 150 
 N'ay, after all these deep disparagements, 
 rhreat me with steel, and menace me, unarmed, 
 ro nail me to my seat if I but moved : 
 i\ll these are slight, slight toys ! 
 
 Marcus. Icilius do this ? 
 
 Appius. Ruffian Icilius : he that in the front 
 Df a smooth citizen bears the rugged soul 
 3f a most base banditto. 
 
 Marcus. He shall die for't. 
 
 ! Appius. Be not too rash. 
 
284 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act 1 
 
 Marcus. Were tliere no more men to support grea 
 Rome, 
 Even falling Rome should perish ere he stand : i6 
 
 I'll after liim, and kill him. 
 
 A p pi us. Stay, I charge thee. 
 
 Lend me a patient ear : to right our wrongs, 
 We must not menace with a public hand ; 
 \\'e stand in the world's eye, and shall be taxed 
 Of the least \'iolence, where we revenge. 
 We should smile smoothest where our hate's most deep 
 And when our spleen's broad waking, seem to sleep. 
 Let the young man play still upon the bit, 
 Till we have brought and trained him to our lure ; 
 Great men should strike but once, and then strike sure. 
 
 Marcus. Love you \'irginia still ? 
 
 Appius. Do I still live? 17: 
 
 Marcus. Then she's your own. Mrginius is, you say 
 Still in the camp ? 
 
 Appius. True. 
 
 Marcus. Now in his absence will I claim Virginia 
 To be the daughter of a bondwoman. 
 And slave to me ; to prove which, I'll produce 
 Firm proofs, notes probable,^ sound witnesses : 
 Then, ha\-ing with your Lictors summoned her, 
 I'll bring the cause before your judgement-seat ; i8c 
 
 Where, upon my infallid e\ddence. 
 You may pronounce the sentence on my side, 
 And she become your strumpet, not your bride. 
 
 Appius. Thou hast a copious brain: but how in this 
 Shall we dispose Icilius ? 
 
 Marcus. If he spurn. 
 
 Clap him up close ; there's ways to charm his spleen. 
 By this no scandal can redound to you ; 
 The cause is mine ; you but the sentencer 
 L^pon that e^idence which I shall bring. 
 The business is, t' have warrants by arrest," 19c 
 
 To answer such things at the judgement-bar 
 
SCENE III] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 285 
 
 As can be laid against her : ere her friends 
 
 Can be assembled, ere herself can study 
 
 Her answer, or scarce know her cause of summons 
 
 To descant on the matter, Appius may 
 
 Examine, try, and doom Virginia. 
 
 But all this must be sudden. 
 
 Appius. Thou art born 
 
 To mount me high above Icilius' scorn. 
 I'll leave it to thy manage. [Exeunt. 
 
ACT THE THIRD 
 
 Scene I° 
 
 Enter Nurse and the Clown 
 
 Clown. What was that you said, Nurse ? 
 
 Nurse. Why, I did say thou must bestir thyself. 
 
 Clown. I warrant you, I can bestir my stumps a 
 soon as another, if fit occasion be offered : but why d( 
 you come upon me in such haste? is it because 
 Nurse, I should come over you at leisure ? 
 
 Nurse. Come over me, thou knave; what dost thov 
 mean by that ? 
 
 Clown. Only this ; if you will come off, I will come on 
 
 Nurse. My lord hath strangers to-night : you mus 
 make ready the parlour, a table and lights : nay, when,' 
 I say ? I 
 
 Clown. Methinks you should rather -wish for a bed thar ' 
 for a board, for darkness than for Hghts ; yet I must confess 
 you have been a Hght woman " in your time : but now — 
 
 Nurse. But now ! what now, you knave ? 
 
 Clown. But now I'll go fetch the table and somt 
 lights presently. 
 
 Enter Numitorius, Horatius, Valerius, and Icilius 
 
 Num. Some lights to usher in these gentlemen. 
 Clear all the rooms without there. Sit, pray sit. 
 None interrupt our conference. 
 
 286 
 
SCENE I] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 287 
 
 Enter Virginia 
 
 Ha, who's that ? 
 
 Nurse. My [foster-] child," if it please you. 
 
 Num. Fair Virginia, you are welcome. 
 The rest forbear us till we call. [Exeunt Nurse and Clown. 
 
 Sweet cousin, 
 Our business and the cause of our discourse 
 Admits you to this council : take your place. 
 Icilius, we are private ; now proceed. 
 
 Icil. Then thus : lord Appius doth intend me wrong ; 
 And under his smooth calmness cloaks a tempest, 
 That will ere long break out in violence 30 
 
 On me and on my fortunes. 
 
 Num. My good cousin. 
 
 You are young, and youth breeds rashness. Can I think 
 Lord Appius will do wrong, who is all justice ; 
 The most austere and upright censurer 
 That ever sat upon the awful bench ? 
 
 Vol. Icilius, you are near to me in blood. 
 And I esteem your safety as mine own : 
 If you will needs wage eminence and state. 
 Choose out a weaker opposite, not one 
 That, in his arm, bears all the strength of Rome. 40 
 
 Num. Besides, Icilius, 
 Know you the danger, what it is to scandal 
 One of his place and sway ? 
 
 Icil. I know it, kinsmen ; yet this popular greatness 
 Can be no bugbear to affright mine innocence. 
 No, his smooth crest hath cast a palped film 
 Over Rome's eyes. He juggles, — a plain juggler ; 
 Lord Appius is no less. 
 
 Num. Nay, then, cousin. 
 
 You are too harsh, and I must hear no more. 
 It ill becomes my place and gravity, 50 
 
 To lend a face to such reproachful terms 
 'Gainst one of his high presence. 
 
j8S APPIUS and VIRGINIA [act i 
 
 Icil. Sit, pray sit, 
 
 To sec me draw liis picture 'fore your eyes, 
 To make this man seem monstrous, and this god 
 Rome so adores, a devil, a plain devil. 
 This lord, this judge, this Appius, that professeth 
 To all the world a vestal chastity. 
 Is an incontinent, loose lecher grown. 
 
 Nuffi. Fie, cousin ! 
 
 /(-//. Nay, 'tis true. Daily and hourl 
 
 He tempts this blushing virgin with large promises, t 
 With melting words, and presents of high rate. 
 To be the stale to his unchaste desires. 
 
 Omti€s. Is't possible ? 
 
 /(-//. Possible! 
 'Tis actual truth ; I pray but ask your niece. 
 
 Virginia. Most true, I am extremely tired ant 
 wearied 
 With messages and tokens of his lo\-e ; 
 No answer, no repulse will satisfy 
 The tediousness of his importunate suit. 
 And whilst I could with modesty and honour, 
 Without the danger of reproach and shame, 
 I kept it secret from Icilius ; 
 But when I saw their boldness found no limit, 
 And they from fair entreaty grew to threats, 
 I told him all. 
 
 /("//. True : understanding which 
 
 To him I went. 
 
 Vol. To Appius ? 
 
 Icil. To that giant, 
 
 The high Colossus that bestrides us all ; 
 I went to him. 
 
 Hor. How did you bear yourself ? 
 
 Icil, Like Appius, at the first, dissemblingly ; 
 But when I saw the coast clear, all withdrawn. 
 And none but we two in the lobby, then 
 I drew my poniard, took him by the throat, 
 
SCENE I] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 289 
 
 And when he would have clamoured, threatened death, 
 Unless he would with patierrce hear me out. . 
 
 .\um. Did he, Icilius ? 
 
 frAl. I made him that he durst not squeak, 
 
 >l move an eye, not draw a breath too loud, 
 \or stir a finger. 
 
 Ilor. What succeeded then ? 
 
 Num. Keep fast the door there ! Sweet coz, not too 
 loud. 
 What then succeeded ? 
 
 Icil. Why, I told him all ; 
 
 Gav^e him his due, called him Jascivious judge, 9° 
 
 (A thousand things which I have now forgot) 
 Showed him his hand a witness 'gainst himself," 
 And everything with such known circumstance. 
 That he might well excuse, but not deny. 
 
 Num. How parted you ? 
 
 Icil. Why, friends in outward show : 
 
 But I perceived his heart : that hypocrite 
 Was bom to gull Rome, and deceive us all. 
 He swore to me quite to abjure her love ; 
 Yet ere myself could reach Virginia's chamber, 
 One was before me with regreets from him ; 100 
 
 I know his hand. Th' intent of this our meeting 
 Was to entreat your counsel and advice : 
 The good old man, her father, is from home ; 
 I think it good that she now in his absence 
 Should lodge in secret with some private friend. 
 Where Appius nor his Lictors, those bloodhounds. 
 Can hunt her out. You are her uncle, sir, 
 I oray, counsel the best. 
 
 Xum. To oppose ourselves, 
 
 -NOW in this heat, against so great a man. 
 Might, in my judgement, to ourselves bring danger, no 
 And to my niece no safety. If we fall. 
 She cannot stand ; let's then preserve ourselves" 
 Until her father be discharged the camp. 
 
290 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act ii 
 
 VaL And, good Icilius, for your private ends, 
 And the dear safety of your friends and kindred, 
 Against that statist spare to use your spleen. 
 
 IciL I will be swayed by you. Aly lords, 'tis late, 
 And time to break up conference. Noble uncle, 
 I am your growing debtor. 
 
 Xuw. Lights without there ! 
 
 IciJ. I will conduct Virginia to her lodging. i 
 
 Good night to all at once. 
 
 Xuw. The gods of Rome protect you all ! and then 
 We need not fear the envious rage of men. [ExeutUj 
 
 Scene 11° 
 EfUer M.\RCUS, with Four Lictors 
 
 Marcus. Lictors, bestow yoursoh'es in some close shops 
 About the Forum, till you have the sight 
 Of fair Virginia ; for I understand 
 This present morning she'll come forth to buy 
 Some necessaries at the sempsters' shops : 
 Howe'er accompanied, be it your care 
 To seize her at our action. Good, my friends, 
 Disperse yourselves, and keep a careful watch. [ExiL 
 
 First Lid. 'Tis strange that ladies will not pay their 
 debts." 
 
 Second Lict. It were strange, indeed, if that our Roman 
 knights would give them good example, and pay theirs. 
 
 First Lict. The calendar that we Lictors go by is all 
 dog-days. 
 
 Second Lict. Right ; our common hunt is still to dog 
 un thrifts. 
 
 First Lict. And what's your book of common prayer ?; 
 
 Second Lict. Faith, only for the increase of riotous 
 young gentlemen i' th' country, and banquerouts i' th' 
 city. 
 
KNK II] APPIUS /v.Nj.- VIRGINIA 291 
 
 Fir^t Lict. I know no man more valiant than we are, 
 
 ♦or we back knights and gentlemen daily. 2f 
 
 Second Lict. Right, we have them by the back hourly : 
 
 ar French fly" applied to the nape of the neck for the 
 
 '';nch rheum, is not so sore a drawer as a Lictor. 
 
 I'irsl Lict. S<jme say that if a little- timbered fellow 
 
 wr^uld jostle a great loggerhead, let him l>e sure to lay 
 
 him i' th' kennel;" but when we shoulder a knight, or 
 
 a knight's fellow, we make him more sure, for we kennel 
 
 him i' th' counter." 
 
 Second Lict. Come, let's about our business. 3^ 
 
 Enter Virginia, Nurse, and Clown 
 
 Virginia. You are grown wondrous amorous of late. 
 Why do you look back so often ? 
 
 Clcram. Madam, I go as a Frenchman rides, all upon 
 
 e buttock. 
 
 Virginia. And what's the reason ? 
 
 Clown. Your ladyship never saw a monkey in all 
 
 ur lifetime have a clog at's tail, but he's still looking 
 back to see what the devil 'tis that follows him. 
 
 Nurse. Very good ; we are your clogs then. 
 
 Virginia. Your crest is grown regardant. 40 
 
 Here's the beauty" 
 That makes your eyes forgetful of their way. 
 
 Clcrjun. Beauty I O, the gods ! madam, I cannot en- 
 '?'jre her complexion. 
 
 Nurse. Why, sir, what's my complexion ? 
 
 Clown. Thy complexion is just between a Moor and 
 a Frenchwoman. 
 
 Virginia. But she hath a matchless eye, sir. 
 
 Clown. True, her eyes are not right matches ; besides, 
 she is a widow. ^o 
 
 Nurse. What then, I pray you ? 
 
 CloTtim. Of all waters, I would not have my beef po ■ 
 dered with a widow's tears." 
 
292 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act ii 
 
 Virginia. Why, I beseech you ? 
 
 Clown. O, they are too fresh, madam; assure your- 
 self they will not last for the death of fourteen hus- 
 bands above a day and a quarter: besides, if a man 
 come a wooing to a widow, and invite her to a banquet, 
 contrary to the old rule, she will sooner fill her eye 
 than her belly. Besides that, if he look into her estate, 
 first — look you, here are four fingers — first the charge 
 of her husband's funeral, next debts and legacies, and 
 lastly the reversion f now take away debts and legacies, 
 and what remains for her second husband ? 64 
 
 Nurse. I would some of the tribe heard you ! 
 
 Clown. There's a certain fish that, as the learned 
 divulge, is called a shark : now this fish can never feed 
 while he swims upon's belly ; marry, when he lies upon 
 his back, O, he takes it at pleasure. 
 
 Virginia. Well, sir, about your business; make pro- 
 vision 70 
 Of those things I directed. 
 
 Clown. Sweet lady, these eyes shall be the clerks of 
 the kitchen for your belly ; but I can assure you, wood- 
 cocks will be hard to be spoke with,° for there's a great 
 feast towards. 
 
 Virginia. You are very pleasant. 
 
 Clown. And fresh cod is taken down thick and three- 
 fold ;° women without great bellies go together by the 
 ears for't ;° and such a number of sweet-toothed caters 
 in the market, not a calf's head to be got for love or 
 money ; mutton's mutton" now. 81 
 
 Virginia. Why, was it not so ever ? 
 
 Clown. No, madam, the sinners i' th' suburbs had 
 almost ta'en the name quite away from't,*^ 'twas so cheap 
 and common: but now 'tis at a sweet reckoning; the 
 term time is the mutton-monger in the whole calendar." 
 
 Nurse. Do your lawyers eat any salads with their 
 mutton ? 
 
 Clown. Yes, the younger revellers use capers to their 
 
SCENE II] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 293 
 
 mutton so long, till with their shuffling and cutting 
 some of them be out at heels again. A bountiful mind 
 and a full purse ever attend your ladyship. 92 
 
 Virginia. O, I thank you. 
 
 Eftter Marcus and Four Lictors 
 
 Marcus. See, yon's the lady. 
 
 Clown. I will buy up for your ladyship all the young 
 cuckoos" in the market. 
 
 Virginia. What to do ? 
 
 Clown. O, 'tis the most delicatest dish, I'll assure 
 you, and newest in fashion: not a great feast in all 
 Rome without a cuckoo. 100 
 
 Marcus. Virginia. 
 
 Virginia. Sir. 
 
 Marcus. Mistress, you do not know me, 
 
 Yet we must be acquainted : follow me. 
 
 Virginia. You do salute me strangely. Follow you ! 
 
 Clown. Do you hear, sir ? methinks you have followers 
 enough. Many gentlemen that I know would not have 
 so many tall followers °^ as you have for the price of ten 
 hunting geldings, I'll assure you. 
 
 Marcus. Come, will you go ? 
 
 Virginia. Whither ? By what command ? 
 
 Marcus. By warrant of these men, and privilege 
 I hold even on thy life. Come, ye proud dame, no 
 
 You are not what you seem. 
 
 Virginia. Uncivil sir. 
 
 What makes you thus familiar and thus bold ? 
 Unhand me, villain ! 
 
 Marcus. What, mistress, to your lord ? 
 
 He that can set the razor to your throat, 
 And punish you as freely as the gods, 
 No man to ask the cause ? Thou art my slave, 
 And here I seize what's mine. 
 
 Virginia. Ignoble villain ! 
 
 I am as free as the best king or consul 
 
294 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act iii 
 
 Since Romulus. What dost thou mean ? Unhand me ! — 
 Give notice to my uncle and Icilius, 120 
 
 What violence is offered me. [To Corbulo. 
 
 Marcus. Do, do. 
 
 Clown. Do you press women for soldiers, or do you 
 beg women, instead of other commodities, to keep your 
 hands in ure ? By this Hght, if thou hast any ears on 
 thy head, as it is a question, I'll make my lord pull you 
 out by th' ears, though you take a castle. [Exit. 
 
 Marcus. Come, will you go along ? 
 
 Nurse. Whither should she go, sir? Here's pulHng: 
 and haling a poor gentlewoman ! 130 
 
 Marcus. Hold you your prating; reverence the 
 whip. 
 Shall seize on you for your smooth cozenage." 
 
 Virginia. Are not you servant to lord Appius ? 
 
 Marcus. Howe'er," I am your lord, and will approve it 
 'Fore all the Senate. 
 
 Virginia. Thou ^\^lt prove thyself 
 
 The cursed pander for another's lust ; 
 And this your plot shall burst about your ears 
 Like thunderbolts. 
 
 Marcus. Hold you that confidence : 
 
 First I will seize you by the course of law, 
 And then I'll talk with you. 140 
 
 Enter Icilius and Numitorius 
 
 Num. How now, fair cousin ? 
 
 Icil. How now, gentlemen ? 
 
 What's the offence of fair Virginia, 
 You bend your weapons on us ? 
 
 Lict. Sir, stand back, 
 
 We fear a rescue. 
 
 Icil. There's no need of fear. 
 
 Where there's no cause of rescue. What's the matter? 
 
 Virginia. O my Icilius, your incredulity 
 
SCENE II] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 295 
 
 Hath quite undone me ! I am now no more 
 Virginius's daughter, so this villain urges, 
 But published for his bondwoman. 
 
 Num. How's this ? 
 
 Marcus. 'Tis true, my lord, 150 
 
 And I will take my right by course of law. 
 
 Icil. Villains, set her free. 
 Or by the power of all our Roman gods, 
 I'll give that just revenge unto my rage 
 Which should be given to justice ! Bondwoman ! 
 
 Marcus. Sir, we do not come to fight, we'll deal 
 
 Enter Appius 
 
 By course of law. My lord, we fear a rescue. 
 
 Appius. A rescue! never fear't; here's none in pre- 
 sence 
 But civil men. My lord, I am glad to see you. 
 Noble IciHus, we shall ever love you. 160 
 
 Now, gentlemen, reach your petitions. 
 
 Icil. My lord, my lord — 
 
 Appius. Worthy Icilius, if you have any business 
 Defer't until to-morrow, or the afternoon : 
 I shall be proud to pleasure you. 
 
 Icil. [Aside.] The fox 
 
 Is earthed, my lord, you cannot wind him yet. 
 
 Appius. Stools for my noble friends. — I pray you sit. 
 
 Marcus. May it please your lordship — 
 
 Appius. Why, uncivil sir, 
 
 Have I not begged forbearance of my best 
 And dearest friends, and must you trouble me ? 170 
 
 Marcus. My lord, I must be heard, and will be heard : 
 Were all the gods in parliament, I'd burst 
 Their silence with my importunity. 
 But they should hear me. 
 
 Appius. The fellow's mad ! 
 
 We have no leisure now to hear you, sir. 
 
296 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act hi 
 
 Marcus. Hast now no leisure to hear just complaints ? 
 Resign thy place, O Appius, that some other 
 May do me justice, then ! 
 
 Appius. We'll hear't to-morrow. 
 
 Marcus. O my lord, 
 Deny me justice absolutely, rather 180 
 
 Than feed me with delays. 
 
 Icil. Good my lord, hear him : 
 
 And wonder when you hear him, that a case 
 So full of vile imposture should desire 
 To be unfolded. 
 
 Marcus. Aye, my lord, 'tis true; 
 
 [But] the imposture is on their parts." 
 
 Appius. Hold your prating : 
 
 Away with him to prison, clamorous fellow ! 
 Suspect you our uprightness ? 
 
 Marcus. No, my lord : 
 
 But I have mighty enemies, my lord. 
 Will overflow my cause. See, here I hold 
 My bondwoman, that brags herself to be 190 
 
 Descended of a noble family. 
 My purse is too scant to wage law with them : 
 I am enforced be mine own advocate. 
 Not one ^^'ill plead for me. Now if 3^our lordship 
 Will do me justice, so ; if not, then know 
 High hills are safe, when seas poor dales o'erflow. 
 
 Appius. Sirrah, I think it fit to let you know, 
 Ere you proceed in tliis your subtle suit. 
 What penalty and danger you accrue. 
 If you be found to double. Here's a virgin 200 
 
 Famous by birth, by education noble ; 
 And she, forsooth, haply but to draw 
 Some piece of money from her worthy father, 
 Must needs be challenged for a bondwoman. 
 Sirrah, take heed, and well bethink yourself ; 
 I'll make you a precedent to all the world, 
 If I but find you tripping. 
 
'.rKNKii] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 297 
 
 Marcus. Do it freely : 
 
 And view on that condition these just proofs." 
 
 Appius. Is that the virgin's nurse ? 209 
 
 Nurse. Her milch nurse, my lord : I had a sore hand 
 with her for a year and a quarter: I have had some- 
 what to do with her since, too, for the poor gentle- 
 woman hath been so troubled with the green sickness. 
 
 Icil. I pray thee, Nurse, entreat Sertorius 
 To come and speak with me. [Exit Nurse. 
 
 A ppius. Here is strange circumstance ; view it, my 
 lord: 
 If he should prove this, it would make Virginius 
 Think he were wronged. 
 
 fcil. There is a devilish cunning 
 
 Expressed in this black forgery. 
 
 Appius. Icilius and Virginia, pray come near; 220 
 
 Compound with this base fellow. You were better 
 Disburse some trifle, than to undergo 
 The question of her freedom. 
 
 Icil. my lord, 
 
 She were not worth a handful of a bribe, 
 If she did need a bribe ! 
 
 A ppius. Nay, take your course ; 
 
 I only give you my opinion, 
 1 ask no fee for't. Do you know this fellow ? 
 
 Virginia. Yes, my lord ; he's your servant. 
 
 Appius. You're i' th' right: 
 
 But will you truly know his character? 
 He was at first a petty notary ; 230 
 
 A fellow^ that, being trusted with large sums 
 Of honest citizens, to be employed 
 I' th' trade of usury, this gentleman, 
 Couching his credit like a tilting-staff, 
 ; Most cunningly it brake, and at one course 
 He ran away with thirty thousand pound. 
 Returning to the city seven year after. 
 Having compounded with his creditors 
 
20S AFPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act iii 
 
 For the third moiety, he buys an otlice 
 
 Belonging to our place, depends on us ; 240 
 
 In which the oppression and vile injuries 
 
 He hath done poor suitors, they have cause to rue, 
 
 And I to pity : he hath sold his smiles 
 
 For silver, but liis promises for gold ; 
 
 His delays have undone men. 
 
 The plague that in some folded cloud remains, 
 
 The bright sun soon disperseth ; but observe, 
 
 When black infection in some dunghill lies. 
 
 There's work for bells and graves, if it do rise. 
 
 Xufft. He was an ill prop to your house, my 
 lord. 250 
 
 Appius. Tis true, my lord: but we that have such 
 servants, 
 Are like to cuckolds that have riotous wives; 
 We are the last that know it : this is it 
 Makes noblemen suspected to have done ill, 
 When the oppression lies in their proud followers. 
 
 Marcus. My lord, it was some soothing sycophant, 
 Some base detracting rascal, that hath spread 
 This falsehood in your ears. 
 
 Appius. Peace, impudence ! 
 
 Did I not yesterday, no longer since, 
 Surprise thee in thy study counterfeiting 260 
 
 Our hand ? 
 
 }farius. "Tis true, my lord. 
 
 Appius. Being subscribed 
 
 Unto a letter tilled with amorous stuff 
 Unto this lady ? 
 
 Marcus. I have asked your pardon, 
 
 And gave you reason why I was so bold 
 To use that forgery. 
 
 Appius. Did you receive it? 
 
 Virginia. I did, my lord, and I can show your lordship 
 A packet of such letters. 
 
 Appius. Now, by the gods, 
 
i:ne II] APPIUS A.\i; \ IKMNIA 299 
 
 : I'll make you rue it ! I beseech you, sir, 
 ! Show them the reason moved you counterfeit 
 Our letter. • 
 
 Enter Sertorius 
 
 Marcus. Sir, I had no other colour 270 
 
 '\n come to speak with her. 
 
 A ppius. A goodly reason I 
 
 I Did you until this hour acquaint the lady 
 With your intended suit ? 
 
 Marcus. At several times. 
 
 And would have drawn her by some private course 
 To have compounded for her liberty. 
 
 Virginia. Now, by a virgin's honour and true birth, 
 'Tis false, my lord ! I never had a dream 
 So terrible as is this monstrous devil. 
 
 A ppius. Well, sir, referring my particular wrong 
 To a particular censure," I would know 280 
 
 What is your suit ? 
 
 Marcus. My lord, a speedy trial. 
 
 A ppius. You shall obtain't with all severity: 
 I will not give you longer time to dream 
 Upon new sleights to cloak your forgery. 
 Observe you this chameleon, my lords, 
 I'll make him change his colour presently. 
 
 Num. My lord, although th' uprightness of our cause 
 Needs no delays, yet for the satisfaction 
 Of old Virginius, let him be present 
 When we shall crave a trial. 
 
 A ppius. Sir, it needs not: 290 
 
 Who stands for father of the innocent, 
 If not the judge ? I'll save the poor old man 
 That needless travel. 
 
 Virginia. With your favour, sir. 
 
 We must entreat some respite in a business 
 So needful of his presence. 
 
 A ppius. I do protest 
 
300 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act in 
 
 You wrong yourselves thus to importune it. 
 Well, let it be to-morrow ; I'll not sleep 
 Till I have made this thicket a smoDth plain, 
 And given you your true honour back again. 
 
 Icil. My lord, the distance 'twixt the camp and us 300 
 Cannot be measured in so short a time : 
 Let us have four days' respite. 
 
 Appius. You are unwise ; 
 
 Rumour by that time will have fully spread 
 The scandal, which being ended in one hour 
 Will turn to air : to-morrow is the trial ; 
 In the meantime let all contented thoughts 
 Attend you. 
 
 Marcus. My lord, you deal unjustly 
 Thus to dismiss her ; this is that they seek for : 
 Before to-morrow they'll convey her hence, 
 W^here my claim shall not seize her. 
 
 Appius. Cunning knave ! 
 
 You would have bond for her appearance ? say ? 311 > 
 
 Marcus. I think the motion's honest. 
 
 Appius. Very good. 
 
 Icilius shall engage his honoured word 
 For her appearance. 
 
 Marcus. As you please, my lord ; 
 
 But it were fitting her old uncle there 
 Were jointly bound with him. 
 
 Appius. Well, sir, your pleasure 
 
 Shall have satiety. You'll take our word 
 For her appearance ; will you not, sir, I pray? 
 
 Marcus. Most willingly, my lord. 
 
 Appius. Then, sir, you have it : 
 
 And i' th' meantime, I'll take the honoured lady 320 
 Into my guardianship ; and, by my life, 
 I'll use her in all kindness as my wife. 
 
 Icil. Now, by the gods, you shall not ! 
 
 Appius. Shall not, what ? 
 
 Icil. Not use her as your wife, sir. 
 
SCENE II] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 30I 
 
 Appius. O, my lord, 
 
 I spake it from my heart. 
 
 Icil. ^ Aye, very likely. 
 
 She is a virgin, sir, and must not He 
 Under a man's forthcoming ; '^ do you mark? — 
 [Aside.] Not under your forthcoming, lecherous Appius. 
 
 Appius. Mistake me not, my lord. Our secre- 
 I tary, 
 
 Take bonds for the appearance of this lady. 330 
 
 And now to you, sir ; you that were my servant, 
 I here casliier you ; never shaft thou shroud 
 Thy villainies under our noble roof. 
 Nor scape the whip, or the fell hangman's hook, 
 By warrant of our favour. 
 
 Marcus. So, my lord, 
 
 I am more free to serve the gods, I hope, 
 Now I have lost your service. 
 
 Appius. Hark you, sirrah, 
 
 Who shall give bonds for your appearance, ha ! 
 To justify your claim ? 
 
 Marcus. I have none, my lord. 
 
 Appius. Away ! commit him prisoner to his cham- 
 ber : 340 
 I'll keep you safe from starting," 
 
 Marcus. Why, my lord — 
 
 Appius. Away, I will not hear you ; 
 A judge's heart here in the midst must stand, 
 And move not a hair's breadth to either hand. 
 
 [Exit with Marcus. 
 
 Num. O, were thy heart but of the selfsame piece 
 Thy tongue is, Appius, how blessed were Rome ! 
 
 Icil. Post to the camp, Sertorius ; thou hast heard 
 Th' effect of all, relate it to Virginius. 
 I pray thee use thy ablest horsemanship, 
 For it concerns us near. 
 
 Sert. I go, my lord. [Exit. 350 
 
 Icil. Sure all this is damned cunning. 
 
302 APPIUS Ax\D VIRGINIA [act i 
 
 Virginia. O my lord, 
 
 Seamen in tempests shun the flattering shore ; 
 To bear full sails upon't were danger more : 
 So men o erborne with greatness still hold dread ° 
 False seeming friends that on their bosoms spread : 
 For this is a safe truth which neA'er varies, 
 He that strikes all liis sails seldom miscarries. 
 
 Icil. ]\lust we be slaves both to a tyrant's wdll, 
 And confounding ignorance," at once ? 
 Where are we ? in a mist, or is this hell ? 36* 
 
 I have seen as great as the proud judge have fell. 
 The bending willow yielding to each wind. 
 Shall keep his rooting firm, when the proud oak, 
 Bra\'ing the storm, presuming on his root. 
 Shall have his body rent from head to foot. 
 Let us expect the worst that may befall. 
 And with a noble confidence bear all. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene III° 
 Enter Appros, Marcus, and a Servant 
 
 Appius. Here, bear this packet to Minutius, 
 And privately deUver't : make as much speed 
 As if thy father were deceased i' th' camp, 
 And that thou went'st to take th' administration 
 Of what he left thee. Fly ! 
 
 Scn\ I go, my lord. [Exit 
 
 Appius. O my trusty Claudius ! 
 
 Marcus. My dear lord. 
 
 Let me adore your di\dne policy. 
 You have poisoned them ^^-ith sweetmeats ; you have, 
 
 my lord. 
 But what contain those letters? 
 
 Appius. Much importance 
 
 ^linutius is conmianded by that packet 
 
 
scenes] APPIL'S and VIRGINIA 303 
 
 To hold \'irginius prisoner in the camp 
 On some suspect of treason. 
 
 Marcus. But, my lord, 
 
 How will you answer this? 
 
 1 ppius. Tush, any fault 
 
 Oi shadow of a crime ^N-ill be sufficient 
 For his committing : thus, when he is absent, 
 We shall in a more calm and friendly sea 
 Sail to our purpose. 
 
 Marcus. Mercury himself 
 
 Could not direct more safely. 
 
 Appius. O my Claudius, 
 
 Observe this rule ; one ill must cure another ; 
 As aconitum, a strong poison, brings 20 
 
 A present cure against all serpents' stings. 
 In high attempts the soul hath infinite eyes,° 
 And 'tis necessity makes men most wise. 
 Should I miscarry in this desperate plot. 
 This of my fate in aftertimes be spoken, 
 I'll break that with my weight on which I'm broken. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV ^ 
 
 Enter Two Servingmen at one door, at the other the Clown, 
 melancholy 
 
 First Serv. WTiy, how now, Corbulo? thou wast not 
 wont to be of this sad temper. What's the matter now ? 
 
 Clown. Times change, and seasons alter, 
 Some men are bom to the bench, and some to the halter. 
 What do you think now that I am ? 
 
 First Sere. I think thee to be Virginia's man, and 
 Corbulo. 
 
 Clou^n. Xo, no such matter : guess again : tell me but 
 what I am, or what manner of fellow you imagine me to 
 be. 10 
 
304 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act 
 
 First Serv. I take thee to be an honest good fellow. 
 
 Clown. Wide of the bow-hand ° still : Corbulo is 
 such man. 
 
 Second Serv. What art thou, then ? 
 
 Clown. Listen, and I'll describe myself to you: I am 
 something better than a knave, and yet come short of 
 being an honest man ; and though I can sing a treble, yet 
 am accounted but as one of the base, being indeed, and 
 as the case stands with me at this present, inferior to aj 
 rogue, and three degrees worse than a rascal. 20 1 
 
 First Serv. How comes this to pass ? 
 
 Clown. Only by my service's success. Take heed 
 whom you serve, O you serving creatures ! for this is 
 all I have got by serving my lady Virginia. 
 
 Second Serv. Why, what of her ? 
 
 Clown. She is not the woman you take her to be ; for 
 though she have borrowed no money, yet she is entered 
 into bonds ; and though you may think her a woman not 
 sufficient, yet 'tis very like her bond will be taken. The 
 truth is, she is challenged to be a bondwoman; now if 
 she be a bondwoman and a slave, and I her servant and 
 vassal, what did you take me to be ? I am an ant, a gnat, 
 a worm; a woodcock amongst birds; a hodmondod 
 amongst flies ; amongst curs a trendle-tail" and amongst 
 fishes a poor iper; but amongst servingmen worse, 
 worse than the man's man to the under yeomen-fewterer. 
 
 First Serv. But is it possible thy lady is challenged to 
 be a slave ? What witness have they ? 38 
 
 Clown. Witness these fountains, these flood-gates, 
 these well-springs ! The poor gentlewoman was arrested 
 in the open market ; I offered, I offered to bail her ; but 
 (though she was) I could not be taken. The grief hath 
 gone so near my heart, that until I be made free, I 
 shall never be mine own man. The lord Appius hath 
 committed her to ward, and it is thought she shall neither 
 lie on the knight side, nor in the twopenny ward ; ° for 
 if he may have his will of her, he means to put her in the 
 
pCENEiv] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 305 
 
 hole." His warrant hath been out for her ; but how the 
 case stands with him, or how matters will be taken up 
 with her, 'tis yet uncertain. 50 
 
 Second Serv. When shall the trial be ? 
 
 Clown. I take it to be as soon as the morning is brought 
 a-bed of a new son and heir. 
 
 Second Serv. And when is that ? 
 
 Clown, Why, to-morrow; for every morning, you 
 know, brings forth a new sun; but they are all short- 
 lived, for every night she drowns them in the western 
 sea. But to leave these enigmas, as too high for your 
 dull apprehensions: shall I see you at the trial to- 
 morrow ? 60 
 
 First Serv. By Jove's help, I'll be there. 
 
 Second Serv. And I, if I live. 
 
 Clown. And I, if I die for't : here's my hand, I'll meet 
 you. It is thought that my old master will be there at 
 the bar ; for though all the timber of his house yet stand, 
 yet my lord Numitorius hath sent one of his posts to 
 the camp to bid him spur, cut, and come to the sentence. 
 lO, we have a house at home as heavy as if it were covered 
 With lead ! But you will remember to be there. 
 I First Serv. And not to fail. 70 
 
 ! Clown. If I chance to meet you there, and that the 
 case go against us, I will give you a quart, not of wine, 
 but of tears ; for instead of a new roll, I purpose to break 
 my fast with sops of sorrow. [Exeunt. 
 
ACT THE FOURTH 
 
 Scene I° 
 
 Enter Virginius, like a slave; Numitorius, Icilius 
 Valerius, Horatius, Virginia, like a slave; Julia 
 Calphurnia, and Nurse 
 
 Virginius. Thanks to my noble friends: it no\^ 
 appears 
 That you have rather loved me than my fortune, 
 For that's near shipwrecked : chance, you see, still ranges^ 
 And this short dance of life is full of changes. 
 Appius — how hollow that name sounds, how dreadful 
 It is a question whether the proud lecher 
 Will view us to our merit ; for they say. 
 His memory to virtue and good men 
 Is still carousing Lethe.'^ O the gods ! 
 Not with more terror do the souls in hell lo 
 
 Appear before the seat of Rhadamant,° 
 Than the poor client yonder. 
 
 Num. O Virginius; 
 
 Why do you wear this habit ? it ill fits 
 Your noble person, or this reverend place. 
 
 Virginius. That's true, old man; but it well fits the 
 case 
 That's now in question. If with form and show 
 They prove her slaved, all freedom I'll forego. 
 
 Icil. Noble Virginius, 
 Put out a bold and confident defence ; 
 Search the imposture, like a cunning trier ; 20 
 
 False metals bear the touch, but brook not fire, 
 Their brittleness betrays them : let your breath 
 Discover as much shame in them, as death 
 
 306 
 
 I I 
 
SCENE I] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 307 
 
 Did ever draw from offenders : let your truth 
 Nobly supported, void of fear or art, 
 Welcome whatever comes with a great heart. 
 
 Virginius. Now, by the gods, I thank thee, noble 
 youth ! 
 I never feared in a besieged town 
 Mines or great engines like yon lawyer's gown. 
 
 Virginia. O my dear lord and father ! once you gave 
 me 30 
 
 A noble freedom, do not see it lost 
 Without a forfeit ; take the life you gave me, 
 And sacrifice it rather to the gods 
 Than to a villain's lust. Happy the wretch 
 Who, born in bondage, lives and dies a slave, 
 And sees no lustful projects bent upon her, w 
 And neither knows the life nor death of honour. 
 
 Icil. We have neither justice, no, nor violence, 
 Which should reform corruption sufficient 
 To cross their black premeditated doom.° 4° 
 
 Appius will seize her ; all the fire in hell 
 Is leaped into his bosom. 
 
 Virginius. O you gods. 
 
 Extinguish it with your compassionate tears, 
 Although you make a second deluge spread. 
 And swell more high than Teneriff's high head ! 
 Have not the wars heaped snow sufficient 
 Upon this aged head, but they will still 
 Pile winter upon winter ? 
 
 Enter Appius, Oppius, Marcus, Six Senators, Advocate, 
 and Lictors 
 
 Appius. Is he come ! say? 
 
 Now, by my life, I'll quit the general. 
 
 Num. Your reverence to the judge, good brother. 50 
 Virginius. Yes, sir, I have learnt my compliment 
 thus: 
 
308 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act iv 
 
 Blessed mean estates who stand in fear of many, 
 And great are cursed for that they fear not any. 
 
 Appius. What, is Virginius come ? 
 
 Virginius. I am here, my lord. , 
 
 Appius. Where is your daughter ? 
 
 Num. Here, my reverend lord. 
 
 Your habit shows you strangely.^ 
 
 Virginia. O, 'tis fit ; 
 
 It suits both time and cause. Pray pardon it. 
 
 Appius. Where is your advocate ? 
 
 Virginius. I have none, my lord ; 
 
 Truth needs no advocate : the unjust cause 
 Buys up the tongues that travel with applause 60 : 
 
 In these your thronged courts : I want not any. 
 And count J^im the most wretched that needs many. 
 
 Adv. May it please your reverend lordships — 
 
 Appius. What are you, sir? 
 
 Adv. Of counsel with my client, Marcus Claudius. 
 
 Virginius. My lord, I undertake a desperate combat 
 To cope with this most eloquent lawyer : 
 I have no skill i' th' weapon, good my lord : 
 I mean I am not travelled in your laws : 
 My suit is therefore, by your special goodness, 
 They be not wrested against me.'^ 70 
 
 Appius. O Virginius, the gods defend they should ! 
 
 Virginius. Your humble servant shall ever pray for you. 
 Thus shall your glory be above your place, 
 Or those high titles which you hold in court ; 
 For they die blessed that die in good report. 
 Now, sir, I stand you.° 
 
 Adv. Then have at you, sir. 
 
 May it please your lordships, here is such a case, 
 So full of subtlety, and, as it were, 
 So far benighted in an ignorant mist. 
 That though my reading be sufficient, 80 
 
 My practice more, I never was entangled 
 In the like purse-net. Here is one that claims 
 
SCENE I] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 309 
 
 This woman for his daughter : here's another 
 Affirms she is his bondslave : now the question 
 (With favour of the bench) I shall make plain 
 In two words only without circumstance. 
 
 Appius. Fall to your proofs. 
 
 Adv. Where are our papers ? 
 
 Marcus. Here, sir. 
 
 Adv. Where, sir? I vow y'are the most tedious 
 client. — 
 Now we come to't, my lord. Thus stands the case, 
 The law is clear on our sides. [To Marcus.] Hold 
 your prating. 9° 
 
 That honourable lord Virginius, 
 Having been married about fifteen year, 
 And issueless, this virgin's politic mother, 
 Seeing the land was likely to descend 
 To Numitorius — I pray, sir, listen ; 
 You, my lord Numitorius, attend ; 
 We a're on your side — old Virginius, 
 Employed in foreign wars, she sends him word 
 She was with child — observe it, I beseech you, 
 And note the trick of a deceitful woman : 100 
 
 She in the meantime feigns the passions 
 Of a great-bellied woman ; counterfeits 
 Their passions and their qualms ; and verily 
 All Rome held this for no imposturous stuff : 
 What's to be done now ? Here's a rumour spread 
 Of a young heir, gods bless it ! and belly 
 Bumbasted with a cushion : but there wants, 
 (What wants there ?) nothing but a pretty babe. 
 Bought with some piece of money — where — it skills 
 
 not, 
 To furnish this supposed lying-in. no 
 
 Nurse. I protest, my lord, the fellow i' th' night-cap" 
 Hath not spoke one true word yet. 
 
 Appius.' Hold you your prating, woman, till you are 
 called. 
 
3IO APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act iv 
 
 Adv. 'Tis purchased. Where? From this man's 
 bondwoman. 
 The money paid. [To Marcus.] What was the sum 
 of money ? 
 
 Marcus. A thousand drachmas. 
 
 Adv. Good ; a thousand drachmas. 
 
 Appius. Where is that bondwoman ? 
 
 Marcus. She's dead, my lord. 
 
 Appius. O, dead; that makes your cause suspicious. 
 
 Adv. But here's her deposition on her death-bed, 
 With other testimony to confirm 120 
 
 What we have said is true. Will't please your lord- 
 ship 
 Take pains to view these writings ? Here, my lord ; 
 We shall not need to hold your lordships long, 
 We'll make short work on't. 
 
 Virginius. My lord — 
 
 Appius. By your favour. — 
 
 If that your claim be just, how happens it 
 That you have discontinued it the space 
 Of fourteen years ? 
 
 Adv. I shall resolve your lordship. 
 
 Icil. I vow this is a practised dialogue : 
 Comes it not rarely off ? 
 
 Virginia. Peace; give them leave. 
 
 Adv. 'Tis very true : this gentleman ^ at first 130 
 
 Thought to conceal this accident, and did so ; 
 Only revealed his knowledge to the mother 
 Of this fair bondwoman, who bought his silence, 
 During her lifetime, with great sums of coin. 
 
 Appius. Where are your proofs of that ? 
 
 Adv. Here, my good lord, with depositions likewise. 
 
 Appius. Well, go on. 
 
 Adv. For your question 
 
 Of discontinuance : put case my slave 
 Run away from me, dwell in some near city • 
 The space of twenty years, and there grow rich, 140 
 
SCENE I] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 311 
 
 It is in my discretion, by your favour, 
 To seize him when I please. 
 
 Appiiis. That's very true. 
 
 Virginius. Cast not your noble beams,° you reverend 
 judges. 
 On such a putrified dunghill. 
 
 Appius. By your favour : you shall be heard anon. 
 
 Virginius. My lords, believe not this spruce orator : 
 Had I but feed him first, he would have told 
 As smooth a tale on our side. 
 
 Appius. Give us leave. 
 
 Virginius. He deals in formal glosses, cunning shows, 
 And cares not greatly which way the case goes. 150 
 
 Examine, I beseech you, this old woman, 
 Who is the truest witness of her birth. 
 
 Appius. Soft you ; is she your only witness? 
 
 Virginius. She is, my lord. 
 
 Appius. Why, is it possible 
 
 Such a great lady, in her time of childbirth, 
 Should have no other witness but a nurse ? 
 
 Virginius. For aught I know the rest are dead, my 
 lord. 
 
 Appius. Dead? no, my lord, behke they were of 
 counsel 
 With your deceased lady, and so" shamed 
 Twice to give colour to so vile an act. 160 
 
 Thou, nurse, observe me ; thy offence already 
 Doth merit punishment beyond our censure ; 
 Pull not more whips upon thee. 
 
 Nurse. I defy your whips, my lord. 
 
 Appius. Command her silence, Lictors. 
 
 Virginius. O, injustice ! you frown away my witness ! 
 Is this law ? is this uprightness ? 
 
 Appius. Have you viewed the writings? 
 This is a trick to make our slaves our heirs 
 Beyond prevention. 
 
 Virginius. Appius, wilt thou hear me ? 
 
312 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act i\ 
 
 You have slandered a sweet lady that now sleeps 170 
 In a most noble monument. Observe me : 
 I would have ta'en her simple word to gage 
 Before his soul or thine. 
 
 Appius. That makes thee wretched. 
 
 Old man, I am sorry for thee that thy love 
 By custom is grown natural, which by nature 
 Should be an absolute loathing : note the sparrow, 
 That having hatched a cuckoo, when it sees 
 Her brood a monster to her proper kind, 
 Forsakes it, and with more fear shuns the nest. 
 Than she had care i' th' spring to have it dressed, 180 
 Cast thy affection, then, behind thy back, 
 And think — 
 
 Adv. Be wise ; take counsel of your friends. 
 
 You have many soldiers in their time of service 
 Father strange children. 
 
 Virginius. True ; and pleaders, too, 
 
 When they are sent to visit provinces. 
 You, my most neat and cunning orator, 
 Whose tongue is quicksilver, pray thee, good Janus, 
 Look not so many several ways at once, 
 But go to th' point. 
 
 Adv. I will, and keep you out 
 
 At point's end,'^ though I am no soldier. 190 
 
 Appius. First the oath of the deceased bondwoman. 
 
 Adv. A very virtuous matron. 
 
 Appius. Joined with the testimony of Claudius. 
 
 Adv. A most approved honest gentleman. 
 
 Appius. Besides six other honest gentlemen. 
 
 Adv. All knights, and there's no question but their 
 oaths 
 Will go for current. 
 
 Appius. See, my reverend lords. 
 
 And wonder at a case so evident. 
 
 Virginius. My lord, I knew it. 
 
 Adv. Observe, my lord, how their own poHcy 
 
SCENE I] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 313 
 
 Confounds them. Had your lordship yesterday 200 
 
 Proceeded, as 'twas fit, to a just sentence. 
 
 The apparel and the jewels that she wore, 
 
 More worth than all her tribe, had then been due 
 
 Unto our client : now, to cozen him 
 
 Of such a forfeit, see they bring the maid 
 
 In her most proper habit, bondslave like. 
 
 And they will save by th' hand ^ too. Please your 
 
 lordships, 
 I crave a sentence. 
 
 Virginius. Appius ! 
 
 Virginia. My lord! 
 
 I oil. Lord Appius! 
 
 Virginius. Now, by the gods, here's juggling ! 
 
 Num. Who cannot counterfeit a dead man's hand ? 210 
 
 Virginius. Or hire some villains to swear forgeries ? 
 
 Icil. Claudius was brought up in your house, my lord, 
 And that's suspicious. 
 
 Num. How is't probable, 
 
 That our wife being present at the childbirth, 
 Whom this did nearest concern, should ne'er reveal it ? 
 
 Virginius. Or if ours dealt thus cunningly, how haps 
 it 
 Her poHcy, as you term it, did not rather 
 Provide an issue male to cheer the father ? 
 
 Adv. I'll answer each particular. 
 
 Appius. It needs not ; 
 
 Here's witness, most sufficient witness. 220 
 
 Think you, my lord, our laws are writ in snow, 
 And that your breath can melt them ? 
 
 Virginius. No, my lord, 
 
 We have not such hot livers :° mark you that. 
 
 Virginia. Remember yet the gods, O Appius, 
 Who have no part in this ! Thy violent lust 
 Shall, Hke the biting of the envenomed aspic. 
 Steal thee to hell. So subtle are thy evils. 
 In fife they'll seem good angels, in death devils. 
 
314 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act n 
 
 Appius. Observe you not this scandal ? 
 
 Icil. Sir, 'tis none 
 
 I'll show thy letters full of violent lust 23c 
 
 Sent to this lady. 
 
 Appius. Wilt thou breathe a lie 
 
 'Fore such a reverend audience ? 
 
 Icil. That place 
 
 Is sanctuary to thee. Lie ! see here they are. 
 
 Appius. My lords, these are but dilatory shifts. 
 Sirrah, I know you to the very heart. 
 And I'll observe you. 
 
 Icil. Do, but do it with justice. 
 
 Clear thyself first, O Appius, ere thou judge 
 Our imperfections rashly ; for we wot 
 The office of a justice is perverted quite, 
 When one thief hangs another. 
 
 First Sen. You are too bold. i 
 
 Appius. Lictors, take charge of him. 
 
 [They seize IciLius. 
 
 Icil. 'Tis very good.i 
 
 Will no man view these papers ? What, not one ? 
 Jove, thou hast found a rival upon earth. 
 His nod strikes all men dumb. My duty to you. 
 The ass that carried Isis on his back. 
 Thought that the superstitious people kneeled 
 To give his dullness humble reverence : 
 If thou thinkest so, proud judge, I let thee see 
 I bend low to thy gown, but not to thee. 
 
 Virginius. There's one in hold already. Noble yguth, 
 Fetters grace one being worn for speaking truth : 251 
 
 I'll he with thee, I swear, though in a dungeon. 
 [To Appius.] The injuries you do us we shall pardon. 
 But it is just the wrongs which we forgive. 
 The gods are charged therewith to see revenged. 
 
 Appius. Come, y' are a proud plebeian." 
 
 Virginius. True, my lord : 
 
 Proud in the glory of my ancestors, 
 
SCENE I] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 315 
 
 Who have continued these eight hundred years : 
 The heralds have not known you these eight months. 
 
 Appius. Your madness wrongs you; by my soul, I 
 love you. 260 
 
 Virginius. Thy soul ! 
 0, thy opinion, old Pythagoras ! ° 
 Whither, O whither should thy black soul fly ? 
 Into what ravenous bird, or beast most vile ? 
 Only into a weeping crocodile. 
 Love me ! Thou lov'st me, Appius, as the earth loves 
 
 rain. 
 Thou fain wouldst swallow me. 
 
 Appius. Know^ you the place you speak in ? 
 
 Virginius. I'll speak freely. 
 
 Good men too much trusting their innocence 
 Do not betake them to that just defence 270 
 
 Which gods and nature gave them ; but even wink 
 In the black tempest, and so fondly sink. 
 
 Appius. Let us proceed to sentence. 
 
 Virginius. Ere you speak, 
 
 One parting farewell let me borrow of you 
 To take of my Virginia. 
 
 Appius. Now, my lords, 
 
 We shall have fair confession of the truth. 
 Pray take your course. 
 
 Virginius. Farewell, my sweet Virginia ; never, never, 
 Shall I taste fruit of the most blessed hope 
 I had in thee. Let me forget the thought 280 
 
 Of thy most pretty infancy : when first 
 Returning from the wars, I took delight 
 To rock thee in my target ; when my girl 
 Would kiss her father in his burganet 
 Of ghttering steel hung 'bout his armed neck ; 
 And, viewing the bright metal, smile to see 
 Another fair Virginia smile on thee : 
 When I first taught thee how to go, to speak : 
 And w^hen my w^ounds have smarted, I have sung 
 
3l6 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act i\] 
 
 With an unskilful, yet a willing voice, 29c 
 
 To bring my girl asleep. O my Virginia, 
 When we begun to be, begun our woes, 
 Increasing still, as dying hfe still grows ! 
 
 Appius. This tediousness does much offend the court. 
 Silence ! attend her sentence. ] 
 
 Virginius. Hold ! without sentence I'll resign her] 
 freely. 
 Since you will prove her to be none of mine. 
 
 Appius. See, see, how evidently truth appears. 
 Receive her, Claudius. 
 
 Virginius. Thus I surrender her into the court 300 
 
 [Kills her. 
 Of all the gods. And see, proud Appius, see. 
 Although not justly, I have made her free. 
 And if thy lust with this act be not fed. 
 Bury her in thy bowels now she's dead. 
 
 Onwes. O, horrid act ! 
 
 Appius. Lay hand upon the murderer ! 
 
 Virginius. O for a ring of pikes to circle me ! 
 What ! have I stood the brunt of thousand enemies 
 Here to be slain by hangmen ? No ; I'll fly 
 To safety in the camp. [Exit. 
 
 Appius. Some pursue the villain. 
 
 Others take up the body. Madness and rage 310 
 
 Are still th' attendants of old doting age. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene 11° 
 Enter two Soldiers 
 
 First Soldier. Is our hut swept clean ? 
 
 Second Soldier. As I can make it. 
 
 First Soldier. 'Tis betwixt us two ; 
 But how many, think'st thou, bred of Roman blood. 
 Did lodge with us last night ? 
 
SCENE II] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 317 
 
 Secoftd Soldier. More, I think, than the camp hath 
 enemies ; 
 They are not to be numbered. 
 
 First Soldier. Comrague, I fear 
 
 Appius will doom us to Actaeon's death, 
 To be worried by the cattle that we feed. 
 How goes the day ? 
 
 Second Soldier. My stomach has struck twelve. 
 
 First Soldier. Come, see what provant our knapsack 
 yields. 10 
 
 This is our store, our garner. 
 
 Second Soldier. A small pittance. 
 
 First Soldier. Feeds Appius thus? Is this a city 
 feast ? 
 This crust doth taste like date stones, and this thing, 
 If I knew what to call it — 
 
 Second Soldier. I can tell you : cheese struck in years. 
 
 First Soldier. I do not think but this same crust was 
 baked, 
 And this cheese frighted out of milk and whey, 
 Before we two were soldiers : though it be old, 
 I see't can crawl : what living things be these 
 That walk so freely 'tween the rind and pith ? 20 
 
 For here's no sap left. 
 
 Second Soldier. They call them gentles. 
 
 First Soldier. Therefore 'tis thought fit. 
 
 That soldiers, by profession gentlemen. 
 Should thus be fed with gentles. I am stomach sick ; 
 I must have some strong water. 
 
 Second Soldier. Where will you hav't ? 
 
 First Soldier. In yon green ditch, a place which none 
 can pass 
 But he must stop his nose ; thou know'st it well : 
 There where the two dead dogs lie. 
 
 Second Soldier. Yes, I know't. 
 
 First Soldier. And see the cat that lies a distance off 
 Be flayed for supper : though we dine to-day 3° 
 
3l8 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act 
 
 As Dutchmen feed their soldiers,^ we will sup 
 Bravely, like Roman leaguerers. 
 
 Second Soldier. Sir, the general. 
 
 First Soldier, We'll give him place : 
 But tell none of our dainties, lest we have 
 Too many guests to supper. [Exeunt 
 
 Enter Minutius with his Soldiers, reading a letter 
 
 Min. Most sure 'tis so, it cannot otherwise be. 
 Either Virginius is degenerate 
 From the ancient virtues he was wont to boast. 
 Or in some strange displeasure with the Senate ; 
 Why should these letters else from Appius 4c 
 
 Confine him a close prisoner to the camp ? 
 And, which confirms his guilt, why should he fly ? 
 Needs then must I incur some high displeasure 
 For neghgence, to let him thus escape ; 
 Which to excuse, and that it may appear 
 I have no hand with him, but am of faction 
 Opposed in all things to the least misdeed, 
 I will cashier him, and his tribuneship 
 Bestow upon some noble gentleman 
 Belonging to the camp. Soldiers and friends, so 
 
 You that beneath Virginius' colours marched. 
 By strict command from the Decemvirate, 
 We take you from the charge of him late fled. 
 And his authority, command, and honour. 
 We give this worthy Roman. Know his colours. 
 And prove his faithful soldiers. 
 
 Roman. Warlike general, 
 
 My courage and my forwardness in battle 
 Shall plead how well I can deserve the title. 
 To be a Roman tribune. 
 
 Enter a Soldier in haste 
 Min, Now, the news ? 
 
SCENE II] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 319 
 
 Soldier. Virginius, in a strange shape of distraction, 60 
 Enters the camp, and at his heels a legion 
 Of all estates, growths, ages, and degrees, 
 With breathless paces dog his frighted steps. 
 It seems half Rome's unpeopled with a train, 
 That either for some mischief done, pursue him, 
 Or to attend some uncouth novelty. 
 
 Min. Some wonder our fear promises. Worthy 
 soldiers. 
 Marshal yourselves, and entertain this novel 
 Within a ring of steel. Wall in this portent 
 With men and harness, be it ne'er so dreadful. 70 
 
 He's entered, by the clamour of the camp. 
 That entertains him with these echoing shouts. 
 Affection that in soldiers' hearts is bred, 
 Survives the wounded, and outlives the dead. 
 
 Enter Yirginivs, with his knife, that and his arms, stripped 
 up to the elbows, all bloody; coming into the midst of the 
 Soldiers, he makes a stand 
 
 Virginius. Have I in all this populous assembly 
 Of soldiers, that have proved Virginius' valour, 
 One friend ? Let him come thrill his partisan 
 Against this breast, that through a large wide wound 
 My mighty soul might rush out of this prison. 
 To fly more freely to yon crystal palace, 80 
 
 Where honour sits enthronised. What ! no friend ? 
 Can this great multitude, then, yield an enemy 
 That hates my hfe ? Here let him seize it freely. 
 What ! no man strike ? Am I so well beloved ? 
 Minutius, then to thee : if in this camp 
 There lives one man so just to punish sin, 
 So charitable to redeem from torments 
 A wretched soldier, at his worthy hand 
 I beg a death. 
 
 Min. What means Virginius ? 
 
 Virginius. Or if the general's heart be so obdure 9° 
 
320 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act i\'' 
 
 To an old begging soldier, have I here 
 No honest legionary of mine own troop, 
 At whose bold hand and sword, if not entreat, 
 I may command a death ? 
 
 First Soldier. Alas ! good captain. 
 
 Min. Virginius, you have no comand at all ! 
 Your companies are elsewhere now bestowed. 
 Besides, we have a charge to stay you here. 
 And make you the camp's prisoner. 
 
 Virginius. General, thanks: 
 
 For thou hast done as much with one harsh word 
 As I begged from their weapons ; thou hast killed me, i 
 But with a living death. 
 
 Min. Besides, I charge you 
 
 To speak what means this ugly face of blood," 
 You put on your distractions ? What's the reason 
 All Rome pursues you, covering those high hills. 
 As if they dogged you for some damned act ? 
 What have you done ? 
 
 Virginius. I have played the parricide ; 
 
 Killed mine own child. 
 
 Min. Virginia ! 
 
 Virginius. Yes, even she. 
 
 These rude hands ripped her, and her innocent blood 
 Flowed above my elbows. 
 
 Min. Killed her willingly ! 
 
 Virginius. Willingly, with advice, premeditation, i 
 And settled purpose ; and see still I wear 
 Her crimson colours, and these withered arms 
 Are dyed in her heart blood. 
 
 Min. Most wretched villain ! 
 
 Virginius. But how ? I loved her life. Lend me 
 amongst you 
 One speaking organ to discourse her death, 
 It is too harsh an imposition 
 To lay upon a father. O my Virginia ! 
 
 Min. How agrees this ? Love her, and murder her ! 
 
SCENE II] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 321 
 
 Virginius. Yes : give me but a little leave to drain 
 A few red tears, for soldiers should weep blood, 120 
 And I'll agree them well. Attend me all. 
 Alas ! might I have kept her chaste and free. 
 This life, so oft engaged for ingrateful Rome, 
 Lay in her bosom : but when I saw her pulled 
 By Appius' lictors to be claimed a slave, 
 And dragged into a public sessons-house. 
 Divorced from her fore-spousals with Icilius, 
 A noble youth, and made a bondwoman, 
 Enforced by violence from her father's arms 
 To be a prostitute and paramour 130 
 
 To the rude twinings of a lecherous judge ; 
 Then, then, O loving soldiers (I'll not deny it, 
 For 'twas mine honour, my paternal pity. 
 And the sole act, for which I love my life) ; 
 Then lustful Appius, he that sways the land, 
 Slew poor Virginia by this father's hand. 
 
 First Soldier. O villain Appius ! 
 
 Second Soldier. O noble Virginius ! 
 
 Virginius. To you I appeal, you are my sentencers : 
 Did Appius right, or poor Virginius wrong ? 140 
 
 Sentence my fact with a free general tongue.'^ 
 
 First Soldier. Appius is the parricide. 
 
 Second Soldier. Virginius guiltless of his daughter's death. 
 
 Min. If this be true, Virginius (as the moan 
 Of all the Roman fry that follows you 
 Confirms at large), this cause is to be pitied. 
 And should not die revengeless. 
 
 Virginius. Noble Minutius, 
 
 Thou hast a daughter, thou hast a wife too ; 
 So most of you have, soldiers ; why might not this 
 Have happened you? Which of you all, dear friends. 
 But now, even now, may have your wives deflowered. 
 Your daughters slaved, and made a lictor's prey? 152 
 Think them not safe in Rome, for mine lived there. 
 
 Roman. It is a common cause. 
 
322 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act iV 
 
 First Soldier. Appius shall die for't. 
 
 Second Soldier. Let's make Virginius general ! 
 
 Omnes. A general ! a general ! let's make Virginius 
 general ! 
 
 Min. It shall be so. Virginius, take my charge : 
 The wrongs are thine, so violent and so weighty, 
 That none but he that lost so fair a child, i6c 
 
 Knows how to punish. By the gods of Rome, 
 Virginius shall succeed my full command. 
 
 Virginius. What's honour unto me ? a weak old man^ 
 Weary of life, and covetous of a grave : 
 I am a dead man now Virginia lives not. 
 The selfsame hand that dared to save from shame 
 A child, dares in the father act the same. 
 
 [Ofers to kill himself. 
 
 First Soldier. Stay, noble general ! 
 
 Min. You much forget revenge, Virginius. 
 Who, if you die, will take your cause in hand, 17c 
 
 And proscribe Appius, should you perish thus ? 
 
 Virginius. Thou ought'st, Minutius: soldiers, so; 
 ought you. 
 I'm out of fear ; my noble wife's expired ; 
 My daughter, of blessed memory, the object 
 Of Appius' lust, lives 'mongst th' Elysian Vestals ; 
 My house yields none fit for his lictors' spoil. 
 You that have wives lodged in yon prison, Rome, 
 Have lands unrified, houses yet unseized, 
 Your freeborn daughters yet unstrumpeted. 
 Prevent these mischiefs yet while you have time. 180 
 
 First Soldier. We will by you, our noble general. 
 
 Second Soldier. He that was destined to preserve 
 great Rome. 
 
 Virginius. I accept your choice, in hope to guard 
 
 you all 
 
 From my inhuman sufferings. Be't my pride 
 
 That I have bred a daughter, whose chaste blood 
 
 Was spilt for you, and for Rome's lasting good. [Exeunty 
 
ACT THE FIFTH 
 Scene I'^ 
 
 Enter Oppius, a Senator, and the Advocate 
 
 0pp. Is Appius, then, committed ? 
 
 Sen. So 'tis rumoured. 
 
 0pp. How will you bear you in this turbulent state ? 
 You are a member of that wretched faction : 
 I wonder how you scape imprisonment. 
 
 Adv. Let me alone ; I have learnt with the wise hedge- 
 hog, 
 To stop my cave that way the tempest drives. 
 Never did bear-whelp tumbhng down a hill, 
 With more art shrink his head betwixt his claws, 
 Than I will work my safety. Appius 
 Is in the sand already up to th' chin, lo 
 
 And shall I hazard landing on that shelf ? 
 He's a wise friend that first befriends himself. 
 
 0pp. What is your course of safety ? 
 
 Adv. Marry, this: 
 
 Virginius, with his troops, is entering Rome, 
 And it is Hke that in the market-place 
 My lord Icilius and himself shall meet : 
 Now to encounter these, two such great armies, 
 Where Hes my court of guard ? ° 
 
 Sen. Why, in your heels : 
 
 There are strange dogs uncoupled. 
 
 Adv. You are deceived : 
 
 I have studied a most eloquent oration, 20 
 
 That shall applaud their fortune, and distaste 
 The cruelty of Appius. 
 
 Sen. Very good, sir : 
 
 It seems, then, you will rail upon your lord, 
 Your late good benefactor ? 
 
 323 
 
324 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act 
 
 Adv. By the way, sill 
 
 Sen, Protest Virginia was no bondwoman, 
 And read her noble pedigree ? 
 
 Adv. By the way, sir. 
 
 0pp. Could you not, by the way, too, find occasion 
 To beg lord Appius' lands ? 
 
 Adv. And by the way 
 
 Perchance I will ; for I will gull them all 
 Most palpably. 
 
 0pp. Indeed you have the art 3' 
 
 Of flattery. 
 
 Adv. Of rhetoric, you would say : 
 
 And I'll begin my smooth oration thus : 
 Most learned captains — 
 
 Sen. Fie, fie, that's horrible ! most of your captains 
 Are utterly unlearned. 
 
 Adv. Yet, I assure you, 
 Most of them know arithmetic so well. 
 That in a muster, to preserve dead pays,'^ 
 They'll make twelve stand for twenty. 
 
 0pp. Very good. 
 
 Adv. Then I proceed ; 4q 
 
 / do applaud your fortunes, and commend 
 In this your observation, jtoble shake-rags: 
 The helmet shall no more harbour the spider, 
 But it shall serve to carouse sack and cider. 
 The rest within I'll study. [Exit. 
 
 0pp. Farewell, Proteus, 
 
 And I shall wish thy eloquent bravado 
 May shield thee from the whip and bastinado. 
 Now in this furious tempest let us glide. 
 With folded sails, at pleasure of the tide. [Exeunt. 
 
fj SCENE II] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 325 
 
 Scene II" 
 
 Enter Icilius, Horatius, Valerius, Numitorius, at one 
 door, with Soldiers ; Virginius, Minutius, and others, 
 at the other door 
 
 Icil. Stand ! 
 
 Virginius. Make a stand ! ° 
 
 Icil. A parley with Virginius. 
 
 Min. We will not trust our general 'twixt the armies, 
 \\ But upon terms of hostage. 
 
 Num. Well advised : 
 Nor we our general. Who for the leaguer ? 
 
 Min. Ourself. 
 
 Virginius. Who for the city ? 
 
 Icil. Numitorius. 10 
 
 [Minutius and Numitorius meet, embrace, and 
 salute the generals. 
 
 Num. How is it with your sorrow, noble brother? 
 
 Virginius. I am forsaken of the gods, old man. 
 
 Num. Preach not that wretched doctrine to yourself, 
 It will beget despair. 
 
 Virginius. What do you call 
 
 A burning fever ? Is not that a devil ? 
 It shakes me like an earthquake. Wilt a', wilt a' ! ° 
 Give me some wine ? 
 
 Num. O, it is hurtful for you. 
 
 Virginius. Why so are all things that the appetite 
 Of man doth covet in his perfect'st health. 
 Whatever art or nature have invented, 20 
 
 To make the boundless wish of man contented, 
 Are all his poison. Give me the wine there : when ? ° 
 Do you grudge me a poor cup of drink ? Say, say. 
 Now by the gods, I'll leave enough behind me 
 To pay my debts ; and for the rest, no matter 
 Who scrambles for't. 
 
 Num. Here, my noble brother. 
 Alas ! your hand shakes : I will guide it to you. 
 
326 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act V 
 
 Virginius. 'Tis true, it trembles. Welcome, thou jusi 
 palsy ! 
 'Twere pity this should do me longer service. 
 Now it hath slain my daughter. So, I thank you : ° 
 Now I have lost all comforts in the world. 
 It seems I must a Httle longer live, 
 Be't but to serve my belly. 
 
 Min. O my lord, 
 
 This violent fever took him late last night : 
 Since when, the cruelty of the disease 
 Hath drawn him into sundry passions. 
 Beyond his wonted temper. 
 
 Icil. 'Tis the gods 
 
 Have poured their justice on him. 
 
 Virginius. You are sadly met, my lord. 
 
 Icil. Would we had met 4c 
 
 In a cold grave together two months since ! 
 I should not then have cursed you. 
 
 Virginius. Ha ! What's that r 
 
 Icil. Old man, thou hast showed thyself a noble 
 Roman, 
 But an unnatural father : thou hast turned 
 My bridal to a funeral. What devil 
 Did arm thy fury with the lion's paw, 
 The dragon's tail, with the bull's double horn, 
 The cormorant's beak, the cockatrice's eyes, 
 The scorpion's teeth, and all these by a father 
 To be employed upon his innocent child ? 5° 
 
 Virginius. Young man, I love thy true description : 
 I am happy now, that one beside myself 
 Doth teach me for this act. Yet, were I pleased, 
 I could approve the deed most just and noble ; 
 And, sure, posterity, which truly renders 
 To each man his desert, shall praise me for't. 
 
 Icil. Come, 'twas unnatural and damnable. 
 
 Virginius. You need not interrupt me : here's a fury 
 Will do it for you ! You are a Roman knight : 
 
SCENE II] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 327 
 
 What was your oath when you received your knight- 
 hood ? 60 
 A parcel of it is, as I remember, 
 Rather to die with honour, than to live 
 In servitude. Had my poor girl been ravished, 
 In her dishonour, and in my sad grief, 
 Your love and pity quickly had ta'en end. 
 Great men's misfortunes thus have ever stood, 
 They touch none nearly, but their nearest blood. 
 What do you mean to do ? It seems, my lord. 
 Now you have caught the sword within your hand. 
 Like a madman you'll draw it to offend 7° 
 Those that best love you ; and perhaps the counsel 
 Of some loose unthrifts, and vile malcontents 
 Hearten you to it : go to ! take your course. 
 My faction shall not give the least advantage 
 To murderers, to banquerouts, or thieves. 
 To fleece the commonwealth. 
 
 Icil. Do you term us so ? 
 
 Shall I reprove your rage, or is't your malice ? 
 
 I He that would tame a lion, doth not use 
 The goad or wired whip, but a sweet voice, 
 
 ; A fearful stroking, and with food in hand 80 
 
 I Must ply his wanton hunger. 
 
 Virginius. Want of sleep 
 
 Will do it better than all these, my lord. 
 I would not have you wake for others' ruin, 
 Lest you turn mad with watching. 
 
 Icil. O you gods ! 
 
 You are now a general ; learn to know your place, 
 And use your noble caUing modestly. 
 Better had Appius been an upright judge, 
 And yet an evil man, than honest man, 
 And yet a dissolute judge ; for all disgrace 
 Lights less upon the person than the place. 90 
 
 You are i' th' city now, where if you raise 
 But the least uproar, even your father's house 
 
328 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act 
 
 Shall not be free from ransack. Piteous fires 
 That chance in towers of stone are not so feared 
 As those that light in flax-shops ; for there's food 
 For eminent ruin. 
 
 Min. O my noble lord ! 
 
 Let not your passion bring a fatal end 
 To such a good beginning. All the world 
 Shall honour that deed in him which first 
 Grew to a reconcilement." 
 
 Icil. Come, my lord, lor 
 
 I love your friendship ; yes, in sooth, I do ; 
 But will not seal it with that bloody hand. 
 Join we our armies. No fantastic copy, 
 Or borrowed precedent will I assume 
 In my revenge. There's hope yet you may live 
 To outwear this sorrow. 
 
 Virginlus. 0, impossible ! 
 
 A minute's joy to me would quite cross nature, 
 As those that long have dwelt in noisome rooms, 
 Swoon presently if they but scent perfumes. 
 
 Icil. To th' Senate ! Come, no more of this sad tale 
 For such a tell-tale may we term our grief, n; 
 
 And doth as 'twere so Hsten to her own words — 
 En\dous of others' sleep, because she wakes — 
 I ever would converse with a grieved person 
 In a long journey to beguile the day, 
 Or winter evening to pass time away. 
 March on, and let proud Appius in our view. 
 Like a tree rotted, fall that way he grew. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III 
 Enter Appius and Marcus in prison, fettered and gyvea 
 
 Appius. The world is changed now. All damnations 
 Seize on the hydra-headed multitude, 
 
\ SCENE III] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 329 
 
 That only gape for innovation. 
 0, who would trust a people ! 
 
 Marcus. Nay, who would not, 
 
 Rather than one reared on a popular suffrage, 
 Whose station's built on avees° and applause ? 
 There's no firm structure on these airy bases. 
 0, fie upon such greatness ! 
 
 Appius. The same hands 
 
 That yesterday to hear me concionate. 
 And oratorize, rung shrill plaudits forth 10 
 
 In sign of grace, now in contempt and scorn 
 Hurry me to this place of darkness. 
 
 Marcus. Could not their poisons rather spend them- 
 selves 
 On th' judge's folly, but must it need stretch 
 To me his servant, and sweep me along ? 
 Curse on the inconstant rabble ! 
 
 Appius. Grieves it thee 
 
 To impart my sad disaster ? 
 
 Marcus. Marry doth it. 
 
 Appius. Thou shared'st a fortune with me in my 
 greatness ; 
 
 I haled thee after when I climbed my state ; 
 And shrink'st thou at my ruin ? 
 
 Marcus. I loved your greatness, 20 
 
 And would have traced you in the golden path 
 Of sweet promotion ; but this your decline 
 Sours all these hoped sweets. 
 
 Appius. 'Tis the world right :° 
 
 Such gratitude a great man still shall have 
 That trusts unto a temporizing slave. 
 
 Marcus. Slave ! good. Which of us two 
 In our dejection is basest ? I am most sure 
 Your loathsome dungeon is as dark as mine ; 
 Your conscience for a thousand sentences 
 ' Wrongly denounced, much more oppressed than mine ; 30 
 i Then which is the most slave ? 
 
330 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act ^ 
 
 Appius. O, double baseness, 
 
 To hear a drudge thus with his lord compare ! 
 Great men disgraced, slaves to their servants are. 
 
 Enter Virginius, Icilius, Minutius, Numitoeius, 
 HoRATius, Valerius, Oppius, with Soldiers 
 
 Virginius. Soldiers, keep a strong guard whilst we 
 survey 
 Our sentenced prisoners : and from this deep dungeon 
 Keep off that great concourse, whose violent hands 
 Would ruin this stone building, and drag hence 
 This impious judge, piecemeal to tear his limbs. 
 Before the law convince him. 
 
 Icil. See these monsters. 
 
 Whose fronts the fair Virginia's innocent blood 4c 
 
 Hath vizarded with such black ugliness, 
 That they are loathsome to all good men's souls. 
 Speak, damned judge ! how canst thou purge thyself 
 From lust and blood ? 
 
 Appius. I do confess myself 
 
 Guilty of both : yet hear me, noble Romans. 
 Virginius, thou dost but supply my place, 
 I thine : fortune hath lift to me my chair. 
 And thrown me headlong to thy pleading-bar. 
 If in mine eminence I was stern to thee, 
 Shunning my rigour, likewise shun my fall ; sc; 
 
 And being mild where I showed cruelty, 
 EstabUsh still thy greatness. Make some use 
 Of this my bondage. With indifference 
 Survey me, and compare my yesterday 
 With this sad hour, my height with my decline. 
 And give them equal balance. 
 
 Virginius. Uncertain fate ! but yesterday his breath 
 Awed Rome, and his least torved frown was death : 
 I cannot choose but pity and lament, 
 So high a rise should have such low descent. 6c 
 
SCENE III] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 331 
 
 Icil. [Aside.] He's ready to forget his injury: 
 too relenting age ! — Thinks not Virginius, 
 If he should pardon Appius this black deed, 
 And set him once more in the ivory chair, 
 He would be wary to avoid the like, 
 Become a new man, a more upright judge, 
 And deserve better of the common weal ? 
 
 Virginius. 'Tis like he would. 
 
 Icil. Nay, if you thus begin, 
 
 I'll fetch that [that] shall anatomize his sin.° [Exit. 
 
 Num. Virginius, you are too remiss to punish , 70 
 Deeds of this nature : you must fashion now 
 Your actions to your place, not to your passion : 
 Severity to such acts is as necessary 
 As pity to the tears of innocence. 
 
 Min. He speaks but law and justice. 
 Make good the streets with your best men at arms. 
 
 [A shout. 
 Valerius and Horatius, know the reason 
 Of this loud uproar, and confused noise. 
 
 [Exeunt Val. and HoR. 
 Although my heart be melting at the fall 
 Of men in place and office, we'll be just 80 
 
 To punish murd'rous acts, and censure lust. 
 
 Enter Valerius and Horatius 
 
 Val. Icilius, worthy lord, bears through the street 
 The body of Virginia towards this prison ; 
 Wliich when it was discovered to the people. 
 Moved such a mournful clamour, that their cries 
 Pierced Heaven, and forced tears from their sorrowing 
 eyes. 
 
 Hor. Here comes Icilius. 
 
 Enter Icilius with the body of Virginia 
 
 Icil. Where was the pity, when thou slewest this maid, 
 Thou would'st extend to Appius ? Pity ! See 
 
332 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act ^ 
 
 Her wounds still bleeding at the horrid presence 9< 
 
 Of yon stern murderer,^ till she find revenge ; 
 Nor will these drops stanch, or these springs be dry- 
 Till theirs be set a-bleeding. Shall her soul 
 (Whose essence some suppose hves in the blood), 
 Still labour without rest ? Will old Virginius 
 Murder her once again in this delay ? 
 
 Virginius. Pause there, Icilius. 
 This sight hath stiffened all my operant powers, 
 Iced all my blood, benumbed my motion'^ quite. 
 I'll pour my soul into my daughter's belly, io( 
 
 And with a soldier's tears embalm her wounds. 
 My only dear Virginia ! 
 
 Appius. Leave this passion ; 
 
 Proceed to your just sentence. 
 
 Virginius. We will. Give me two swords. Appius 
 grasp this ; 
 You, Claudius, that : you shall be your own hangmen ; ' 
 Do justice on yourselves. You made Virginius 
 Sluice his own blood, lodged in his daughter's breast, 
 Which your own hands shall act upon yourselves. 
 If you be Romans, and retain their spirits. 
 Redeem a base life with a noble death, m 
 
 And through your lust-burnt veins confine your breath 
 
 Appius. Virginius is a noble justicer: 
 Had I my crooked paths levelled by thine, 
 I had not swayed the balance. Think not, lords. 
 But he that had the spirit to oppose the gods, 
 Dares likewise suffer what their powers inflict. 
 I have not dreaded famine, fire, nor strage, * 
 
 Their common vengeance ; ^ poison in my cup, 
 Nor dagger in my bosom, the revenge 
 Of private men for private injuries ; 12c 
 
 Nay, more than these, not feared to commit evil. 
 And shall I tremble at the punishment ? ; 
 
 Now with as much resolved constancy. 
 As I offended, will I pay the mulct. 
 
SCENE III] APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 333 
 
 And this black stain laid on my family 
 
 (Than which a nobler hath not place in Rome), 
 
 Wash with my blood away. Learn of me, Claudius ; 
 
 I'll teach thee what thou never studied'st yet. 
 
 That's bravely how to die. Judges are termed 
 
 The gods on earth ; and such as are corrupt 130 
 
 Read me in this my ruin. Those that succeed me 
 
 That so offend, thus punish. This the sum of all, 
 
 Appius that sinned, by Appius' hand shall fall. 
 
 [Kills himself. 
 
 Virginius. He died as boldly as he basely erred. 
 And so should every true-bred Roman do.° 
 And he whose life was odious, thus expiring. 
 In his death forceth pity. Claudius, thou 
 Wast follower of his fortunes in his being, 
 Therefore in his not being imitate 
 His fair example. 
 
 Marcus. Death is terrible 14° 
 
 Unto a conscience that's oppressed with guilt. 
 They say there is Elysium and hell ; 
 The first I have forfeited, the latter fear : 
 My skin is not sword-proof. 
 
 Icil. Why dost thou pause ? 
 
 Marcus. For mercy: mercy, I entreat you all. 
 Is't not sufficient for Virginius' slain 
 That Appius suffered ? one of noble blood, 
 ^And eminence in place, for a plebeian ? 
 Besides, he was my lord, and might command me : 
 If I did aught, 'twas by compulsion, lords ; 1 50 
 
 And therefore I crave mercy. 
 
 Icil. Shall I doom him ? 
 
 Virginius. Do, good IciHus. 
 
 Icil. Then I sentence thus : 
 
 Thou hadst a mercy, most unmeriting slave. 
 Of which thy base birth was not capable. 
 Which we take off by taking thence thy sword. 
 And note the difference 'twixt a noble strain, 
 
334 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA [act 
 
 And one bred from the rabble : both ahke 
 
 Dared to transgress, but see their odds in death : 
 
 Appius died like a Roman gentleman, 
 
 And a man both ways knowing ; but this slave i6 
 
 Is only sensible of vicious living. 
 
 Not apprehensive of a noble death : 
 
 Therefore as a base malefactor, we. 
 
 And timorous slave, give him, as he deserves, 
 
 Unto the common hangman. 
 
 Marcus. What, no mercy ! 
 
 Icil. Stop's mouth : 
 Away with him ! The life of the Decemviri 
 Expires in them. Rome, thou at length art free, 
 Restored unto thine ancient liberty ! 
 
 Min. Of consuls ; which bold Junius Brutus first 17 
 Begun in Tarquin's fall. Virginius, you 
 And young Icilius shall his place succeed, 
 So by the people's suffrage 'tis decreed. 
 
 Virginius. We marshal then our soldiers in that nam 
 Of consuls, honoured with these golden bays. 
 Two fair, but ladies most infortunate. 
 Have in their ruins raised declining Rome, 1 
 
 Lucretia and Virginia, both renowned 
 For chastity. Soldiers and noble Romans, 
 To grace her death, whose life hath freed great Rome, 
 March with her corse to her sad funeral tomb ! 18 
 
 [Flourish. Exeum 
 
THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 
 
THE REVENGERS TRAGEDY. 
 
 The Revenger s Tragedy was first printed in 1607 and again 
 in the next year. Tourneur's name appears on neither of these 
 titles and his authorship is accepted rather than certain. The 
 source of the plot of this involved and intricate intrigue has not 
 been found. It is the arch-study which our drama affords of 
 the degeneracy of court life in the age of the Italian decadence. 
 Our very revulsion at its horrors and its wickedness is a tribute 
 to the realistic art of its powerful author. 
 
 337 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 The Duke. 
 
 LussuRioso, the Duke's Son. 
 
 Spurio, a Bastard. 
 
 Ambitioso, the Duchess' Eldest Son. 
 
 SUPERVACUO, the Duchess' Second Son. 
 
 The Duchess' Youngest Son. 
 
 Vendice, disguised as PiATO, ) ^ ,, c /-,o ,. 
 
 ' f „ , ^ i Brothers of Castiza. 
 
 HipPOLiTO, also called Carlo, ) 
 
 Antonio, ) ^, , , 
 ^ > Nobles. 
 
 PlERO, ) 
 
 DONDOLO. 
 
 Judges, Nobles, Gentlemen, Officers, Keeper, Servants. 
 
 The Duchess. 
 
 Castiza. 
 
 Gratiana, Mother of Castiza. 
 
 Scene — A City of Italy 
 
 338 
 
THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 
 
 ACT THE FIRST 
 
 Scene I 
 
 Near the House of Gratiana 
 
 Enter Vendice.° The Duke, Duchess, Lussxirioso, 
 Spiirio, with a train, pass over the stage with torch-light 
 
 Ven. Duke I royal lecher ! go, grey-haired adultery 
 And thou his son, as impious steeped as he : 
 And thou his bastard, true begot in evil : 
 And thou his duchess, that Tvill do with de\dl "^ 
 Four excellent characters I O, that marrowless age 
 Should stuff the hollow bones with damned desires ! 
 And, 'stead of heat, kindle infernal fires 
 Within the spendthrift veins of a dry duke, 
 A parched and juiceless luxur. O God ! one. 
 That has scarce blood enough to live upon ; lo 
 
 And he to riot it, like a son and heir ! 
 O, the thought of that 
 Turns my abused heart-strings into fret.° 
 Thou sallow picture of my poisoned love, 
 
 [Views the skull in his hand. 
 My study's ornament, thou shell of death. 
 Once the bright face of my betrothed lady, 
 When life and beauty naturally filled out 
 These ragged imperfections ; 
 When two heaven-pointed diamonds were set 
 
 339 
 
340 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act 
 
 In those unsightly rings — then 'twas a lace 2 
 
 So far beyond the artiticial shine 
 
 Of any woman's bought complexion, 
 
 That the uprightest man (if such there be, 
 
 That sin but seven times a day) " broke custom, 
 
 And made up eight with looking after her. 
 
 O, she was able to ha' made a usurer's son 
 
 Melt all his patrimony in a kiss ; 
 
 And what his father lifty years told, 
 
 To have consumed, and yet liis suit been cold. 
 
 But, O accursed palace! 3,< 
 
 Thee, when tliou wert apparelled in thy tiesh, 
 
 The old duke poisoned. 
 
 Because thy purer part would not consent 
 
 Unto his palsied lust ; for old men lustful 
 
 Do show like young men angry, eager, violent, 
 
 Outbidden " like their limited performances. 
 
 O, 'ware an old man hot and vicious ! 
 
 "Age, as in gold, in lust is covetous." 
 
 Vengeance, thou murder's quit-rent, and whereby 
 
 Thou show'st thyself tenant to tragedy ; 4 
 
 O keep thy day, hour, minute, I beseech. 
 
 For those thou hast determined. Hum ! who e'er knew 
 
 JMurder unpaid ? faith, give revenge her due, 
 
 She has kept touch" hitherto : be merry, merry. 
 
 Advance thee, O thou terror to fat folks. 
 
 To have their costly three-piled flesh " worn off 
 
 As bare as this ; for banquets, ease, and laughter 
 
 Can make great men, as greatness goes by clay ; 
 
 But ^^'ise men little are more great than they. 
 
 Enter Hippolito 
 
 Hip. Still sighing o'er death's \'izard ? 
 TV;/. Brother, welcome :i 
 
 What comfort bring'st thou ? how go things at court ? 5^\ 
 Hip. In silk and silver, brother : never braver. 
 
' SCEMW] THE KEVENGER\S TRAGEDY 34 1 
 
 Ven. Pooh ! 
 
 Thou play'st upon my meaning. Prithee, say, 
 Has that bald madam, Opportunity," 
 Yet thought ui)on's ? s[)eak, are we happy yet ? 
 Thy wrongs and mine are for one scabbard fit. 
 
 Ilip. It may prove happiness. 
 
 Ven. What is't may prove ? 
 
 Give me to taste. 
 
 Hip. Give me your hearing, then. 
 
 You know my place at court ? 
 
 Ven. Aye, the duke's chamber ! 
 
 But 'tis a marvel thou'rt not turned out yet ! ^^o 
 
 Ilip. Faith, I've been shoved at ; but 'twas still my hap 
 To hold by the duchess' skirt : you guess at that : 
 Whom such a coat" keeps up, can ne'er fall flat. 
 But to the purpose — 
 Last evening, predecessor unto this. 
 The duke's son warily inquired for me, 
 Whose pleasure I attended : he began 
 By policy to open and unhusk me 
 About the time and common rumour : 
 But I had so much wit to keep my thoughts 7° 
 
 Up in their built houses ; yet afforded him 
 An idle satisfaction without danger. 
 But the whole aim and scope of his intent 
 Ended in this : conjuring me in private 
 To seek some strange-digested fellow " forth, 
 Of ill-contented nature ; either disgraced 
 In former times, or by new grooms displaced, 
 Since his stepmother's nuptials ; such a blood, 
 A man that were for evil only good — 
 To give you the true word, some base-coined pander. 80 
 
 Ven. I reach you ; for I know his heat is such, 
 Were there as many concubines as ladies. 
 He would not be contained ; he must fly out. 
 I wonder how ill-featured, vile-proportioned, 
 That one should be, if she were made for woman. 
 
34- THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [aci 
 
 Whom, at the insiirroclion of his Uist, 
 Uo would refuse for once. Heart I I tliink none. 
 Next to a skull, though more unsound than one, 
 Each face he meets he strongly dotes upon. 
 
 ////>. Brother, y' have truly spoke hin\. oc 
 
 He knows not you, but I will swear you know him. 
 
 TV«. And therefore I'll put on that knave for once, 
 And be a right man then, a mail o' tlie time ; 
 For to be honest is not to be i" the world. 
 Brother, I'll be that strange-com^x^sed fellow. 
 
 Hip. And 111 prefer you. brother. 
 
 Yen. Go to, then: 
 
 The smallest ad\'antage fattens wR^nged men : 
 It may point out Occasion : if I meet heiu 
 I'll hold her by the foretop" f;ist enough ; 
 Or, like the French mole, heave up h;iir and all. loo 
 
 I have a habit that will fit it quaintly. 
 Here comes our mother. 
 
 ^f^. And sister. 
 
 TVw. We must coin : 
 
 Women are apt, you know, to take false money ; ° 
 But I dare stake my soul for these two creatures ; 
 Only excuse excepted, that they'll swallow, 
 Because their sex is easy in belief. 
 
 Enter Grati-\xa and Castiza 
 
 Gra. \Miat news from court, son Carlo ? 
 
 Hip. Faith, mother, 
 
 'Tis whispered there the duchess' youngest son 
 Has played a rape on lord Antonio's wife. 
 
 Gra. On that rehgious lady I "o 
 
 Cj>!r. Royal blood monster ! he deserves to die. 
 If Italy had no more hopes but he. 
 
 Yen. Sister, y' have sentenced most direct and true, 
 The law's a woman ,° and would she were you. 
 Mother, I must take leave of you. 
 
L 
 
 SCENE II] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 343 
 
 Gra. Leave for what ? 
 
 Few. I intend speedy travel. 
 
 //z7>. That he does, madam. # 
 
 6></. Speedy indeed ! 
 
 Ke». For since my worthy father's funeral, 
 My h'fe's unnaturally U) me, e'en a>m[x:lled ; 
 As if I lived now, when I should be dead. 120 
 
 Gra. Indeed, he was a worthy gentleman, 
 Harl his estate Fx^n fellow to his mind. 
 
 Ven. The duke did much deject him. 
 
 Gra. Much ? 
 
 Ven. Too much : 
 
 And though disgrace oft smothered in his spirit. 
 When it would mount, surely I think he died 
 Of discontent, the noble man's consumption. 
 
 Gra. Most sure he did. 
 
 Ven. Did he. Tack ? you know all : — 
 
 You were his midnight secretary. 
 
 Gra. Xo. 
 
 He was too vi\st to trust me with his thoughts. 
 
 Ven. I' faith, then, father, thou wast wise indeed ; 130 
 *' Wives are but made to go to l^>ed and (eed.^^ 
 Come, mother, sister : you'll bring me onward, brother ? 
 
 Hip. I will. 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] Ill quickly turn into another. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II 
 
 A Hall of Justice 
 
 Enter the Duke, Lussurioso, the Duchess, Spurio, 
 Ambitioso, and Supervacuo; the Duchess' Young- 
 est Son brought out by Officers. Two Judges 
 
 Duke. Duchess, it is your youngest son, we're sorr\' 
 His violent act has e'en drawn blood of honour, 
 
344 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act i 
 
 And stained our honours ; 
 
 Thrown ink upon the forehead of our state ; 
 
 Which envious spirits will dip their pens into 
 
 After our death ; and blot us in our tombs : 
 
 For that which would seem treason in our lives 
 
 Is laughter, when we're dead. Who dares now whisper,' 
 
 That dares not then speak out, and e'en proclaim 
 
 With loud words and broad pens our closest shame ? lo 
 
 ist Judge. Your grace hath spoke like to your silvei^ 
 years. 
 Full of confirmed gravity ; for what is it to have 
 A flattering false insculption on a tomb. 
 And in men's hearts reproach ? the bowelled corpse 
 May be seared in, but (with free tongue I speak) 
 The faults of great men through their cere-cloths 
 break. 
 
 Duke. They do ; we're sorry for't : it is our fate 
 To live in fear, and die to live in hate. 
 I leave him to your sentence ; doom him, lords — 
 The fact is great — whilst I sit by and sigh. 20 
 
 Duch. My gracious lord, I pray be merciful : | 
 
 Although his trespass far exceed his years, 
 Think him to be your own, as I am yours ; 
 Call him not son-in-law : the law, I fear, 
 Will fall too soon upon his name and him : 
 Temper his fault with pity. 
 
 Lus. Good my lord, i 
 
 Then 'twill not taste so bitter and unpleasant \ 
 
 Upon the judges' palate ; for offences, \ \ 
 
 Gilt o'er with mercy, show like fairest women, 
 Good only for their beauties, which washed off, 3° 
 
 No sin is uglier. v 
 
 Amb. I beseech your grace, j 
 
 Be soft and mild ; let not relentless law 
 Look with an iron forehead on our brother. 
 
 Spu. [Aside.] He 3delds small comfort yet; hope he ^^ 
 shall die ; jj 
 
SCENE II] THE REVENGER^S TRAGEDY 345 
 
 And if a bastard's wish might stand in force, 
 Would all the court were turned into a corse ! 
 
 Duch. No pity yet ? must I rise fruitless then ? 
 A wonder in a woman ! are my knees 
 Of such low metal, that without respect — 
 
 1st Judge. Let the offender stand forth : 40 
 
 Tis the duke's pleasure that impartial doom 
 Shall take fast hold of his unclean attempt. 
 A rape ! why 'tis the very core of lust — 
 Double adultery. 
 
 y. Son. So, sir.° 
 
 2nd JudgQ. And which was worse. 
 
 Committed on the lord Antonio's wife, 
 That general-honest lady. Confess, my lord, 
 What moved you to't ? 
 
 Y. Son. Why, flesh and blood, my lord ; 
 
 What should move men unto a woman else ? 
 
 Lhs. O, do not jest thy doom ! trust not an ax 
 Or sword too far : the law is a wise serpent, . 50 
 
 And quickly can beguile thee of thy life. 
 Though marriage only has made thee my brother, 
 I love thee so far : play not with thy death. 
 
 I". Son. I thank you, troth ; . good admonitions, faith, 
 If I'd the grace now to make use of them. 
 
 ist Judge. That lady's name ^ has spread such a fair 
 wing 
 
 Over all Italy, that if our tongues 
 Were sparing toward the fact, judgement itself 
 Would be condemned, and suffer in men's thoughts. 
 
 Y. Son. Well then, 'tis done ; and it would please me 
 well, 60 
 
 W^ere it to do again : sure, she's a goddess. 
 For I'd no power to see her, and to live. 
 It falls out true in this, for I must die ; 
 Her beauty was ordained to be my scaffold. 
 And yet, methinks, I might be easier 'sessed : ° 
 My fault being sport, let me but die in jest. 
 
346 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act i 
 
 ist Judge. This be the sentence — 
 
 Duch. O, keep't upon your tongue ; let it not slip ; 
 Death too soon steals out of a lawyer's lip. 
 Be not so cruel- wise ! 
 
 ist Judge. Your grace must pardon us ; 70 
 
 'Tis but the justice of the law. 
 
 Duch. The law 
 
 Is grown more subtle than a woman should be. 
 
 Spu. [Aside.] Now, now he dies ! rid 'em away. 
 
 Duch. [Aside.] O, what it is to have an old cool duke, 
 To be as slack in tongue as in performance ! ^ 
 
 ist Judge. Confirmed, this be the doom irrevocable. 
 
 Duch. O! 
 
 15/ Judge. To-morrow early — 
 
 Duch. Pray be abed, my lord. 
 
 1st Judge. Your grace much wrongs yourself. 
 
 Amb. No, 'tis that tongue : 
 
 Your too much right does do us too much wrong. So 
 
 15/ Judge. Let that offender — 
 
 Duch. Live, and be in health. 
 
 1st Judge. Be on a scaffold — 
 
 Duke. Hold, hold, my lord ! 
 
 Spu. [Aside.] Pox on't, 
 What makes my dad speak now ? 
 
 Duke. We will defer the judgement till next sitting : 
 In the meantime, let him be kept close prisoner. 
 Guard, bear him hence. 
 
 Amh. [Aside.] Brother, this makes for thee ; 
 
 Fear not, we'll have a trick to set thee free. j 
 
 Y. Son. [Aside.] Brother, I will expect it from youii 
 both; 
 And in that hope I rest. 
 
 Sup. Farewell, be merry. 9° 
 
 [Exit with a Guard. 
 
 Spu. Delayed ! deferred ! nay then, if judgement have 
 cold blood. 
 Flattery and bribes will kill it. 
 
ENEii] THE REVENGER^S TRAGEDY 347 
 
 Dtike. About it, then, my lords, with your best pow- 
 ers : 
 More serious business calls upon our hours. 
 
 [Exeunt, excepting the Duchess. 
 
 Duch. Was't ever known step-duchess was so mild 
 And calm as I ? some now would plot his death 
 With easy doctors," those loose-Uving men, 
 And make his mthered grace fall to his grave, 
 And keep church better." 
 
 Some second wife ° would do this, and dispatch 100 
 
 Her double-loathed lord at meat or sleep. 
 Indeed, 'tis true, an old man's twice a child ; 
 Mine cannot speak ; one of his single words 
 Would quite have freed my youngest dearest son 
 From death or durance, and have made him walk 
 With a bold foot upon the thorny law, 
 Wliose prickles should bow under him ; but 'tis not, 
 And therefore wedlock-faith shall be forgot : 
 I'll kill himi in his forehead ; " hate, there feed ; 
 That wound is deepest, though it never bleed. no 
 
 And here comes he whom my heart points unto, 
 His bastard son, but my love's true-begot ; 
 Many a wealthy letter have I sent him. 
 Swelled up with jewels, and the timorous man 
 Is yet but coldly land. 
 That jewel's mine that quivers in his ear," 
 Mocking his master's chillness and vain fear. 
 He has spied me now ! 
 
 Enter Spurio 
 
 Spu. Madam, your grace so private ? 
 
 My duty on your hand. 
 
 Duch. Upon my hand, sir ! troth, I think you'd fear 
 To kiss my hand too, if my lip stood there. 121 
 
 Spu. Witness I would not, madam. [Kisses her. 
 
 Duch. 'Tis a wonder ; 
 
348 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act] 
 
 For ceremony has made many fools ! 
 
 It is as easy way unto a duchess, 
 
 As to a hatted dame," if her love answer : 
 
 But thaf^ by timorous honours, pale respects, 
 
 Idle degrees of fear, men make their ways 
 
 Hard of themselves. What, have you thought of me ? 
 
 Spu. Madam, I ever think of you in duty. 
 Regard, and — 
 
 Duch. Pooh ! upon my love, I mean. 13c 
 
 Spu. I would 'twere love ; but 'tis a fouler name 
 Than lust : you are my father's wife — your grace may 
 
 guess now 
 What I could call it. 
 
 Duch. Why, th' art his son but falsely ; 
 
 'Tis a hard question whether he begot thee. 
 
 Spu. V faith, 'tis true : I'm an uncertain man 
 Of more uncertain woman. Maybe, his groom 
 O' the stable begot me ; you know I know not ! 
 He could ride a horse well, a shrewd suspicion, marry ! — 
 He was wondrous tall : he had his length, i' faith. 
 For peeping over half-shut holiday windows,'^ 14° 
 
 Men would desire him light. When he was afoot 
 He made a goodly show under a penthouse ; 
 And when he rid, his hat would check the signs, 
 And clatter barbers' basins."" 
 
 Duch. Nay, set you a-horseback once. 
 You'll ne'er light off .° 
 
 Spu. Indeed, I am a beggar. 
 
 Duch. That's the more sign thou'rt great. — 
 But to our love : 
 
 Let it stand firm both in thy thought and mind, 
 That the duke was thy father, as no doubt ° then 150 
 
 He bid fair for't — thy injury is the more ; 
 For had he cut thee a right diamond. 
 Thou had'st been next set in the dukedom's ring. 
 When his worn self, like age's easy slave. 
 Had dropped out of the collet "" into th' grave. 
 
SCENE II] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 349 
 
 What wrong can equal this ? canst thou be tame, 
 And think upon't ? 
 
 Spu. No, mad, and think upon't. 
 
 Duch. Who would not be revenged of such a father, 
 E'en in the worst way ? I would thank that sin. 
 That could most injure him, and be in league with it. 160 
 O, what a grief 'tis that a man should live 
 But once i' the world, and then to live a bastard — 
 The curse* o' the womb, the thief of nature, 
 Begot against the seventh commandment, 
 Half-damned in the conception by the justice 
 Of that unbribed everlasting law. 
 
 Spu. O, I'd a hot-backed devil to my father. 
 
 Duch. Would not this mad e'en patience, make blood 
 rough ? ° 
 Who but an eunuch would not sin ? his bed, 
 By one false minute disinherited. 170 
 
 Spu. Aye, there's the vengeance that my birth was 
 wrapped in ! 
 I'll be revenged for all : now, hate, begin ; 
 I'll call foul incest but a venial sin. 
 
 Duch. Cold still ! in vain then must a duchess woo ? 
 
 Spu. Madam, I blush to say what I mil do. 
 
 Duck. Thence flew sweet comfort. Earnest, and 
 farewell. ° [Kisses him. 
 
 Spu. O, one incestuous kiss picks open hell. 
 
 Duch. Faith, now, old duke, my vengeance shall 
 reach high, 
 I'll arm thy brow with woman's heraldry. ° [Exit. 
 
 Spu. Duke, thou didst do me wrong ; and, by thy act 
 Adultery is my nature. 181 
 
 Faith, if the truth were known, I was begot 
 After some gluttonous dinner ; some stirring dish 
 Was my first father, when deep healths went round. 
 And ladies' cheeks were painted red with wine, 
 Their tongues, as short and nimble as their heels. 
 Uttering words sweet and thick ; and when they rose, 
 
350 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act 
 
 Were merrily disposed to fall again. 
 
 In such a whispering and withdrawing hour, 
 
 When base male-bawds kept sentinel at stair-head, i9« 
 
 Was I stol'n softly. O damnation meet ! 
 
 The sin of feasts, drunken adultery ! 
 
 I feel it swell me ; my revenge is just ! 
 
 I was begot in impudent wine and lust. 
 
 Stepmother, I consent to thy desires ; 
 
 I love thy mischief well ; but I hate thee 
 
 And those three cubs thy sons, washing confusion, 
 
 Death and disgrace may be their epitaphs. 
 
 As for my brother, the duke's only son, 
 
 Whose birth is more beholding to report ° 20c 
 
 Than mine, and yet perhaps as falsely sown 
 
 (Women must not be trusted with their own), 
 
 I'll loose my days upon him, hate-all-I ; 
 
 Duke, on thy brow I'll draw my bastardy : 
 
 For indeed a bastard by nature should make cuckolds, 
 
 Because he is the son of a cuckold-maker. [Exit 
 
 Scene III 
 
 A Part of the City 
 
 Enter Vendice in disguise and Hippolito 
 
 Ven. What, brother, am I far enough from myself ? 
 
 Hip. As if another man had been sent whole 
 Into the world, and none ^^^st how he came. 
 
 Ven. It will confirm me bold — the chiM o' the court ; 
 Let blushes dwell i' the country. Impudence ! 
 Thou goddess of the palace, mistress of mistresses, 
 To whom the costly perfumed people pray. 
 Strike thou my forehead into dauntless marble, 
 Mine eyes to steady sapphires. Turn my visage ; 
 And, if I must needs glow, let me blush inward. 
 That this immodest season may not spy 
 
SCENE III] THE REVENGERS TRAGEDY 35 1 
 
 That scholar " in my cheeks, fool bashfulness ; 
 That maid in the old time, whose flush of grace 
 Would never suffer her to get good clothes. 
 Our maids are wiser, and are less ashamed ; 
 Save Grace the bawd,° I seldom hear grace named ! 
 
 Hip. Nay, brother, you reach out o' the verge now" — 
 *Sfoot, the duke's son ! settle your looks. 
 
 Ven. Pray, let me not be doubted. 
 
 Hip. My lord — 
 
 Enter Lussurioso 
 
 Lus. Hippohto — be absent, leave us ! 20 
 
 Hip. My lord, after long search, wary inquiries, 
 And pohtic siftings, I made choice of yon fellow, 
 Whom I guess rare for many deep employments : 
 This our age swims within him ; and if Time 
 Had so much air, I should take him for Time," 
 He is so near kin to this present minute. 
 
 Lus. 'Tis enough ; 
 We thank thee : yet words are but great men's blanks ; 
 Gold, though it be dumb, does utter the best thanks. 
 
 [Gives him money. 
 
 Hip. Your plenteous honour 1 an excellent fellow, 
 my lord. 30 
 
 Lus. So, give us leave. [Exit Hippolito.] Welcome, 
 be not far off ; w^e must be better acquainted : pish, be 
 bold with us — thy hand. 
 
 Ven. With all my heart, i' faith: how dost, sweet 
 musk-cat ? 
 When shall we lie together ? 
 
 Lus. [Aside.] W^ondrous knave, 
 
 Gather him into boldness ! ^ 'sfoot, the slave's 
 Already as famihar as an ague. 
 And shakes me ° at his pleasure. — Friend, I can 
 Forget myself in private ; but elsewhere 
 I pray do you remember me. 
 
352 THE REVENGERS TRAGEDY [act: 
 
 Vcft. O, ven- well, sir — 
 
 I conster myself saucy. 
 
 Lus. WTiat hast been ? 41 
 
 Of what profession ? 
 
 TV;:. A bone-setter. 
 
 Lus. A bone-setter I 
 
 IV;:. A bawd, my lord — 
 
 One that sets bones together. 
 
 Lus. Notable blimtness ! 
 
 Fit. fit for me ; e'en trained up to my hand : 
 Thou hast been scrivener to much knaver}*, then ? 
 
 Ven. 'Sfoot. to abundance, sir : I have been witness 
 To the surrenders of a thousand \'irgins : 
 And not so httle ; ° 
 
 I have seen patrimonies washed a-pieces,° 50J j 
 
 Fruit-fields turned into bastards, ' ■ 
 
 And in a world of acres 
 
 Xot so much dust due to the heir 'twas left to 
 As would well gravel a petition.^ 
 
 Lus. [Aside.] Fine \illain ! troth, I like him won- 
 drously : 
 He's e'en shaped for my purpose. — Then thou know'st 
 I' th' world strange lust ? 
 
 Ven. O Dutch lust I fulsome lust ! 
 
 Drunken procreation I which begets 
 So many drunkards. Some fathers dread not 
 (Gone to bed in wine) to sHde from the mother, 60 
 And chng the daughter-in-law ; 
 Some uncles are adulterous with their nieces : 
 Brothers with brothers" wives. O hour of incest ! 
 Any kin now, next to the rim o' th' sister. 
 Is men's meat in these days : and in the morning. 
 When they are up and dressed, and their mask on. 
 Who can perceive this, save that eternal eye, 
 That sees through flesh and all ? Well, if an>lhing be 
 
 damned. 
 It will be twelve o'clock at night ; that twelve 
 
SCENE III] THE REVENGERS TRAGEDY 353 
 
 Will never scape ; ' 70 
 
 It is the Judas of the hours, wherein 
 Honest salvation is betrayed to sin. 
 
 Liis. In troth, it is true ; but let this talk gUde. 
 It is our blood to err, though hell gape wide. 
 Ladies know Lucifer fell, yet still are proud. 
 Now, sir, wert thou as secret as thou'rt subtle, 
 And deeply fathomed into all estates,^ 
 I would embrace thee for a near emplojnnent ; 
 And thou shouldst swell in money, and be able 
 To make lame beggars crouch to thee. 
 
 Veil. My lord, 80 
 
 Secret ! I ne'er had that disease o' the mother, 
 I praise my father : why are men made close. 
 But to keep thoughts in best ? I grant you this, 
 Tell but some women a secret over night. 
 Your doctor may find it in the urinal i' the morning. 
 But, my lord — 
 
 Lus. So thou'rt confirmed in me, 
 
 And thus I enter thee.° [Gives kirn money. 
 
 Ven. This Indian de\'il'^ 
 
 Will quickly enter any man but a usurer ; 
 He prevents that by entering the de\il first. 
 
 Lus. Attend me. I am past my depth in lust, 90 
 
 And I must swim or drown. All my desires 
 Are levelled at a \Trgin not far from court, 
 To whom I have conveyed by messenger 
 Many waxed lines," full of my neatest spirit, 
 And jewels that were able to ra\-ish her 
 Without the help of man ; all which and more 
 She (foolish chaste) sent back, the messengers 
 Recei\-ing frowns for answers. 
 
 Ven. Possible ! 
 
 'Tis a rare Phcemx,° whoe'er she be. 
 
 If your desires be such, she so repugnant, 100 
 
 In troth, my lord, I'd be revenged and marr}* her. 
 
 Lus. Pish I the do\sT\' of her blood and of her fortunes 
 
354 THE REVENGER-S TRAGEDY [act i 
 
 Are both too mean — good enough to be bad withal. 
 I'm one of that number can defend 
 ]\Iarriage is good ; ° yet rather keep a friend. 
 Give me my bed by stealth — there's true dehght ; 
 What breeds a loathing in't, but night by night ! 
 
 Yen. A very fine rehgion ! 
 
 Lus. Therefore thus 
 
 I'll trust thee in the business of my heart ; 
 Because I see thee well-experienced no 
 
 In this luxurious day wherein we breathe. 
 Go thou, and with a smooth enchanting tongue 
 Bewitch her ears, and cozen her of all grace : 
 Enter upon the portion of her soul — 
 Her honour, which she calls her chastity,^ 
 And bring it into expense ; ° for honesty 
 Is Hke a stock of money laid to sleep ° 
 WTiich, ne'er so Uttle broke, does never keep. 
 
 Ven. You have gi'en't the tang,° i' faith, my lord : 
 ^lake known the lady to me, and my brain i 
 
 Shall swell with strange invention : I "wiU move it, 
 Till I expire \^'ith speaking, and drop down 
 Without a word to save me — but I'll work — 
 
 Lus. We thank thee, and will raise thee. — 
 Receive her name : it is the only daughter to ^ladam 
 Gratiana, the late widow. 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] O my sister, my sister ! 
 
 Lus. Why dost walk aside ? 
 
 Ven. 'My lord, I was thinking how I might begin : 
 As thus, O lady — or twenty hundred de\ices — 
 Her ver}' bodkin wiW put a man in.° 130 
 
 Lus. Aye, or the wagging of her hair. 
 
 Ven. No, that shall put you in, my lord. 
 
 Lus. Shairt ? why, content. Dost know the daughter 
 then? 
 
 Ven. O, excellent well by sight. 
 
 Lus. That was her brother, 
 
 That did prefer thee to us. 
 
SCENE III] THE REVENGERS TRAGEDY 355 
 
 Ve?i. My lord, I think so ; 
 
 I knew I had seen him somewhere — 
 
 Lus. And therefore, prythee, let thy heart to him 
 Be as a virgin close. 
 
 Ven. O my good lord. 
 
 Lus. We may laugh at that simple age within him. 
 
 \'en. ^a, ha, ha I 140 
 
 Lus. Himself being made the subtle instrument, 
 To wind up a good fellow. 
 
 Ven. That's I, my lord. 
 
 Lus. That's thou, 
 
 To entice and work his sister. 
 
 Ven. A pure novice ! 
 
 Lus. 'Twas finely managed. 
 
 Ven. Gallantly carried ! 
 
 A pretty perfumed villain ! 
 
 Lus. I've bethought me, 
 
 If she prove chaste still and immovable, 
 Venture upon the mother ; and with gifts. 
 As I will furnish thee, begin with her. 
 
 ]'en. O, fie, fie I that's the wrong end my lord. 
 'Tis mere impossible that a mother, by any gifts, should 
 become a bawd to her owti daughter ! 151 
 
 Lus. Xay, then, I see thou'rt but a puisne 
 In the subtle mv'sterv' of a woman."^ 
 WTiy, 'tis held now no dainty dish : the name 
 Is so in league with the age, that nowadays 
 It does echpse three quarters of a mother. 
 
 Ven. Does it so, my lord ? 
 Let me alone, then, to echpse the fourth. 
 
 Lus. WTiy, well said — come, I'll furnish thee, but 
 first 
 Swear to be true in all. 
 
 Ven. True I 
 
 Lus. Nay, but swear. 
 
 Ven. Swear? — 160 
 
 I hope your honour Httle doubts my faith. 
 
356 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act 
 
 Lus. Yet, for my humour's sake, 'cause I love sweai 
 ing — 
 
 Ven. 'Cause you love swearing, — 'slud, I will. 
 
 Lus. Why, enough 
 
 Ere long look to be made of better stuff. 
 
 Ven. That will do well indeed, my lord. 
 
 Lus. Attend me. [Exi 
 
 Ven. O 
 
 Now let me burst. I've eaten noble poison ; 
 We are made strange fellows, brother, innocent villains 
 Wilt not be angry, when thou hear'st on't, think's' 
 
 thou? 
 I' faith, thou shalt : swear me to foul my sister ! 
 Sword, I durst make a promise of him to thee ; i7„ 
 
 Thou shalt disheir him ; it shall be thine honour. j 
 
 And yet, now angry froth is down in me. 
 It would not prove the meanest policy, 
 In this disguise, to try the faith of both. I 
 
 Another might have had the selfsame office ; 
 Some slave that would have wrought effectually, 
 Aye, and perhaps o'erwrought 'em ; therefore I, 
 Being thought-travelled, will apply myself 
 Unto the selfsame form, forget my nature, 
 As if no part about me were kin to 'em, i^ 
 
 So touch em ; — though I durst almost for good 
 Venture my lands in Heaven upon their blood. [Exi 
 
 Scene IV 
 
 A Room in Antonio's House 
 
 Enter Antonio, whose Wife the Duchess' Youngee 
 Son ravished^ discovering her dead body to Hippolitc 
 PiERO, and Lords 
 
 Ant. Draw nearer, lords, and be sad witnesses 
 Of a fair comely building newly fallen, 
 
SCENE IV] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 357 
 
 Being falsely undermined. Violent rape 
 Has played a glorious act : behold, my lords, 
 A sight tiiat strikes man out of me. 
 
 Piero. That virtuous lady ! 
 
 Ant. Precedent for wives ! 
 
 Hip. The blush of many women, whose chaste pres- 
 ence 
 Would e'en call shame up to their cheeks, and make 
 Pale wanton sinners have good colours — 
 
 Ant. Dead ! 
 
 Her honour first drank poison, and her life, 10 
 
 Being fellows in one house, did pledge her honour. 
 
 Piero. O, grief of many ! 
 
 Ant. I marked not this before — 
 
 A prayer-book, the pillow to her cheek : 
 This was her rich confection ; and another 
 Placed in her right hand, with a leaf tucked up, 
 Pointing to these words — 
 Melius virtute 7nori, quam per dedecus vivere : ° 
 True and effectual it is indeed. 
 
 Hip. My lord, since you invite us to your sorrows, 
 Let's truly taste 'em, that with equal comfort, 20 
 
 As to ourselves, we may relieve your wrongs : 
 si We have grief too, that yet walks without tongue ; 
 Curce leves loguuntur, maiores stupent.^ 
 
 Ant. You deal with truth,° my lord ; 
 Lend me but your attentions, and I'll cut 
 Long grief into short words. Last revelling night. 
 When torch-light made an artificial noon 
 About the court, some courtiers in the masque. 
 Putting on better faces than their own, 
 Being full of fraud and flattery — amongst whom 30 
 
 The duchess' youngest son (that moth to honour) 
 Filled up a room, and with long lust to eat 
 Into my warren, amongst all the ladies 
 Singled out that dear form, who ever lived 
 "^\s cold in lust as she is now in death 
 
358 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act 
 
 (Which that step-duchess' monster knew too well), 
 And therefore in the height of all the revels, 
 When music was heard loudest, courtiers busiest, 
 And ladies great with laughter — O vicious minute ! 
 Unfit but for relation to be spoke of : 4- 
 
 Then wnth a face more impudent than his vizard. 
 He harried her amidst a throng of panders. 
 That live upon damnation of both kinds,'^ j 
 
 And fed the ravenous vulture of his lust. ' 
 
 O death to think on't ! She, her honour forced, 
 Deemed it a nobler dowry for her name 
 To die with poison than to live with shame. 
 
 Hip. A wondrous lady ! of rare fire compact ; " 
 She has made her name an empress by that act. 
 
 Piero. My lord, what judgement follows the offender ': i 
 
 Ant. Faith, none, my lord ; it cools, and is deferred. 5 
 
 Piero. Delay the doom for rape ! 
 
 Ant. O, you must note who 'tis should die. 
 The duchess' son ! she'll look to be a saver : 
 ''Judgement, in this age, is near kin to favour." 
 
 Hip. Nay, then, step forth, thou bribeless officer : 
 
 [Draws his sivord 
 I'll bind you all in steel, to bind you surely ; 
 Here let your oaths meet, to be kept and paid, 
 Which else will stick Uke rust, and shame the blade ; 
 Strengthen my vow that if, at the next sitting, 6( 
 
 Judgement speak all in gold, and spare the blood , 
 
 Of such a serpent, e'en before their seats ' 
 
 To let his soul out, which long since was found 
 Guilty in Heaven — 
 
 All. We swear it, and will act it. 
 
 Ant. Kind gentlemen, I thank you in mine ire. 
 
 Hip. 'Twere pit) 
 
 The ruins of so fair a monument 
 Should not be dipped in the defacer's blood. 
 
 Piero. Her funeral shall be wealthy ; for her name 
 Merits a tomb of pearl. My lord Antonio, 
 
SCENE IV] THE REVENGER^S TRAGEDY 359 
 
 For this time wipe your lady from your eyes ; 70 
 
 No doubt our grief and yours may one day court it, 
 When we are more familia'r with revenge. 
 
 Ant. That is my comfort, gentlemen, and I joy 
 In this one happiness above the rest, 
 Which will be called a miracle at last ; 
 That, being an old man, I'd a wife so chaste. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
ACT THE SECOND 
 
 Scene I 
 
 A Room in Grati ana's House 
 
 Enter Castiza 
 
 Cas. How hardly shall that maiden be beset, 
 Whose only fortunes are her constant thoughts ! 
 That has no other child's part but her honour, 
 That keeps her low and empty in estate ; 
 Maids and their honours are like poor beginners ; 
 Were not sin rich, there would be fewer sinners ; 
 WTiy had not virtue a revenue ? Well, 
 I know the cause, 'twould have impoverished hell. 
 
 Enter Dondolo 
 
 How now, Dondolo ? 
 
 Don. Madonna, there is one as they say, a thing of I 
 flesh and blood — a man, I take him by his beard, that> 
 would very desirously mouth to mouth with you. 
 
 Cas. What's that? 
 
 Don. Show his teeth in your company. 
 
 Cas. I understand thee not. 
 
 Don. Why, speak with you, madonna. 
 
 Cas. Why, say so, madman, and cut oiT a great deal of 
 dirty way; had it not been better spoke in ordinary 
 words, that one would speak with me ? 
 
 Don. Ha, ha ! that's as ordinary as two shilHngs. 1 
 would strive a Uttle to show myself in my place; a 
 
 360 
 
 I 
 
SCENE I] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 361 
 
 gentleman-usher scorns to use the phrase and fancy of a 
 
 serving-man. 23 
 
 Cas. Yours be your own, sir ; go, direct him hither ; 
 
 [Exit DONDOLO. 
 
 I hope some happy tidings from my brother. 
 That lately travelled, whom my soul affects. 
 Here he comes. 
 
 Enter Vendice, disguised 
 
 Ven. Lady, the best of wishes to your sex — 
 Fair skins and new gowns. 
 
 Cas. O, they shall thank you, sir. 
 
 Whence this ? 
 
 Ven. O, from a dear and worthy mighty friend. 
 
 Cas. From whom ? 
 
 Ven. The duke's son ! 
 
 Cas. Receive that. [Boxes his ear. 
 
 I swore I would put anger in my hand, 32 
 
 And pass the virgin limits of my sex. 
 To him that next appeared in that base oJfice, 
 To be his sin's attorney. Bear to him 
 That figure of my hate upon thy cheek, 
 Whilst 'tis yet hot, and I'll reward thee for't ; 
 Tell him my honour shall have a rich name, 
 When several harlots shall share his with shame. 
 Farewell ; commend me to him in my hate. [Exit. 
 
 Ven. It is the sweetest box that e'er my nose came 
 nigh ; 41 
 
 The finest drawn- work cuff that e'er was worn ; 
 I'll love this blow for ever, and this cheek 
 Shall still henceforward take the wall ° of this. 
 O, I'm above my tongue i"^ most constant sister. 
 In this thou hast right honourable shown ; 
 Many are called by their honour, that have none ; 
 Thou art approved for ever in my thoughts. 
 It is not in the power of words to taint thee. 
 
362 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act 
 
 And yet for the salvation of my oath, I 
 
 As my resolve in that point, I will lay 
 
 Hard siege unto my mother, though I know 
 
 A siren's tongue could not bewitch her so. 
 
 Mass, fitly here she comes ! thanks, my disguise — 
 
 Madam, good afternoon. 
 
 Enter Gratiana 
 
 Gra. Y'are welcome, sir. 
 
 Ven. The next of Itaty commends him to you. 
 Our mighty expectation, the duke's son. 
 
 Gra. I think myself much honoured that he pleases 
 To rank me in his thoughts. 
 
 Ven. So m.ay you, lady : 
 
 One that is like to be our sudden duke ; ° 6( 
 
 The crown gapes for him every tide," and then 
 Commander o'er us all ; do but think on him. 
 How blessed were they, now that could pleasure him — 
 E'en with anything almost ! 
 
 Gra. Aye, save their honour. 
 
 Ven. Tut, one would let a little of that go too. 
 And ne'er be seen in't — ne'er be seen in't, mark you ; 
 I'd wink, and let it go. 
 
 Gra. Marry, but I would not. 
 
 Ven. Marry but I would, I hope ; I know you woulc 
 too. 
 If you'd that blood now, which you gave your daughter 
 To her indeed 'tis this wheel ° comes about ; !<- 
 
 That man that must be all this, perhaps ere morning 
 (For his white father does but mould away), 
 Has long desired your daughter. 
 
 Gra. Desired ? 
 
 Ven. Nay, but hear me 
 
 He desires now, that will command hereafter : 
 Therefore be wise. I speak as more a friend 
 To you than him : madam, I know you're poor, 
 And, 'lack the day ! 
 
SCENE I] THE REVENGER^S TRAGEDY 363 
 
 There are too many poor ladies already ; 
 
 Why should you wax the number ? 'Tis despised. 
 
 Live wealthy, rightly understand the world, 80 
 
 And chide away that foolish country girl 
 
 Keeps company with your daughter — Chastity. 
 
 Gra. O fie, fie ! the riches of the world cannot hire 
 A mother to such a most unnatural task. 
 
 Ven. No, but a thousand angels can. 
 Men have no power, angels must work you to't : 
 The world descends into such baseborn evils. 
 That forty angels can make fourscore devils. 
 There will be fools still, I perceive — still fools. 
 Would I be poor, dejected, scorned of greatness, 9° 
 
 Swept from the palace, and see others' daughters 
 Spring with the dew o' the court, having mine own 
 So much desired and loved by the duke's son ? 
 No, I would raise my state upon her breast ; 
 And call her eyes my tenants ; I would count 
 My yearly maintenance upon her cheeks ; 
 Take coach upon her lip ; and all her parts 
 Should keep men after men,° and I would ride 
 In pleasure upon pleasure. 
 
 You took great pains for her, once when it was ; 100 
 
 Let her requite it now, though it be but some. 
 You brought her forth : she may well bring you home. 
 
 Gra. O Heavens ! this o'ercomes me ! 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] Not, I hope, already? 
 
 Gra. [Aside.] It is too strong for me ; men know that 
 ; know us, 
 
 We are so weak their words can overthrow us ; 
 He touched me nearly, made my virtues bate. 
 When his tongue struck upon my poor estate. 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] I e'en quake to proceed, my spirit turns 
 edge. 
 
 [ fear me she's unmothered ; yet I'll venture. no 
 
 'That woman is all male, whom none can enter." — 
 AHiat think you now, lady ? Speak, are you wiser ? 
 
364 THE REVENGER^S TRAGEDY [act 
 
 What said advancement to you ? Thus it said : 
 The daugher's fall lifts up the mother's head. 
 Did it not, madam ? But I'll swear it does 
 In many places : tut, this age fears no man. 
 "'Tis no shame to be bad, because 'tis common.'' 
 
 Gra. Aye, that's the comfort on't. 
 
 Ven. The comfort on't 
 
 I keep the best for last — can these persuade you 
 To forget Heaven — and — [Gives her mone- 
 
 Gra. Aye, these are they — 
 
 Ven. O ! i 
 
 Gra. That enchant our sex. These are 
 The means that govern our affections — that woman 
 Will not be troubled Vv'ith the mother long. 
 That sees the comfortable shine of you : 
 I blush to think what for your sakes I'll do. 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] O suffering Heaven, with thy invisib 
 finger. 
 E'en at this instant turn the precious side 
 Of both mine eyeballs inward, not to see myself ! 
 
 Gra. Look you, sir. 
 
 Ven. Hollo. 
 
 Gra. Let this thank your pain 
 
 Ven. O, you're kind, madam. i 
 
 Gra. I'll see how I can move. 
 
 Ven. Your words will stin 
 
 Gra. If she be still chaste, I'll ne'er call her mine 
 
 Ve7t. Spoke truer than you meant it. 
 
 Gra. Daughter Castiz 
 
 Re-enter Castiza 
 
 Cas. Madam. 
 
 Ven. O, she's yonder ; 
 Meet her. — Troops of celestial soldiers guard her heai 
 Yon dam has devils enough to take her part. 
 
 Cas. Madam, what makes yon evil-oflSced man 
 In presence of you ? 
 
SCENE I] THE REVENGERS TRAGEDY 365 
 
 Gra. Why ? 
 
 Cas. He lately brought 
 
 Immodest writing sent from the duke's son, 140 
 
 To tempt me to dishonourable act. 
 
 Gra. Dishonourable act ! — good honourable fool, 
 That wouldst be honest, 'cause thou wouldst be so. 
 Producing no one reason but thy will. 
 And't has a' good report, prettily commended, 
 But pray, by whom ? Poor people, ignorant people ; 
 The better sort, I'm sure, cannot abide it. 
 And by what rule should we square out our lives. 
 But by our betters' actions ? O, if thou knew'st 
 What 'twere to lose it, thou would never keep it ! 150 
 
 But there's a cold curse laid upon all maids, 
 Whilst others clip the sun, they clasp the shades. 
 Virginity is paradise locked up. 
 You cannot come by yourselves ° without fee ; 
 And 'twas decreed that man should keep the key ! 
 Deny advancement ! treasure I the duke's son ! 
 
 Cas. 1 cry you mercy ! lady, I mistook you ! 
 Pray did you see my mother ? which way went you ? 
 Pray God, I have not lost her. 
 
 Yen. [Aside.] Prettily put by I 
 
 Gra. Are you as proud to me, as coy to him ? 160 
 
 Do you not know me now ? 
 
 Cas. ^^Tiy, are you she ? 
 
 The world's so changed one shape into another, 
 It is a wise child now that knows ° her mother. 
 
 Yen. [Aside.] Most right i' faith. 
 
 Gra. I owe your cheek my hand 
 
 For that presumption now ; but I'll forget it. 
 Come, you shall leave those childish 'haviours, 
 And understand your time. Fortunes flow to you ; 
 What, will you be a girl ? 
 If all feared drowning that spy waves ashore. 
 Gold would grow rich, and all the merchants poor. 170 
 
 Cas. It is a pretty saying of a wicked one ; 
 
366 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act 
 
 But methinks now it does not show so well 
 Out of your mouth — better in his I 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] Faith, bad enough in both, 
 Were I in earnest, as I'll seem no less. — 
 I wonder, lady, your own mother's words 
 Cannot be taken, nor stand in full force. 
 'Tis honesty you urge ; what's honesty ? 
 'Tis but Heaven's beggar ; and what woman is 
 So foolish to keep honesty, iJ 
 
 And be not able to keep herself ? No, 
 Times are grown wiser, and mil keep less charge." 
 A maid that has small portion now intends 
 To break up house, and live upon her friends ; 
 How blessed are you ! you have happiness alone ; 
 Others must fall to thousands, you to one. 
 Sufficient in himself to make your forehead 
 Dazzle the world with jewels, and petitionary people ° 
 Start at your presence. 
 
 Gra. O, if I were young, I should be ravished ! ii 
 
 Cas. Aye, to lose your honour ! 
 
 Ven. 'Slid, how can you lose your honour 
 To deal with my lord's grace ? 
 He'll add more honour to it by his title ; 
 Your mother will tell you how. 
 
 Gra. That I will. 
 
 Ven. O, think upon the pleasure of the palace ! 
 Secured ease and state ! the stirring meats, 
 Ready to move out of the dishes, that e'en now 
 Quicken when they are eaten ! 
 
 Banquets abroad by torch-light ! music ! sports ! 2c 
 Bareheaded vassals, that had ne'er the fortune 
 To keep on their own hats, but let horns weg 
 
 'em!" 
 Nine coaches waiting — hurry, hurry, hurry — 
 
 Cas. Aye, to the devil. 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] Aye, to the devil ! — To the duke, b 
 my faith. 
 
SCENE I] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 367 
 
 Gra. Aye, to the duke : daughter, you'd scorn to think 
 o' the devil, an you were there once. 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] True, for most there are as proud as he 
 for his heart, i' faith. — 210 
 
 Who'd sit at home in a neglected room, 
 Dealing her short-lived beauty to the pictures. 
 That are as useless as old men, when those 
 Poorer in face and fortune than herself 
 Walk with a hundred acres on their backs," 
 Fair meadows cut into green foreparts ? O, 
 It was the greatest blessing ever happened to woman 
 When farmers' sons agreed and met again, 
 To wash their hands, and come up gentlemen ! 
 The commonwealth has flourished ever since : 220 
 
 Lands that were mete by the rod, that labour's spared : 
 Tailors ride down, and measure 'em by the yard. 
 Fair trees, those comely foretops of the field, 
 Are cut to maintain head-tires — much untold." 
 All thrives but chastity ; she lies a-cold. 
 Nay, shall I come nearer to you ? mark but this : 
 Why are there so few honest women, but because 'tis 
 the poorer profession ? that's accounted best that's best 
 followed; least in trade, least in fashion; and that's 
 not honesty," beUeve it ; and do but note the love ° and 
 dejected price of it — 23 1 
 
 Lose but a pearl, we search, and cannot brook it : 
 But that" once gone, who is so mad to look it ? 
 
 Gra. Troth, he says true. 
 
 Cas. False ! I defy you both : 
 
 I have endured you \\dth an ear of fire ; 
 Your tongues have struck hot irons on my face. 
 Mother, come from that poisonous woman there. 
 
 Gra. Where ? 
 
 Cas. Do you not see her ? she's too inward, then ! " 
 Slave, perish in thy office ! " you Heavens, please 240 
 
 Henceforth to make the mother" a disease, 
 Which first begins with me : yet I've outgone you." [Exit. 
 
368 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] O angels, clap your wings upon the skies 
 And give this \drgin crystal plaudites ! 
 
 Gra. Pee\'ish, coy, foolish ! — but return this answer, 
 ^ly lord shall be most welcome, when his pleasure 
 Conducts him this way. I vdW sway mine own. 
 Women with women can work best alone. [Exit 
 
 Vol. Indeed, I'll tell him so. 
 0, more unci\-il, more unnatural, 25 
 
 Than those base-titled creatures that look dowTiward ; ' 
 WTiy does not Heaven turn black, or with a frown 
 Undo the world ? WTiy does not earth start up, 
 And strike the sins that tread upon't ? O, 
 Were't not for gold and women, there would be m 
 
 damnation. 
 Hell would look like a lord's great kitchen without fire in't 
 But 'twas decreed, before the world began. 
 That they should be the hooks to catch at man. [Exit 
 
 Scene II 
 An Apartment in the Duke's Palace 
 Enter LussuRioso, with Hippolito 
 
 Lies. I much applaud 
 Thy judgement ; thou art well-read in a fellow ; 
 And 'tis the deepest art to study man. 
 I know this, which I never learnt in schools, 
 The world's di\ided into knaves and fools. 
 
 Hip. [Aside.] Knave in your face, my lord — behinc 
 your back — 
 
 Lus. And I much thank thee, that thou hast preferrec 
 A fellow of discourse, well-mingled. 
 And whose brain time hath seasoned. 
 
 Hip. True, my lord, 
 
 We shall find season^ once, I hope. — [Aside.] O villain ! i' 
 To make such an unnatural slave of me — but — 
 
SCENE II] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 369 
 
 Lus. Mass, here he comes. 
 
 Hip. [Aside.] And now shall I have free leave to 
 
 depart. 
 Lus. Your absence, leave us. 
 
 Hip. [Aside.] Are not my thoughts true ? 
 
 I must remove ; but, brother, you may stay. 
 Heart ! we are both made bawds a new-found way ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Enter Vendice, disguised 
 
 Lus. Now we're an even number, a third man's 
 dangerous, 
 Especially her brother ; — say, be free. 
 Have I a pleasure toward — 
 
 Yen. O my lord 1 
 
 Lus. Ra\'i5h me in thine answer ; art thou rare ? 20 
 Hast thou beguiled her of salvation, 
 And rubbed hell o'er with honey ? Is she a woman ? 
 
 Ven. In all but in desire. 
 
 Lus. Then she's in nothing — 
 
 I bate in courage now. 
 
 Ven. The words I brought 
 
 Might well have made indifferent honest naught. 
 A right good woman in these days is changed 
 Into white money with less labour far ; 
 Many a maid has turned to Mahomet 
 With easier working : I durst undertake, 
 Upon the pawn and forfeit of my Ufe, 30 
 
 With half those words to flat a Puritan's wife. 
 But she is close and good ; yet 'tis a doubt 
 By this time. — O, the m.other, the mother ! 
 
 Lus. I never thought their sex had been a wonder, 
 Until this minute. WTiat fruit from the mother ? 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] How must I blister my soul, be forsworn, 
 Or shame the woman that received me first ! 
 I will be true : thou Hv'st not to proclaim. 
 
370 THE REVENGER^S TRAGEDY [act ii 
 
 Spoke to a dying man, shame has no shame. — 
 My lord. 
 
 Lus. Who's that ? ^ 
 
 Ven. Here's none but I, my lord. 40 
 
 Lus. What would thy haste utter ? 
 
 Ven. Comfort. 
 
 Lus. Welcome. 
 
 Ven. The maid being dull, having no mind to travel 
 Into unknown lands, what did I straight, 
 But set spurs to the mother ? golden spurs 
 Will put her to a false gallop in a trice. 
 
 Lus. Is't possible that in this 
 The mother should be damned before the daughter ? 
 
 Ven. O, that's good manners, my lord; the mother 
 for her age must go foremost, you know. 
 
 Lus. Thou'st spoke that true ! but where comes 
 in this comfort? 51 
 
 Ven. In a fine place, my lord, — the unnatural mother 
 Did with her tongue so hard beset her honour, 
 That the poor fool was struck to silent wonder ; 
 Yet still the maid, like an unlighted taper. 
 Was cold and chaste, save that her mother's breath 
 Did blow fire on her cheeks. The girl departed ; 
 But the good ancient madam, half mad, threw me 
 These promising words, which I took deeply note of : 
 " My lord shall be most welcome " — 60 
 
 Lus. Faith, I thank her. 
 
 Ven. ''When his pleasure conducts him this way" - 
 
 Lus. That shall be soon, i' faith. 
 
 Ven. ''I will sway mine own" ■ 
 
 Lus. She does the wiser : I commend her for't. 
 
 Ven. ''Women with women can work best alone." 
 
 Lus. By this light, and so they can; give 'em their 
 due, men are not comparable to 'em. 
 
 Ven. No, that's true ; for you shall have one woman 
 knit more in an Hour, than any man can ravel again in 
 seven-and-twenty years. 7*^ 
 
SCENE II] THE REVENGER^S TRAGEDY 371 
 
 Lus. Now my desires are happy ; I'll make 'em free- 
 men now. 
 Thou art a precious fellow ; faith, I love thee ; 
 Be wise and make it thy revenue ; beg, beg ; 
 What office couldst thou be ambitious for ? 
 
 Ven. Office, my lord ! marry, if I might have my 
 wish, I would have one that was never begged yet. 
 
 Lus. Nay, then, thou canst have none. 
 
 Ven. Yes, my lord, I could pick out another office 
 yet ; nay, and keep a horse and drab upon't. 
 
 Lus. Prithee, good bluntness, tell me. 80 
 
 Ven. Why, I would desire but this, my lord — to 
 have all the fees behind the arras, and all the farthingales 
 that fall plump about twelve o'clock at night upon the 
 rushes. 
 
 Lus. Thou'rt a mad, apprehensive knave; dost 
 think to make any great purchase of that ? 
 
 Ven. O, 'tis an unknown thing, my lord ; I wonder't 
 has been missed so long. 
 
 Lus. Well, this night I'll visit her, and 'tis till then 
 A year in my desires — farewell, attend 90 
 
 Trust me with thy preferment. 
 
 Ven. My loved lord ! 
 
 [Exit LussuRioso. 
 0, shall I kill him o' th' wrong side now ? no ! 
 Sword, thou wast never a backbiter yet. 
 I'll pierce him to his face ; he shall die looking upon me. 
 Thy veins are swelled with lust, this shall unfill 'em. 
 Great men were gods, if beggars could not kill 'em. 
 Forgive me. Heaven, to call my mother wicked ! 
 O, lessen not my days upon the earth,° 
 I cannot honour her. By this, I fear me, 
 Her tongue has turned my sister unto use. 100 
 
 I was a villain not to be forsworn 
 To this our lecherous hope, the duke's son ; 
 For lawyers, merchants, some divines, and all, 
 Count beneficial perjury ° a sin small. 
 
372 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act i 
 
 It shall go hard yet, but I'll guard her honour, 
 
 And keep the ports sure. [Exit 
 
 Scene III 
 
 A Corridor in the Palace 
 Enter Vendice, still disguised, and Hippolito 
 
 Hip. Brother, how goes the world ? • I would know 
 news of you. 
 But I have news to tell you. 
 
 Ven. What, in the name of knavery ? 
 
 Hip. Knavery, faith 
 
 This vicious old duke's worthily abused ; 
 The pen of his bastard writes him cuckold ? 
 
 Ven. His bastard ? 
 
 Hip. Pray, believe it ; he and the duchesi 
 
 By night meet in their linen ; they have been seen 
 By stair-foot panders. 
 
 Ven. O, sin foul and deep ! 
 
 Great faults are winked at when the duke's asleep. 
 See, see, here comes the Spurio. 
 
 Hip. Monstrous luxur ! i< 
 
 Ven. Unbraced ! two of his valiant bawds with him ! 
 O, there's a wicked whisper ; hell's in his ear. 
 Stay, let's observe his passage — 
 
 Enter Spurio and Servants 
 
 Spu. O, but are you sure on't ? 
 
 ist Ser. My lord, most sure on't ; for 'twas spoke b> 
 one. 
 That is most inward with the duke's son's lust. 
 That he intends within this hour to steal 
 Unto Hippolito's sister, whose chaste life 
 The mother has corrupted for his use. 
 
SCENE III] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 373 
 
 Spu. Sweet word ! sweet occasion ! faith, then, brother, 
 I'll disinherit you in as short time 21 
 
 As I was when I was begot in haste, 
 I'll damn ° you at your pleasure : precious deed ! 
 After your lust, O, 'twill be fine to bleed. 
 Come, let our passing out be soft and wary. 
 
 [Exeunt Spurio and Servants. 
 
 Ven. Mark ! there ; there ; ° that step ; now to the 
 duchess ! 
 This their second meeting writes the duke cuckold 
 With new additions — his horns newly revived. 
 Night ! thou that look'st Hke funeral heralds' fees," 
 Torn down betimes i' the morning, thou hang'st fitly 30 
 To grace those sins that have no grace at all. 
 Now 'tis full sea abed over the world : 
 There's juggling of all sides ; some that were maids 
 E'en at sunset, are now perhaps i' the toll-book. 
 This woman in immodest thin apparel 
 Lets in her friend by water ; here a dame 
 Cunning nails leather hinges to a door, 
 To avoid proclamation. 
 
 Now cuckolds are coining, apace, apace, apace, apace ! 
 And careful sisters spin that thread i' the night, 40 
 
 That does maintain them and their bawds i' the day. 
 
 Hip. You flow well, brother. 
 
 Ven. Pooh ! I'm shallow yet ; 
 
 Too sparing and too modest ; shall I tell thee ? 
 If every trick were told that's dealt by night. 
 There are few here that would not blush outright. 
 
 Hip. I am of that belief too. Who's this comes ? 
 
 Ven. The duke's son up so late ? Brother, fall back, 
 And you shall learn some mischief. My good lord ! 
 
 Enter LussuRioso 
 
 Lus. Piato ! why, the man I wished for ! Come, 
 I do embrace this season for the fittest s° 
 
 To taste of that young lady. 
 
374 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act ii 
 
 Yen. [Aside.] Heart and hell ! 
 
 Hip. [Aside] Damned villain ! 
 
 Vcn. [Aside] I have no way now to cross it, but to 
 kill him. 
 
 Lus. Come, only thou and I. 
 
 Vcu. ^ly lord ! my lord ! 
 
 Lus. Why dost thou start us ? 
 
 Yen. I'd almost forgot — the bastard ! 
 
 Lus. What of him ? 
 
 Yen. This night, this hour, this minute, now — 
 
 Lus. What? what? 
 
 Yen. Shadows the duchess — 
 
 Lus. Horrible word ! 
 
 Yen. And (like strong poison) eats 
 
 Into the duke your father's forehead. 
 
 Lus. O ! 
 
 Yen. He makes horn-royal. 
 
 Lus. ]\Iost ignoble slave ! 60 
 
 Yen. This is the fruit of two beds.° 
 
 Lus. 1 am mad. 
 
 Yen. That passage he trod warily. 
 
 Lus. He did ? 
 
 Yen. And hushed his villains every step he took. 
 
 Lus. His villains ! I'll confound them. 
 
 Yen. Take 'em finely — finely, now. 
 
 Lus. The duchess' chamber-door shall not control 
 me. [Exeunt Lussurioso and Vendice. 
 
 ILip. Good, happy, swift : there's gunpowder i' the 
 court, 
 Wildfire at midnight. In this heedless fury 
 He may show \iolence to cross himself. 
 I'll follow the event. [Exit. 70 
 
SCENE IV] THE REVENGER-S TRAGEDY 375 
 
 Scene IV 
 
 The Duke's Bedchamber. — The Duke and Duchess in 
 
 bed 
 
 Enter LussuRioso and Vendice, disguised 
 
 Lus. Where is that villain ? 
 
 Ven. Softly, my lord, and you may take 'em twisted. 
 
 Lus. I care not how. 
 
 Ven. O ! 'twill be glorious 
 
 To kill 'em doubled, when they're heaped. Be soft, my 
 lord. 
 
 Lus. Away ! my spleen is not so lazy : thus and thus 
 I'll shake their eyelids ope, and with my sword 
 Shut 'em again for ever. Villain ! strumpet ! 
 
 Duke. You upper guard, defend us I 
 
 Duch. Treason ! treason ! 
 
 Duke. O, take me not in sleep ! 
 I have great sins ; I must have days, 10 
 
 Xay, months, dear son, with penitential heaves, 
 To lift 'em out, and not to die unclear. 
 0, thou wilt kill me both in Heaven and here. 
 
 Lus. I am amazed to death. 
 
 Duke. ^^y, villain, traitor, 
 
 Worse than the foulest epithet ; now I'll gripe thee 
 E'en with the nerves of wrath, and throw thy head 
 Amongst the lawyers ! ° — guard ! 
 
 Enter Ambitioso, Supervacuo, Hippolito and Lords 
 
 ist Lord. How comes the quiet of your grace dis- 
 turbed ? 
 
 Duke. This boy, that should be myself after me. 
 Would be myself before me ; and in heat 20 
 
 Of that ambition bloodily rushed in. 
 Intending to depose me in my bed. 
 
376 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act i 
 
 2nd Lord. Duty and natural loyalty forfend ! 
 
 Duch. He called his father villain, and me strumpet, 
 A word that I abhor to file my lips with. 
 
 Amh. That was not so well done, brother. 
 
 Lus. [Aside.] I am abused — I know there's no excus( 
 can do me good. 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] 'Tis now good policy to be from sight ; 
 His vicious purpose to our sister's honour 
 I crossed beyond our thought. 3« 
 
 Hip. You httle dreamed his father slept here. 
 
 Ven. O, 'twas far beyond me : 
 But since it fell so — without frightful words. 
 Would he had killed him, 'twould have eased our swords. 
 
 Duke. Be comforted, our duchess, he shall die. 
 
 [Exeunt Vendice and Hippolito. 
 
 Lus. Where's this slave-pander now ? out of mine eye, 
 Guilty of this abuse. 
 
 Enter Spurio with Servants 
 
 Spu. Y' are villains, fablers ! 
 
 You have knaves' chins and harlots' tongues ; you lie ; , 
 And I will damn you with one meal a day. 
 
 ist Ser. O good my lord ! 
 
 Spu. 'Sblood, you shall never sup. 
 
 2nd Ser. O, I beseech you, sir ! 4^ 
 
 Spu. To let my sword catch cold so long, and miss him !i 
 
 i^^ Ser. Troth, my lord, 'twas his intent to meet there. 
 
 Spu. Heart ! he's yonder. 
 Ha, what news here ? is the day out o' the socket, 
 That it is noon at midnight ? the court up ? 
 How comes the guard so saucy with his elbows ? 
 
 Lus. The bastard here ? 
 Nay, then the truth of my intent shall out ; 
 My lord and father, hear me. 
 
 Duke. Bear him hence, 5° 
 
 Lus. I can with loyalty excuse. 
 
SCENE IV] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 377 
 
 Duke. Excuse ? to prison with the villain ! 
 Death shall not long lag after him. 
 
 Spu. Good, i' faith : then 'tis not much amiss. 
 
 Lus. Brothers, my best release Hes on your tongues ; 
 I pray, persuade for me. 
 
 Amb. It is our duties ; make yourself sure of us. 
 
 Sup. We'll sweat in pleading. 
 
 Lus. And I may live to thank you. 
 
 [Exit with Lords. 
 
 Amb. No, thy death shall thank me better. 60 
 
 Spu. He's gone ; I'll after him. 
 And know his trespass ; seem to bear a part 
 In all his ills, but with a puritan heart."^ 
 
 [Exit with Servants. 
 
 Amb. Now, brother, let our hate and love be woven 
 So subtlely together, that in speaking one word for his 
 
 Hfe, 
 We may make three for his death : 
 The craftiest pleader gets most gold for breath. 
 
 Sup. Set on, I'll not be far behind you, brother. 
 
 Duke. Is't possible a son should be disobedient as 
 far as the sword? It is the highest: he can go no 
 farther. 71 
 
 Amb. My gracious lord, take pity — 
 
 Duke. Pity, boys ! 
 
 A mb. Nay, we'd be loath to move your grace too much ; 
 We know the trespass is unpardonable, 
 Black, wicked, and unnatural. 
 
 Sup. In a son ! O, monstrous ! 
 
 Amb. Yet, my lord, 
 
 A duke's soft hand strokes the rough head of law, 
 And makes it He smiooth. 
 
 Duke. But my hand shall ne'er do't. 
 
 Amb. That as you please, my lord. 
 
 Sup. We must needs confess. 
 
 Some fathers would have entered into hate 80 
 
 So deadly-pointed, that before his eyes 
 
3/3 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act ii 
 
 He would ha' seen the execution sound " 
 Without corrupted favour. 
 
 Amb. But, my lord, 
 
 Your grace may Hve the wonder of all times, 
 In pardoning that offence, which never yet 
 Had face to beg a pardon. 
 
 Duke. Honey, how's this ? 
 
 Amb. Forgive him, good my lord ; he's your own son : 
 And I must needs say, 'twas the viler done. 
 
 Sup. He's the next heir : yet this true reason gathers, 
 None can possess that dispossess their fathers. 90 
 
 Be merciful ! — 
 
 Duke. [Aside.] Here's no stepmother's wit ; 
 I'll try them both upon their love and hate. 
 
 Amb. Be merciful — although — 
 
 Duke. You have prevailed. 
 
 My wrath, like flaming wax, hath spent itself ; 
 I know 'twas but some peevish moon in him ; 
 Go, let him be released. 
 
 Sup. [Aside.] 'Sfoot, how now, brother ? 
 
 Amb. Your grace doth please to speak beside your 
 spleen ; 
 I would it were so happy. 
 
 Duke. Why, go, release him. 
 
 Sup. O my good lord ! I know the fault's too weighty 
 And full of general loathing : too inhuman, 100 
 
 Rather by all men's voices worthy death. 
 
 Duke. 'Tis true too ; here, then, receive this signet. 
 Doom shall pass ; 
 
 Direct it to the judges ; he shall die 
 Ere many days. Make haste. 
 
 Amb. All speed that may be. 
 
 We could have wished his burden not so sore : 
 We knew your grace did but delay before. 
 
 [Exeunt Ambitioso and Supervacuo. 
 
 Duke. Here's envy with a poor thin cover o'er't ; , 
 
 Like scarlet hid in lawn, easily spied through. i 
 
SCENE IV] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 379 
 
 This their ambition by the mother's side no 
 
 Is dangerous, and for safety must be purged. 
 
 I will prevent their envies ; sure it was 
 
 But some mistaken fury in our son, 
 
 Which these aspiring boys would climb upon : 
 
 He shall be released suddenly. 
 
 Enter Nobles 
 
 ist Noble. Good morning to your grace. 
 
 Duke. Welcome, my lords. 
 
 2}id Noble. Our knees shall take 
 Away the office of our feet for ever. 
 Unless your grace bestow a father's eye 
 Upon the clouded fortunes 'of your son, 120 
 
 And in compassionate virtue grant him that. 
 Which makes e'en mean men happy — liberty. 
 
 Duke. How seriously their loves and honours woo 
 For that which I am about to pray them do ! 
 Arise, my lords ; your knees sign his release. 
 We freely pardon him. 
 
 1st Noble. We owe your grace much thanks, and he 
 much duty. [Exeunt Nobles. 
 
 Duke. It wtII becomes that judge to nod at crimes, 
 That does commit greater himself, and lives. 
 I may forgive a disobedient error, 13° 
 
 That expect pardon for adultery. 
 And in my old days am a youth in lust. 
 Many a beauty have I turned to poison 
 In the denial," covetous of all. 
 Age hot is like a monster to be seen ; 
 , My hairs are white, and yet my sins are green. 
 
ACT THE THIRD 
 
 Scene I 
 
 A Room in the Palace 
 
 Enter Ambitioso and Supervacuo 
 
 Sup. Brother, let my opinion sway you once ; 
 I speak it for the best, to have him die 
 Surest and soonest ; if the signet come 
 Unto the judge's hand, why then his doom 
 Will be deferred till sittings and court-days, 
 Juries, and further. Faiths are bought and sold ; 
 Oaths in these days are but the skin of gold. 
 
 Amh. In troth, 'tis true too. 
 
 Sup. Then let's set by the judges. 
 And fall to the officers ; 'tis but mistaking 
 The duke our father's meaning ; and where he named 
 "Ere many days" — 'tis but forgetting that. 
 And have him die i' the morning. 
 
 A^nh. Excellent ! 
 
 Then am I heir ! duke in a minute ! 
 
 Sup. [Aside.] Nay, 
 
 An he were once puffed out, here is a pin 
 Should quickly prick your bladder. 
 
 Amh. ^ Blessed occasion ! 
 
 He being packed, we'll have some trick and wile 
 To wind our younger brother out of prison. 
 That lies in for the rape. The lady's dead. 
 And people's thoughts will soon be buried. 
 
 Sup. We may with safety do't, and live and feed ; 
 The duchess' sons are too proud to bleed. 
 
 380 
 
SCENE II] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 38 1 
 
 Amb. We are, i' faith, to say true — come, let's not 
 linger : 
 I'll to the officers ; go you before, 
 And set an edge upon the executioner. 
 
 Sup. Let me alone to grind. [Exit. 
 
 Amb. Meet farewell ! 
 
 I am next now ; I rise just in that place, 
 Where thou'rt cut oft ; upon thy neck, kind brother ; 
 The falling of one head lifts up another. [Exit, 
 
 Scene II 
 
 The Courtyard of a Prison 
 
 Enter LussuRioso mth Nobles 
 
 Lus. My lords, I am so much indebted to your loves 
 For this, O, this delivery — 
 
 1st Noble. Put our duties, my lord, unto the hopes 
 that grow in you. 
 
 Lus. If e'er I live to be myself,"^ I'll thank you. 
 O liberty, thou sweet and heavenly dame ! 
 But hell for prison is too mild a name. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Ambitioso ayul Supervacuo, with Officers 
 
 Amb. Officers, here's the duke's signet, your firm 
 
 warrant, 
 Brings the command of present death along with it 
 Unto our brother, the duke's son ; we are sorry 
 That w^e are so unnaturally employed 10 
 
 In such an unkind office, fitter far 
 For enemies than brothers. 
 
 ■jp. But, you know, 
 
 duke's command must be obeyed. 
 
 : Off. It must and shall, my lord. This morning, 
 
 then 
 
 uddenly? 
 
382 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act m 
 
 Amb. Aye, alas ! poor, good soul ! 
 
 He must breakfast betimes ; the executioner 
 Stands ready to put forth his cowardly valour. 
 
 2nd Of. Already ? 
 
 Sup. Already, i' faith. O sir, destruction hies. 
 And that is least imprudent," soonest dies. 
 
 ist OJf. Troth, you say true. INIy lord, we take oui 
 leaves : 
 Our office shall be sound ; " we'll not delay 
 The third part of a minute. 
 
 Amb. Therein you show 
 
 Yourselves good men and upright. Officers, 
 Pray, let him die as private as he may ; 
 Do him that favour ; for the gaping people 
 Will but trouble him at his prayers. 
 And make him curse and swear, and so die black. 
 Will you be so far kind ? 
 
 ist Of. It shall be done, my lord. 
 
 Amb. Why, we do thank you ; if we live to be — 3« 
 You shall have a better office. 
 
 2nd Of. Your good lordship — 
 
 Sup. Commend us to the scaffold in our tears. 
 
 ist Of. We'll weep, and do your commendations. 
 
 Amb. Fine fools in office ! ° {Exeunt Officers 
 
 Sup. Things fall out so fit ! 
 
 Amb. So happily ! come, brother ! ere next clock. 
 His head will be made serve a bigger block. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene III 
 
 Inside a Prison 
 
 Enter the Duchess' Youngest Son and Keeper 
 
 F. Son. Keeper ! 
 Keep. My lord. 
 
 F. Son. No news lately from our brothers ? 
 Are they unmindful of us ? 
 
SCENE III] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 383 
 
 Keep. My lord, a messenger came newly in, 
 And brought this from 'em, 
 
 F. Son. Nothing but paper-comforts? 
 I looked for my delivery before this, 
 Had they been worth their oaths. — Prithee, be from us. 
 
 [Exit Keeper. 
 Now what say you, forsooth ? speak out, I pray. 10 
 
 [Reads the letter.] '^ Brother, be of good cheer" ; 
 'Slud, it begins Hke a whore with good cheer. 
 '^Thou shalt not be long a prisoner." 
 Not six-and-thirty years, like a bankrupt — I think so. 
 " We have thought upon a device to get thee out by a trick." 
 By a trick ! pox o' your trick, an' it be .so long a playing. 
 *'And so rest comforted, be merry, and expect it sud- 
 denly!" 
 Be merry! hang merry, draw and quarter merry ; I'll be 
 mad. Is't not strange that a man should lie-in a 
 whole month for a woman ? Well, we shall see 
 how sudden our brothers will be in their promise. I 
 must expect still a trick : I shall not be long a prisoner. 
 How now, what news ? 23 
 
 Re-enter Keeper 
 
 Keep. Bad news, my lord ; I am discharged of you. 
 F. Son. Slave ! call'st thou that bad news ? I 
 
 thank you, brothers. 
 Keep. My lord, 'twill prove so. Here comes the 
 
 officers. 
 Into whose hands I must commit you. 
 F. Son. Ha, officers ! what ? why ? 
 
 Enter Officers 
 
 ist Of. You must pardon us, my lord : 
 Our office must be sound : for here is our warrant, 30 
 The signet from the duke ; you must straight suffer. 
 
384 THE REVENGER^S TRAGEDY [act ii 
 
 F. Son. Suffer ! I'll suffer you to begone ; I'll suffe: 
 you 
 To come no more ; what would you have me suffer ? 
 
 2nd Of. My lord, those words were better changec 
 to prayers. 
 The time's but brief with you : prepare to die. 
 
 Y. Son. Sure, 'tis not so ! 
 
 yd Of. It is too true, my lord. 
 
 Y. Son. I tell you 'tis not ; for the duke my father 
 Deferred me till next sitting ; and I look, 
 E'en every minute, threescore times an hour. 
 For a release, a trick wrought by my brothers. 4c 
 
 15/ Of. A trick, my lord ! if you expect such comfort 
 Your hope's as fruitless as a barren woman : 
 Your brothers were the unhappy messengers 
 That brought this powerful token '^ for your death. 
 
 Y. Son. My brothers ? no, no. 
 
 2nd Of. 'Tis most true, my lord 
 
 Y. Son. My brothers to bring a warrant for my death 
 How strange this shows ! 
 
 yd Of. There's no delaying time. 
 
 Y. Son. Desire 'em hither : call 'em up — my broth 
 ers ! 
 They shall deny it to your faces. 
 
 I St Of. My lord, 
 
 They're far enough by this ; at least at court ; sc 
 
 And this most strict command they left behind 'em. 
 When grief swam in their eyes, they showed like brothers, 
 Brimful of heavy sorrow — but the duke 
 "Must have his pleasure." 
 
 F. Son. His pleasure ! 
 
 ist Of. These were the last words, which my memory 
 bears, 
 "Commend us to the scaffold in our tears." 
 
 F. Soji. Pox dry their tears ! what should I do witl: 
 tears ? 
 I hate 'em worse than any citizen's son 
 
SCENE III] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 385 
 
 Can hate salt water. Here came a letter now, 60 
 
 New-bleeding from their pens, scarce stinted yet : 
 Would I'd been torn in pieces when I tore it : 
 Look, you officious whoresons, words of comfort, 
 "Not long a prisoner." 
 
 ist Off. It says true in that, sir ; for you must suffer 
 presently. 
 
 F. Son. A villainous Duns° upon the letter, knavish 
 exposition ! 
 Look you then here, sir : "we'll get thee out by a trick," 
 says he. 
 
 27id Off. That may hold too, sir ; for you know a trick 
 is commonly four cards," which was meant by us four 
 officers. 70 
 
 Y. Son. Worse and worse dealing. 
 
 ist Of. The hour beckons us. 
 The headsman waits : lift up your eyes to Heaven. 
 
 Y. Son. I thank you, faith ; good pretty wholesome 
 counsel ! 
 I should look up to Heaven, as you said, 
 Whilst he behind me cozens me of my head. 
 Aye, that's the trick. 
 
 yd Of. You delay too long, my lord. 
 
 F. Son. Stay, good authority's bastards; " since I must, 
 Through brothers' perjury, die, O, let me venom 
 Their souls wdth curses. ' 
 
 yd Of. Come, 'tis no time to curse. 80 
 
 F. Son. Must I bleed then without respect of sign ? 
 well — 
 My fault was sw^eet sport which the world approves, 
 I die for that which every woman loves. [Exeunt. 
 
386 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act iii 
 
 Scene IV 
 
 A Lodge in the Ducal Grounds 
 
 Enter Vendice, disguised, and Hippolito 
 
 Ven. O, sweet, delectable, rare, happy, ravishing ! 
 
 Hip. Why, what's the matter, brother? 
 
 Ven. O, 'tis able to make a man spring up and knock 
 his forehead 
 Against yon silver ceiling. 
 
 Hip. Prithee, tell me ; 
 
 Why may not I partake with you ? you vowed once 
 To give me share to every tragic thought. 
 
 Ven. By the mass, I think I did too ; 
 Then I'll divide it to thee.° The old duke. 
 Thinking my outward shape and inward heart 
 Are cut out of one piece (for he that prates his secrets, lo 
 His heart stands o' the outside), hires me by price 
 To greet him with a lady 
 
 In some fit place, veiled from the eyes o' the court, j 
 
 Some darkened, blushless angle, that is guilty j 
 
 Of his forefather's lust and great folks' riots ; j 
 
 To which I easily (to maintain my shape) 
 Consented, and did wish his impudent grace 
 To meet her here in this unsunned lodge, 
 Wherein 'tis night at noon ; and here the rather 
 Because, unto the torturing of his soul, 20 
 
 The bastard and the duchess have appointed 
 Their meeting too in this luxurious circle ; 
 Which most afflicting sight will kill his eyes, 
 Before we kill the rest of him. 
 
 Hip. 'Twill, i' faith ! Most dreadfully digested ! 
 I see not how you could have missed me, brother. 
 
 Ven. True ; but the violence of my joy forgot it. 
 
 Hip. Aye, but where's that lady now ? 
 
 Ven. O ! at that word 
 
 i 
 
SCENE IV] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 387 
 
 I'm lost again ; you cannot find me yet : 
 
 I'm in a throng of happy apprehensions. 30 
 
 He's suited for a lady ; I have took care 
 
 For a delicious lip, a sparkling eye — 
 
 You shall be witness, brother : 
 
 Be ready; stand with your hat off. [Exit. 
 
 Hip. Troth, I wonder what lady it should be ! 
 Yet 'tis no wonder, now I think again, 
 To have a lady stoop to a duke, that stoops unto his men. 
 'Tis common to be common through the world : 
 And there's more private common shadowing vices. 
 Than those who are known both by their names and 
 prices." 40 
 
 'Tis part of my allegiance to stand bare 
 To the duke's concubine ; and here she comes. 
 
 Re-enter Vendice, with the skull of his Betrothed dressed 
 up in tires 
 
 Ven. Madam, his grace will not be absent long. 
 Secret ! ne'er doubt us, madam ; 'twill be worth 
 Three velvet gowns to your ladyship. Known ! ° 
 Few ladies respect that disgrace : a poor thin shell ! 
 'Tis the best grace you have to do it well. 
 I'll save your hand that labour :^ I'll unmask you ! 
 
 Hip. Why, brother, brother ! 
 
 Ven. Art thou beguiled now ? tut, a lady can, 50 
 
 As such all hid,'^ beguile a wiser man. 
 Have I not fitted the old surfeiter 
 With a quaint piece of beauty ? Age and bare bone 
 Are e'er allied in action. Here's an eye. 
 Able to tempt a great man — to serve God : 
 A pretty hanj2;ing lip, that has forgot now to dissemble. 
 Methinks this mouth should make a swearer tremble ; 
 A drunkard clasp his teeth, and not undo 'em, 
 To suffer wet damnation to run through 'em. 
 Here's a cheek keeps her colour, let the wind go whistle : 
 
388 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act iii 
 
 Spout, rain, we fear thee not : be hot or cold, 6i 
 
 All's one with us ; and is not he absurd. 
 Whose fortunes are upon their faces set, 
 That fear no other god but wind and wet ? 
 
 Hip. Brother, you've spoke that right : 
 Is this the form that, living, shone so bright ? 
 
 Ven. The very same. 
 And now methinks I could e'en chide myself 
 For doting on her beauty, though her death 
 Shall be revenged after no common action. 70 
 
 Does the silkworm expend her yellow labours 
 For thee ? For thee does she undo herself ? 
 Are lordships sold to maintain ladyships. 
 For the poor benefit of a bewildering minute ? 
 Why does yon fellow falsify highways," 
 And put his life between the judge's lips. 
 To refine such a thing — keeps horse and men 
 To beat their valours for her ? 
 Surely we are all mad people, and they 
 Whom we think are, are not : we mistake those ; 80 
 
 'Tis we are mad in sense, they but in clothes. 
 
 Hip. Faith, and in clothes too we, give us our due. 
 
 Ven. Does every proud and self-affecting dame 
 Camphire her face for this, and grieve her Maker 
 In sinful baths of milk, v/hen many an infant starves 
 For her superfluous outside — all for this ? 
 Who now bids twenty pounds a night ? prepares 
 Music, perfumes, and sweetmeats? All are hushed. 
 Thou may'st lie chaste now ! it were fine, methinks, 
 To have thee seen at revels, forgetful feasts, 90 
 
 And unclean brothels ! sure, 'twould fright the sinner. 
 And make him a good coward : put a reveller 
 Out of his antic amble, 
 And cloy an epicure with empty dishes. 
 Here might a scornful and ambitious woman 
 Look through and through herself. See, ladies, with false 
 forms 
 
SCENE IV] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 389 
 
 You deceive men, but cannot deceive worms. — 
 
 Now to my tragic business. Look you, brother, 
 
 I have not fashioned this only for show 
 
 And useless property ; ° no, it shall bear a part 100 
 
 E'en in its own revenge. This very skull, 
 
 Whose mistress the duke poisoned, with this drug. 
 
 The mortal curse of the earth, shall be revenged 
 
 In the like strain, and kiss his lips to death. 
 
 As much as the dumb thing can, he shall feel : 
 
 What fails in poison, we'll supply in steel. 
 
 Hip. Brother, I do applaud thy constant vengeance — 
 The quaintness of thy malice — above thought. 
 
 Ven. So, 'tis laid on [He poisons the lips of the skull] : 
 now come and welcome, duke, 
 I have her for thee. I protest it, brother, 1 10 
 
 Methinks she makes almost as fair a fine. 
 As some old gentlewoman in a periwig. 
 Hide thy face now for shame; thou hadst need have a 
 
 mask now : 
 'Tis vain when beauty flows; " but when it fleets. 
 This would become graves better than the streets. 
 
 Hip. You have my voice ^ in that : hark, the duke's come. 
 
 Ven. Peace, let's observe what company he brings, 
 And how he does absent 'em ; for you know 
 He'll wish all private. Brother, fall you back a Uttle 
 With the bony lady. 120 
 
 Hip. That I will. [Retires. 
 
 Ven. So, so ; now nine years' vengeance crowd into a 
 minute ! 
 
 Enter Duke mid Gentlemen 
 
 Duke. You shall have leave to leave us, with this 
 charge 
 Upon your lives, if we be missed by the duchess 
 Or any of the nobles, to give out. 
 We're privately rid forth. 
 
390 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act ii 
 
 Veti. O happiness ! 
 
 Duke. With some few honourable gentlemen, yoi 
 may say — 
 You may name those that are away from court. 
 
 Goi. Your will and pleasure shall be done, my lord. 
 
 [Exeunt Gentlemen 
 
 Veu. ''Privately rid forth !" 13- 
 
 He strives to make sure work on't. — Your good grace ! 
 
 [Advances 
 
 Duke. Piato, well done, hast brought her ! wha- 
 lady is't ? 
 
 Yen. Faith, my lord, a country lady, a little bash 
 ful at first, as most of them are; but after the firs' 
 kiss, my lord, the worst is past with them. You: 
 grace knows now what you have to do ; she has somewha: 
 a grave look with her — but — 
 
 Duke. I love that best ; conduct her.° 
 
 Ven. [Asi^e.] Have at all. 
 
 Duke. In gravest looks the greatest faults seem less. 
 Give me that sin that's robed in holiness. 14 
 
 Yen. [Aside.] Back with the torch I brother, raise th( 
 perfumes. 
 
 Duke. How sweet can a duke breathe ! Age has m 
 fault. 
 Pleasure should meet in a perfumed mist. 
 Lady, sweetly encountered : I came from court, 
 I must be bold with you. O, what's this ? O ! 
 
 Yen. Royal \illain ! white de\'il ! 
 
 Duke. O! 
 
 Ven. Brother, place the torch here, that his affrightet^ 
 eyeballs 
 May start into those hollows. Duke, dost know 15^ 
 
 Yon dreadful vizard ? View it well ; 'tis the skull 
 Of Gloriana, whom thou poisonedst last. 
 
 Duke. O ! 't has poisoned me ! 
 
 Yen. Didst not know that till now ? 
 
 Duke. What are you two ' 
 
SCENE ivj THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 39 1 
 
 Ven. Villains all three ! the very ragged bone 
 Has been sufficiently revenged. 
 
 Duke. O, HippoUto, call treason ! [He sinks down. 
 
 Hip. Yes, my lord ; treason I treason ! treason I 
 
 [Stamping on him. 
 
 Duke. Then I'm betrayed. 
 
 Ven. Alas ! poor lecher : in the hands of knaves, 160 
 A slavish duke is baser than his slaves. 
 
 Duke. My teeth are eaten out. 
 
 Ven. Hadst any left ? 
 
 Hip. I think but few. 
 
 Ven. Then those that did eat are eaten. 
 
 Duke. my tongue ! 
 
 Ven. Your tongue? 'twill teach you to kiss closer, 
 Xot like a slobbering Dutchman. You have eyes still : 
 Look, monster, what a lady hast thou made me 
 
 [Discovers himself. 
 My once betrothed wife. 
 
 Duke. Is it thou, \'illain ? nay, then — 
 
 Ven. 'Tis I, 'tis Vendice, 'tis I. 170 
 
 Hip. And let this comifort thee : our lord and father 
 F^ll sick upon the infection of thy frowns, 
 1 died in sadness : be that thy hope of life. 
 
 Duke. 01 
 
 Ven. He had his tongue, yet grief made him die 
 speechless. 
 ^ ' ^^h I 'tis but early yet ; now I'll begin 
 . stick thy soul with ulcers. I wdll make 
 Thy spirit grievous sore ; it shall not rest. 
 But like some pestilent m.an toss in thy breast. Mark 
 
 me, duke : 
 Thou art a renowned, high and mighty cuckold. iSo 
 
 Duke. O! 
 
 Ven. Thy bastard, thy bastard rides a-hunting in thy 
 brow. 
 
 Duke. Millions of deaths ! 
 • Ven. Nay, to afflict thee more, 
 
392 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act ii 
 
 Here in this lodge they meet for damned clips. 
 Those eyes shall see the incest of their lips. 
 
 Duke. Is there a hell besides this, villains ? 
 
 Ven. Villain ! 
 Nay, Heaven is just ; scorns are the hire of scorns : 
 I ne'er knew yet adulterer without horns. 
 
 Hip. Once, ere they die, 'tis quitted." 
 
 Ven. Hark ! the music 
 
 Their banquet is prepared, they're coming — 19^ 
 
 Duke. O, kill me not with that sight ! 
 
 Ven: Thou shalt not lose that sight for all thy duke- 
 dom. 
 
 Duke. Traitors ! murderers ! 
 
 Ven. What ! is not thy tongue eaten out yet ? 
 Then we'll invent a silence. Brother, stifle the torch. 
 
 Duke. Treason ! murder ! 
 
 Ven. Nay, faith, we'll have you hushed. Now with 
 thy dagger 
 Nail down his tongue, and mine shall keep possession 
 About his heart ; if he but gasp, he dies ; ^ 
 
 We dread not death to quittance injuries. 
 Brother, if he but wink, not brooking the foul object, 
 Let our two other hands tear up his lids. 
 And make his eyes like comets shine through blood. 
 When the bad bleeds, then is the tragedy good. 
 
 Hip. Whist, brother ! the music's at our ear ; they 
 come. 
 
 Enter Spurio, meeting the Duchess 
 
 Spu. Had not that kiss a taste of sin, 'twere sweet. 
 
 Duch. Why, there's no pleasure sweet, but it is sinful. 
 
 Spu. True, such a bitter sweetness fate hath given ; 
 Best side to us is the worst side to Heaven. 210 
 
 Duch. Pish ! come : 'tis the old duke, thy doubtful 
 father : 
 The thought of him rubs Heaven in thy way. 
 
SCENE V] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 393 
 
 But I protest by yonder waxen fire, 
 Forget him, or I'll poison him. 
 
 Spu. Madam, you urge a thought which ne'er had life. 
 So deadly do I loathe him for my birth, 
 That if he took me hasped within his bed, 
 I would add murder to adultery, 
 And with my sword give up his years to death. 
 
 Duch. Why, now thou'rt sociable ; lets in and feast : 
 Loud'st music sound ; pleasure is banquet's guest. 221 
 
 [Exeunt Duchess and Spurio. 
 
 Duke. I cannot brook — [Dies. 
 
 Ven. The brook is turned to blood. 
 
 Hip. Thanks to loud music. 
 
 Ven. 'Twas our friend, indeed. 
 
 'Tis state in music for a duke to bleed." 
 The dukedom wants a head, though yet unknown ; 
 As fast as they peep up, let's cut 'em down. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V 
 
 A Room in the Palace 
 
 Enter Ambitioso and Supervacuo 
 
 Amh. Was not his execution rarely plotted ? 
 We are the duke's sons now. 
 
 Sup. Aye, you may thank my policy for that. 
 
 Amh. Your policy for what ? 
 
 Sup. Why, was't not my invention, brother, 
 To slip the judges ? and in lesser compass 
 Did I not draw the model of his death ; 
 Advising you to sudden officers 
 And e'en extemporal execution ? 
 
 Amh. Heart ! 'twas a thing I thought on too. 10 
 
 Sup. You thought on't too ! 'sfoot, slander not your 
 thoughts 
 With glorious untruth ; I know 'twas from you. 
 
394 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act iii 
 
 Amb. Sir, I say, 'twas in my head. I 
 
 Sup. Aye, like your brains then, 
 
 Ne'er to come out as long as you lived. 
 
 Amb. You'd have the honour on't, forsooth, that your 
 wit 
 Led him to the scaffold. 
 
 Sup. Since it is my due, 
 
 I'll publish't, but I'll ha't in spite of you. 
 
 Amb. Methinks, y'are much too bold ; you should a 
 Httle 
 Remember us, brother, next to be honest duke. 
 
 Sup. [A side.] Aye, it shall be as easy for you to be duke ! 
 As to be honest ; and that's never, i' faith. 21 
 
 Amb. Well, cold he is by this time ; and because 
 We're both ambitious, be it our amity, 
 And let the glory be shared equally. 
 
 Sup. I am content to that. 
 
 Amb. This night our younger brother shall out of 
 prison : 
 I have a trick. 
 
 Sup. A trick ! prithee, what is't ? 
 
 Amb. We'll get him out by a wile. 
 
 Sup. Prithee, what wile ? 
 
 Amb. No, sir ; you shall not know it, till it be done ; 
 For then you'd swear 'twere yours. 30 
 
 Enter an Officer 
 
 Sup. How now, what's he ? 
 
 Amb. One of the officers. 
 
 Sup. Desired news. 
 
 Amb. How now, my friend ? 
 
 Of. My lords, under your pardon, I am allotted 
 To that desertless office, to present you 
 With the yet bleeding head — 
 
 Sup. Ha, ha ! excellent. 
 
 Amb. All's sure our own: brother, canst weep, 
 think'st thou ? 
 
SCENE V] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 395 
 
 'T would grace our flattery much ; think of some dame ; 
 'Twill teach thee to dissemble. 
 
 Sup. I have thought ; — now for yourself. 
 
 Amh. Our sorrows are so fluent, 4° 
 
 Our eyes overflow our tongues ; words spoke in tears 
 Are like the murmurs of the waters — the sound 
 Is loudly heard, but cannot be distinguished. 
 
 Sup. How died he, pray ? 
 
 Of. O, full of rage and spleen. 
 
 Sup. He died most valiantly, then ; we're glad to hear 
 it. 
 
 Of. We could not woo him once to pray. 
 
 Amb. He showed himself a gentleman in that : 
 Give him his due. 
 
 Of. But, in the stead of prayer, 
 
 He drew forth oaths. 
 
 Sup. Then did he pray, dear heart, 
 
 Although you understood him not ? 
 
 Of. My lords, 5° 
 
 E'en at his last, with pardon be it spoke, 
 He cursed you both. 
 
 Sup. He cursed us ? 'las, good soul ! 
 
 Amh. [Aside.] It was not in our powers, but the duke's 
 pleasure. 
 Finely dissembled a both sides, sweet fate ; 
 
 happy opportunity [ 
 
 Enter LussuRioso 
 
 Lus. Now, my lords. 
 
 Amh. and Sup. O ! — 
 
 Ltis. Why do you shun me, brothers ? 
 
 You may come nearer now : 
 The savour of the prison has forsook me.. 
 
 1 thank such kind lords as yourselves, I'm free. 
 Amb. Alive ! 60 
 Sup. In health ! 
 
396 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act il 
 
 Amb. Released ! 
 We were both e'en amazed with joy to see it. j 
 
 Lus. I am much to thank to you. \ 
 
 Sup. Faith, we spared no tongue unto my lord th 
 duke. 
 
 Amb. I know your deHvery, brother, ; 
 
 Had not been half so sudden but for us. 
 
 Sup. O, how we pleaded ! 
 
 Lus. Most deserving brothers '■ 
 
 In my best studies I will think of it. [Exi 
 
 Amb. O death and vengeance ! 
 
 Sup. Hell and torments ! 
 
 Amb. Slave, cam'st thou to delude us ? r 
 
 Of. Delude you, my lords ? 
 
 Sup. Aye, villain, where's his head now ? 
 
 Of. Why here, my lord 
 
 Just after his delivery, you both came 
 With warrant from the duke to behead your brother. 
 
 Amb. Aye, our brother, the duke's son. 
 
 Of. The duke's son, my lord, had his release befor 
 you came. 
 
 Amb. Whose head's that, then? 
 
 Of. His whom you left command for, your ow 
 brother's. 
 
 Amb. Our brother's ? O furies ! i 
 
 Sup. Plagues ! 
 
 Amb. Confusions ! 
 
 Sup. Darkness ! 
 
 Amb. Devils ! 
 
 Sup. Fell it out so accursedly ? 
 
 Amb. Sodamnedly? 
 
 Sup. Villain, I'll brain thee with it. 
 
 Of. O my good lord ! 
 
 Sup. The devil overtake thee ! - 
 
 Amb. O fatal ! ' " 9 
 
 Sup. O prodigious to our bloods ! 
 
 Amb. Did we dissemble ? 
 
SCENE V] THE REVENGERS TRAGEDY 397 
 
 Sup. Did we make our tears women for thee ? 
 
 Amb. Laugh and rejoice for thee ? 
 
 Sup. Bring warrant for thy death ? 
 
 Amb. Mock off thy head ? 
 
 Sup. You had a trick : you had a wile, forsooth, 
 
 Amb. A murrain meet 'em; there's none of these 
 wiles that ever come to good : I see now, there's nothing 
 sure in mortality, but mortality. 100 
 
 Well, no more words: shalt be revenged, i' faith. 
 Come, throw off clouds ; now, brother, think of vengeance, 
 And deeper-settled hate ; sirrah, sit fast, 
 We'll pull down all, but thou shalt down at last. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
ACT THE FOURTH 
 
 Scene I 
 
 The Precincts of the Palace 
 
 Enter LussuRioso ivith Hippolito 
 
 Lus. Hippolito ! 
 
 Hip. My lord, 
 Has your good lordship aught to command me in ? 
 
 Liis. I prithee, leave us ! 
 
 Hip. How's this ? come and leave us ! 
 
 Lus. Hippolito ! 
 
 Hip. Your honour, I stand ready for any duteou 
 employment. 
 
 Lus. Heart ! what mak'st thou here ? 
 
 Hip. A pretty lordly humour ! 
 He bids me be present to depart ; something 
 Has stung his honour. ^ 
 
 Lus. Be nearer ; draw nearer : 
 Ye 're not so good, methinks ; I'm angry with you. 
 
 Hip. With me, my lord ? I'm angry with myself for" i 
 
 Lus. You did prefer a goodly fellow to me : 
 Twas wittily elected ; 'twas. I thought 
 He had been a \'illain, and he proves a knave — 
 To me a knave. 
 
 Hip. I I chose him for the best, my lord : 
 
 'Tis much my sorrow, if neglect in him 
 Breed discontent in you. 
 
 Lus. Neglect ! 'twas will. Judge of it. 2 
 
 Firmly to tell of an incredible act, 
 
 398 
 
SCENE I] THE REVENGER^S TRAGEDY 399 
 
 Not to be thought, less to be spoken of, 
 'Twixt my stepmother and the bastard ; oh ! 
 Incestuous sweets between 'em. 
 
 Hip. Fie, my lord ! 
 
 Lus. I, in kind loyalty to my father's forehead, 
 Made this a desperate arm ; and in that fury 
 Committed treason on the lawful bed. 
 And with my sword e'en rased my father's bosom, 
 For which I was within a stroke of death." 
 
 Hip. Alack ! I'm sorry. — [Aside.] 'Sfoot, just upon 
 the stroke, 3° 
 
 Jars in my brother ; 'twill be villainous music. 
 
 Enter Vendice, disguised 
 
 Ven. My honoured lord. 
 
 Lus. Away ! prithee, forsake us : hereafter we'll 
 not know thee. 
 
 Ven. Not know me, my lord ! your lordship cannot 
 choose. 
 
 Lus. Begone, I say : thou art a false knave. 
 
 Ven. Why, the easier to be known, my lord. 
 
 Lus. Pish ! I shall prove too bitter, with a word 
 Make thee a perpetual prisoner, 40 
 
 jAnd lay this iron age upon thee.° 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] Mum I 
 For there's a doom would make a woman dumb. 
 Missing the bastard — next him — the wind's come 
 
 about : 
 Now 'tis my brother's turn to stay, mine to go out. [Exit. 
 
 Lus. He has greatly moved me.° 
 
 Hip. Much to blame, i' faith. 
 
 Lus. But I'll recover, to his ruin. 'Twas told me lately, 
 r know not whether falsely, that you'd a brother. 
 
 Hip. Who, I ? yes, my good lord, I have a brother. 
 
 Lus. How chance the court ne'er saw him ? of what 
 nature ? 5° 
 
400 THK REVENCER'S TRAC^EDY [act ] 
 
 How does he apply his hours ? 
 
 Hip. Faith, to curse fates 
 Who, as he thinks, ordained him to be poor — 
 Keeps at home, full of want and discontent. 
 
 Lus. [Aside] There's hope in him ; for discontent an 
 want 
 Is the best clay to mould a villain of. — 
 Hippolito, wish him repair to us : 
 If there be ought in him to please our blood, 
 For thy sake we'll advance him, and build fair 
 His meanest fortunes ; for it is in us ' 
 
 To rear up towers from cottages." 
 
 Hip. It is so, my lord : he will attend your honour ; 
 But he's a man in whom much melancholy dwells. 
 
 Lus. Why, the better ; bring him to court. 
 
 Hip. With willingness and speed. — 
 [-i^/Jt'.] W'hom he cast off e'en now, must now' succeed. 
 Brother, disguise must off ; 
 In thine own shape now I'll prefer thee to him : 
 How strangely does himself work to undo him ! " [Exi 
 
 Lus. This fellow will come fitly ; he shall kill 
 That other slave, that did abuse my spleen, 
 And made it swell to treason. I have put 
 Much of my heart into him ; he must die. 
 He that knows great men's secrets, and proves slight, 
 That man ne'er Uves to see his beard turn white. 
 Aye, he shall speed him : I'll employ the brother ; 
 Slaves are but nails to drive out one another. 
 He being of black condition," suitable 
 To want and ill-content, hope of preferment 
 Will grind him to an edge. 
 
 Enter Nobles 
 
 ist Noble. Good days unto your honour. 
 Lus. My kind lords, I do return the like. 
 2fu] Noble. Saw vou mv lord the duke ? 
 
SCENE II] THE REVENGER^S TRAGEDY 4OI 
 
 Lus. My lord and father ! is he from court ? 
 
 ist Noble. He's sure from court ; 
 But where — which way his pleasure took, we know not, 
 Nor can we hear on't. 
 
 Lus. Here come those should tell. 
 
 Saw you my lord and father ? 
 
 yd Noble. Not since two hours before noon, my lord, 
 And then he privately rode forth. 90 
 
 Lus. O, he's rid forth. 
 
 ist Noble. 'Twas wondrous privately. 
 
 2nd Noble. There's none i' th' court had any knowledge 
 on't. 
 
 Lus. His grace is old and sudden : 'tis no treason 
 To say the duke, my father, has a humour, 
 Or such a toy about him ; what in us 
 Would appear light, in him seems virtuous-. 
 
 yd Noble. 'Tis oracle, my lord. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II 
 
 An Apartment in the Palace 
 Enter Vendice, out of his disguise, and Hippolito 
 
 Hip. So, so, all's as it should be, y'are yourself. 
 
 Ven. How that great villain puts me to my shifts ! 
 
 Hip. He that did lately in disguise reject thee, 
 Shall, now thou art thyself, as much respect thee. 
 . Ven. 'Twill be the quainter fallacy." But, brother, 
 'Sfoot, what use will he put me to now, think'st thou ? 
 
 Hip. Nay, you must pardon me in that : I know not. 
 He has some employment for you : but what 'tis, 
 He and his secretary fthe devil) know best. 
 
 Ven. Well, I must suit my tongue to his desires, 10 
 W^hat colour soe'er they be ; hoping at last 
 To pile up all my wishes on his breast. 
 
 Hip. Faith, brother, he himself shows the way. 
 
402 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act i\ 
 
 Ven. Now the duke is dead, the realm is clad in clay. 
 His death being not yet known, under his name 
 The people still are governed. Well, thou his son 
 Art not long-lived : thou shalt not joy his death. 
 To kill thee, then, I should most honour thee; 
 For 'twould stand firm in every man's belief, 
 Thou'st a kind child, and only died'st with grief. 2 
 
 Hip. You fetch about well ; but let's talk in present. 
 How will you appear in fashion different, 
 As well as in apparel, to make all things possible ? 
 If you be but once tripped, we fall for ever. 
 It is not the least policy to be doubtful ; ^ 
 You must change tongue : familiar was your first. 
 
 Ven. Why, I'll bear me in some strain of melancholy, 
 And string myself with heavy-sounding wire, 
 Like such an instrument, that speaks merry things sadly 
 
 Hip. Then 'tis as I meant ; 
 I gave you out at first in discontent. 
 
 Ven. I'll tune myself, and then — 
 
 Hip. 'Sfoot, here he comes. Hast thought upon't ? 
 
 Ven. Salute him ; fear not me. 
 
 Enter Lussurioso 
 
 Lus. Hippolito ! 
 
 Hip. Your lordship — 
 
 Lus. What's he yonder ? 
 
 Hip. 'Tis Vendice, my discontented brother. 
 Whom, 'cording to your will, I've brought to court. 
 
 Lus. Is that thy brother ? Beshrew me, a good pres 
 ence; 
 I wonder he has been from the court so long. 4 
 
 Come nearer. 
 
 Hip. Brother ! Lord Lussurioso, the duke's son. 
 
 Lus. Be more near to us ; welcome ; nearer yet. 
 
 Ven. How don you ? gi' you good den.° 
 
 [Takes of his hat and bow: 
 
SCENE II] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 403 
 
 Lus. We thank thee. 
 How strangely such a coarse homely salute 
 Shows in the palace, where we greet in fire, 
 Nimble and desperate tongues ! should we name 
 God in a salutation," 'twould ne'er be stood on ; — 
 
 Heaven ! 
 Tell me, what has made thee so melancholy ? 5° 
 
 Ven. Why, going to law. 
 
 Lus. Why, will that make a man melancholy ? 
 
 Ven. Yes, to look long upon ink and black buck- 
 ram.'^ I went me to law in anno quadragesimo secundo, 
 and I waded out of it in anno sexagesimo tertio. 
 
 Lus. What, three-and-twenty years in law ? 
 
 Ven. I have known those that have been five-and-fifty, 
 and all about pullen and pigs. 
 
 Lus. May it be possible such men should breathe, 
 To vex the terms ^ so much ? 60 
 
 Ven. 'Tis food to some, my lord. There are old 
 men at the present, that are so poisoned with the affec- 
 tation of law- words (having had many suits canvassed"), 
 that their common talk is nothing but Barbary Latin. 
 They cannot so much as pray but in law, that their sins 
 may be removed with a writ of error, and their souls 
 fetched up to Heaven with a sasarara." 
 
 Lus. It seems most strange to me ; 
 Yet all the world meets round in the same bent : 
 Where the heart's set, there goes the tongue's consent. 70 
 How dost apply thy studies, fellow ? 
 
 Ven. Study? why, to think how a great rich man 
 !s| lies a-dying, and a poor cobbler tolls the bell for him. 
 How he cannot depart the world, and see the great chest 
 stand before him ; when he lies speechless, how he will 
 point you readily to all the boxes ; and when he is past 
 all memory, as the gossips guess, then thinks he of for- 
 feitures and obligations ; nay, when to all men's hearings 
 he hurls and rattles in the throat, he's busy threatening 
 E'sj his poor tenants. And this would last me now some seven 
 
404 THE REVENGER^S TRAGEDY [act iv; 
 
 years' thinking, or thereabouts. But I have a conceit; 
 a-coming in picture upon this ; I draw it myself, which, i' 
 faith, la, I'll present to your honour ; you shall not choose 
 but Uke it, for your honour shall give me nothing for it. 84 
 
 Lus. Nay, you mistake me, then. 
 For I am published bountiful enough. 
 Let's taste of your conceit. 
 
 Ven. In picture, my Lord ? 
 
 Lus. Aye, in picture. 
 
 Ven. Marry, this it is — ''A usuring father to be 
 boiling in hell, and his son and heir with a whore dancing 
 over him." 92 
 
 Hip. [Aside.] He has pared him to the quick. 
 
 Lus. The conceit's pretty, i' faith ; 
 But, take't upon my life, 'twill ne'er be liked. 
 
 Ven. No ? why, I'm sure the whore will be liked well 
 enough. 
 
 Hip. [Aside.] Aye, if she were out o' the picture, he'd 
 like her then himself. 
 
 Ven. And as for the son and heir, he shall be an 
 eyesore to no young revellers, for he shall be drawn in 
 cloth-of-gold breeches. i« 
 
 Lus. And thou hast put my meaning in the pockets, 
 And canst not draw that out ? ^ My thought was this : 
 To see the picture of a usuring father 
 BoiUng in hell — our rich men would never like it. 
 
 Ven. O, true, I cry you heartily mercy, 
 I know the reason, for some of them had rather 
 Be damned in deed than damned in colours. ° 
 
 Lus. [Aside.] A parlous melancholy! he has wit enough 
 To murder any man, and I'll give him means. — i 
 
 I think thou art ill-moneyed ? 
 
 Ven. Money ! ho, ho ! 
 'T has been my want so long, 'tis now my scoff : 
 I've e'en forgot what colour silver's of. 
 
 Lus. [Aside.] It hits as I could wish. 
 
 Ven. I get good clothes 
 
SCENE II] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 405 
 
 Of those that dread my humour ; and for table-room 
 I feed on those that cannot be rid of me. 
 
 Lus. Somewhat to set thee up withal. 
 
 [Gives him money. 
 
 Ven. O mine eyes ! 120 
 
 Lus. How now, man ? 
 
 Ven. Almost struck blind ; 
 This bright unusual shine to me seems proud ; 
 I dare not look till the sun be in a cloud. 
 
 Lus. I think I shall affect his melancholy, 
 How are they now ? 
 
 Ven. The better for your asking. 
 
 Lus. You shall be better yet, if you but fasten 
 Truly on my intent. Now y'are both present, 
 I will unbrace such a close private villain 
 Unto your vengeful swords, the like ne'er heard of, 13° 
 Who hath disgraced you much, and injured us. 
 
 Hip. Disgraced us, my lord ? 
 
 Lus. Aye, Hippolito. 
 
 I kept it here till now, that both your angers 
 Might meet him at once. 
 
 Ven. I'm covetous 
 
 To know the villain. 
 
 Lus. You know him : that slave-pander, 
 Piato, whom we threatened last 
 With irons in perpetual 'prisonment. 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] All this is I. 
 
 Hip. Is't he, my lord ? 140 
 
 Lus. I'll tell you ; you first preferred him to me. 
 
 Ven. Did you, brother ? 
 
 Hip. I did indeed. 
 
 Lais. And the ungrateful villain, 
 To quit that kindness, strongly wrought with me — 
 Being, as you see, a likely man for pleasure — " 
 With jewels to corrupt your virgin sister. 
 
 Hip. O villain ! 
 
 Ven. He shall surely die that did it. 
 
406 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act iv 
 
 Lus. I, far from thinking any virgin harm, 
 Especially knowing her to be as chaste 150 
 
 As that part which scarce suffers to be touched — 
 The eye — would not endure him. 
 
 Ven. Would you not, my lord ? 
 
 'Twas wondrous honourably done. 
 
 Lus. But with some fine frowns kept him out. 
 
 Ven. Out, slave ! ° 
 
 Lus. What did me he, but in revenge of that. 
 Went of his own free will to make infirm 
 Your sister's honour (whom I honour with my soul 
 For chaste respect °) and not prevailing there 
 (As 'twas but desperate folly to attempt it). 
 In mere spleen, by the way, waylays your mother, 160 
 Whose honour being a coward as it seems, 
 Yielded by little force. 
 
 Ven. Coward indeed ! 
 
 Lus. He, proud of this advantage (as he thought), 
 Brought me this news for happy. But I, Heaven for- 
 give me for't! — 
 
 Ven. What did your honour ? 
 
 Lus. In rage pushed him from me, 
 
 Trampled beneath his throat, spurned him, and 
 
 bruised : 
 Indeed I was too cruel, to say troth. 
 
 Hip. Most nobly managed ! 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] Has not Heaven an ear ? is all the light- 
 ning wasted ? i 
 
 Lus. If I now were so impatient in a modest cause, 170 
 What should you be ? 
 
 Ven. Full mad : he shall not live 
 
 To see the moon change. 
 
 Lus. He's about the palace ; 
 
 Hippolito, entice him this way, that thy brother 
 May take full mark of him. 
 
 Hip. Heart ! that shall not need, my lord : 
 I can direct him so far. 
 
 Fi 
 
SCENE II] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 407 
 
 Lus. Yet for my hate's sake, 
 Go, wind him this way. I'll see him bleed myself. 
 
 Hip. [Aside.] What now, brother ? 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] Nay, e'en what you will — y'are put 
 to't, brother. 180 
 
 Hip. [Aside.] An impossible task, I'll swear, 
 To bring him hither, that's already here. [Exit. 
 
 Lus. Thy name? I have forgot it. 
 
 Ven. Vendice, my lord. 
 
 Lus. 'Tis a good name that. 
 
 Ven. Aye, a revenger. 
 
 Lus. It does betoken courage ; thou shouldst be val- 
 iant. 
 And kill thine enemies. 
 
 Ven. That's my hope, my lord. 
 
 Lus. This slave is one. 
 
 Ven. I'll doom him. 
 
 Lus. Then I'll praise thee. 
 
 Do thou observe me best, and I'll best raise thee. 
 
 Re-enter Hippolito 
 
 Ven. Indeed, I thank you. 
 
 Lus. Now, Hippolito, where's the slave-pander ? 190 
 
 Hip. Your good lordship 
 Would have a loathsome sight of him, much offensive. 
 He's not in case now to be seen, my lord. 
 The worst of all the deadly sins is in him — 
 That beggarly damnation, drunkenness. 
 ' Lus. Then he's a double slave. 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] 'Twas well conveyed upon a sudden wit. 
 
 Lus. What, are you both 
 Firmly resolved ? I'll see him dead myself. 
 
 Ven. Or else let not us live. 200 
 
 Lus. You may direct your brother to take note of him. 
 
 Hip. I shall. ' 
 
 Lus. Rise but in this, and you shall never fall. 
 
408 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act iv 
 
 Ven. Your honour's vassals. 
 
 Lus. [Aside.] This was wisely carried. 
 
 Deep policy in us makes fools of such : 
 Then must a slave die, when he knows too much. [Exit, 
 
 Ven. O thou almighty patience ! 'tis my wonder 
 That such a fellow, impudent and wicked. 
 Should not be cloven as he stood ; 
 
 Or with a secret wind burst open ! 210 
 
 Is there no thunder left : or is't kept up 
 In stock for heavier vengeance ? [Thunder] there it goes ! 
 
 Hip. Brother, we lose ourselves. 
 
 Ven. But I have found it ; ° 
 
 'Twill hold, 'tis sure ; thanks, thanks to any spirit, 
 That mingled it 'mongst my inventions. 
 
 Hip. What is't? 
 
 Ven. 'Tis sound and good ; thou shalt partake it ; 
 I'm hired to kill myself. 
 
 Hip. True. 
 
 Ven. Prithee, mark it ; 
 
 And the old duke being dead, but not conveyed," 
 For he's already missed too, and you know 
 Murder will peep out of the closest husk — 
 
 Hip. Most true. 
 
 Ven. What say you then to this device ? 
 
 If we dressed up the body of the duke ? 
 
 Hip. In that disguise of yours ? 
 
 Ven. Y'are quick, y' have reached it. 
 
 Hip. I like it wondrously. 
 
 Ven. And being in drink, as you have published him. 
 To lean him on his elbow, as if sleep had caught him 
 Which claims most interest in such sluggy men ? 
 
 Hip. Good yet ; but here's a doubt ; 
 We, thought by the duke's son to kill that pander, 23c 
 Shall, when he is known, be thought to kill the duke. 
 
 Ven. Neither, O thanks ! it is substantial : ° Ii 
 
 For that disguise being on him which I wore, 
 It will be thought I, which he calls the pander, did kil 
 
 !0 
 
 i 
 
SCENE III] THE REVENGER^S TRAGEDY 409 
 
 the duke, and fled away in his apparel, leaving him so dis- 
 guised to avoid swift pursuit. 
 Hip. Firmer and firmer. 
 
 IVen. Nay, doubt not, 'tis in grain : ° I warrant it 
 holds colour. 
 Hip. Let's about it. 
 Ven. By the way, too, now I think on't, brother, 240 
 Let's conjure that base devil out of our mother. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III 
 A Corridor in the Palace 
 
 I Enter the Duchess, arm in arm with Spurio, looking 
 lasciviously on her. After them, enter Supervacuo, 
 ivith a rapier, running; Ambitioso stops him 
 
 Spu. Madam, unlock yourself ; 
 Should it be seen, your arm would be suspected. 
 
 Duch. Who is't that dares suspect or this or these ? 
 May not we deal our favours where we please ? 
 
 Spu. I'm confident you may.'^ 
 
 [Exeunt Duchess and Spurio. 
 
 Amh. 'Sfoot, brother, hold. 
 
 Sup. Wouldst let the bastard shame us ? 
 
 Amh. Hold, hold, brother ! there's fitter time than 
 now. 
 
 Sup. Now, when I see it ! 
 
 Amh. 'Tis too much seen already. 
 
 Sup. Seen and known ; 
 
 The nobler she's, the baser is she grown. 10 
 
 Amh. If she were bent lasciviously (the fault 
 Of mighty women, that sleep soft°) — O death ! 
 Must she needs choose such an unequal sinner. 
 To make all worse ? — 
 
 Sup. A bastard ! the duke's bastard ! shame heaped 
 ill on shame ! 
 
410 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act iv 
 
 Amb. O our disgrace ! 
 Most women have small waists the world throughout ; 
 But their desires are thousand miles about. 
 
 Sup. Come, stay not here, let's after, and prevent, 
 Or else they'll sin faster than we'll repent. [Exetmt. 
 
 Scene IV 
 
 A Room in Gratiana's House 
 
 Enter Vendice and Hippolito, bringing out Gratiana 
 by the shoulders, and with daggers in their hands 
 
 Ven. O thou, for whom no name is bad enough ! 
 
 Gra. What mean my sons ? what, will you murder me ?| 
 
 Ven. Wicked, unnatural parent ! 
 
 Hip. Fiend of women ! 
 
 Gra. O ! are sons turned monsters ? help ! 
 
 Ven. In vain, 
 
 Gra. Are you so barbarous to set iron nipples ° 
 Upon the breast that gave you suck ? 
 
 Ven. That breast 
 
 Is turned to quarled poison. ° 
 
 Gra. Cut not your days for't ! " am not I your mother ' 
 
 Ven. Thou dost usurp that title now by fraud, 
 For in that shell of mother breeds a bawd. n 
 
 Gra. A bawd ! O nam^e far loathsomer than hell ! 
 
 Hip. It should be so, knew'st thou thy office well. 
 
 Gra. I hate it. 
 
 Ven. Ah ! is't possible ? thou only ? ^ Powers on high 
 That women should dissemble when they die ! 
 
 Gra. Dissemble ! 
 
 Ven. Did not the duke's son direct 
 
 A fellow of the world's condition hither. 
 That did corrupt all that was good in thee ? 
 Made thee uncivilly forget thyself. 
 And work our sister to his lust ? 
 
SCENE IV] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 411 
 
 Gra. Who, I ? 
 
 That had been monstrous. I defy that man 
 For any such intent ! none Kves so pure, 
 But shall be soiled with slander. Good son, believe it not. 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] O, I'm in doubt, 
 Whether I am myself, or no — 
 Stay, let me look again upon this face. 
 Who shall be saved, when mothers have no grace ? 
 
 Hip. 'Twould m.ake one half despair. 
 
 Ven. I was the man. 
 
 Defy me now ; let's see, do't modestly. 
 
 Gra. O hell unto my soul ! ' 3° 
 
 Ven. In that disguise, I, sent from the duke's son, 
 Tried you, and found you base metal, 
 As any villain might have done. 
 
 Gra. O, no, 
 
 No tongue but yours could have bewitched me so. 
 
 Ven. nimble in damnation, quick in tune ! 
 There is no devil could strike fire so soon : 
 I am confuted in a word. 
 
 Gra. O sons, forgive me ! to myself I'll prove more 
 true; 
 You that should honour me, I kneel to you. 
 
 [Kneels and weeps. 
 
 Ven. A mother to give aim to her own daughter ! 4° 
 
 Hip. True, brother ; how far beyond nature 'tis. 
 
 Ven. Nay, an you draw tears once, go you to bed ; 
 We will make iron blush and change to red. 
 Brother, it rains. 'Twill spoil your dagger : house it. 
 
 Hip. 'Tis done. 
 
 Ven. V faith, 'tis a sweet shower, it does much good. 
 The fruitful grounds and meadows of her soul 
 Have been long dry : pour down, thou blessed dew ! 
 Rise, mother ; troth, this shower has made you higher ! 
 
 Gra. O you Heavens ! take this infectious spot out 
 of my soul, ^ 50 
 
 I'll rinse it in seven waters of mine eyes ! 
 
412 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act iv 
 
 Make my tears salt enough to taste of grace. 
 
 To weep is to our sex naturally given : 
 
 But to weep truly, that's a gift from Heaven. 
 
 Ven. Nay, I'll kiss you now. Kiss her, brother : 
 Let's marry her to our souls, wherein's no lust, 
 And honourably love her. 
 
 Hip. Let it be. 
 
 Ven. For honest women are so seld and rare, 
 'Tis good to cherish those poor few that are. 
 
 you of easy wax ! ° do but imagine 60 
 Now the disease has left you, how leprously 
 
 That office would have dinged unto your forehead ! 
 All mothers that had any graceful hue 
 Would have worn masks to hide their face at you : 
 It would have grown to this — at your foul name. 
 Green-coloured maids ° would have turned red with 
 shame. 
 
 Hip. And then our sister, full of hire and baseness — 
 
 Ven. There had been boihng lead again, 
 The duke's son's great concubine ! 
 
 A drab of state, a cloth-o'-silver slut, 7° 
 
 To have her train borne up, and her soul trail i' the dirt! 
 
 Hip. Great, to be miserably great; rich, to be eter- 
 nally wretched. 
 
 Ven. O common madness ! 
 Ask but the thrivingest harlot in cold blood. 
 She'd give the world to make her honour good. 
 Perhaps you'll say, but only to the duke's son 
 In private ; why she first begins with one, 
 Who afterward to thousands prove a whore : 
 '' Break ice in one place, it will crack in more." 
 
 Gra. Most certainly applied ! 80 
 
 Hip. O brother, you forget our business. 
 
 Ven. And well remembered ; joy's a subtle elf," 
 
 1 think man's happiest when he forgets himself. 
 Farewell, once dry, now holy- watered mead ; " 
 Our hearts wear feathers, that before wore lead. 
 
SCENE IV] THE REVENGER^S TRAGEDY 413 
 
 Gra. I'll give you this — that one I never knew 
 Plead better for and 'gainst the devil than you. 
 
 Ven. You make me proud on't. 
 
 Hip. Commend us in all virtue to our sister. 
 
 Ven. Aye, for the love of Heaven, to that true maid. 90 
 
 Gra. With my best words. 
 
 Ven. Why, that was motherly said. 
 
 [Exeunt Vendice and Hippolito. 
 
 Gra. I wonder now, what fury did transport me ! 
 I feel good thoughts begin to settle in me. 
 O, with what forehead can I look on her, 
 Whose honour I've so impiously beset ? 
 And here she comes — 
 
 Enter Castiza 
 
 Gas. Now, mother, you have wrought with me so 
 strongly, 
 That what for my advancement, as to calm 
 The trouble of your tongue, I am content. 
 
 Gra. Content, to what ? 
 
 Gas. To do as you have wished me ; 
 
 To prostitute my breast to the duke's son ; 10 1 
 
 And put myself to common usury. 
 
 Gra. I hope you will not so ! 
 
 Gas. Hope you I will not ? 
 
 That's not the hope you look to be saved in. 
 
 Gra. Truth, but it is. 
 
 Gas. Do not deceive yourself ; 
 
 I am as you, e'en out of marble wrought. 
 What would you now ? are ye not pleased yet with me ? 
 You shall not wish me to be more lascivious 
 Than I intend to be. 
 
 Gra. Strike not me cold. 
 
 Gas. How often have you charged me on your blessing 
 To be a cursed woman ? When you knew 1 1 1 
 
 Your blessing had no force to make me lewd, 
 
414 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act 
 
 You laid your curse upon me ; that did more, 
 The mother's curse is heavy ; where that fights, 
 Suns set in storm, and daughters lose their lights. 
 
 Gra. Good child, dear maid, if there be any spark 
 Of heavenly intellectual fire within thee, 
 O, let my breath revive it to a flame ! 
 Put not all out with woman's wilful follies. 
 I am recovered of that foul disease. 
 That haunts too many mothers ; kind, forgive me. 
 Make me not sick in health ! If then 
 My words prevailed, when they were wickedness. 
 How much more now, when they are just and good ? 
 
 Cas. I wonder what you mean ! are not you she, 
 For whose infect persuasions I could scarce 
 Kneel out my prayers, and had much ado 
 In three hours' reading to untwist so much 
 Of the black serpent as you wound about me ? 
 
 Gra. 'Tis unfruitful, child, and tedious to repeat i3' 
 What's past ; I'm now your present mother. 
 
 Cas. Tush ! now 'tis too late. 
 
 Gra. Bethink again : thou know'st not what thou say'st 
 
 Cas. No ! deny advancement ? treasure ? the duke' 
 son? 
 
 Gra. O, see ! I spoke those words, and now the] 
 poison me ! 
 What will the deed do then ? 
 Advancement ? true ; as high as shame can pitch ! 
 For treasure ; who e'er knew a harlot rich ? 
 Or could build by the purchase of her sin 
 An hospital to keep her bastards in ? 14 
 
 The duke's son ! O, when women are young courtiers 
 They are sure to be old beggars ; 
 To know the miseries most harlots taste, 
 Thou'dst wish thyself unborn, when thou art unchaste. 
 
 Cas. O mother, let me twine about your neck, 
 And kiss you, till my soul melt on your lips ! 
 I did but this to try you. 
 
SCENE IV] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 415 
 
 Gra. O, speak truth ! 
 
 Cas. Indeed I did but ; for no tongue has force 
 To alter me from honest. 
 
 If maidens would, men's words could have no power ; 15° 
 A virgin's honour is a crystal tower 
 Which (being weak) is guarded with good spirits ; 
 Until she basely yields, no ill inherits. 
 
 Gra. O happy child ! faith, and thy birth hath saved 
 me. 
 'Mong thousand daughters, happiest of all others : 
 Be thou a glass for maids, and I for mothers. [Exeunt. 
 
ACT THE FIFTH 
 
 Scene I 
 
 A Room in the Lodge. The Duke's corpse, dressed in 
 Vendice's disguise, lyi^ig on a couch 
 
 Enter Vendice and Hippolito 
 
 Ven. So, so, he leans well; take heed you wake him' 
 not, brother. 
 
 Hip. I warrant you my life for yours. 
 
 Ven. That's a good lay, for I must kill myself. 
 Brother, that's I, that sits for me: do you mark it? 
 And I must stand ready here to make away myself yonder. 
 I must sit to be killed, and stand to kill myself. I could 
 vary it not so little as thrice over again ; 't has some eight 
 returns, like Michaelmas term. 
 
 Hip. That's enow, o' conscience. 
 
 Ven. But, sirrah, does the duke's son come single ? lo 
 
 Hip. No ; there's the hell on't : his faith's too feeble 
 to go alone. He brings flesh-flies after him, that will 
 buzz against supper-time, and hum for his coming out. 
 
 Ven. Ah, the fly-flap of vengeance beat 'em to pieces! 
 Here was the sweetest occasion, the fittest hour, to have 
 made my revenge familiar with him ; show him the body 
 of the duke his father, and how quaintly he died, like a 
 politician, in hugger-mugger, made no man acquainted 
 with it; and in catastrophe slay him over his father's 
 breast. O, I'm mad to lose such a sweet opportunity ! 20 
 
 Hip. Nay, tush ! prithee, be content ! there's no 
 remedy present ; may not hereafter times open in as fair 
 faces as this ? 
 
 416 
 
SCENE I] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 417 
 
 Ven. They may, if they can paint so well. 
 
 Hip. Come now : to avoid all suspicion, let's forsake 
 this room, and be going to meet the duke's son. 
 
 Ven. Content : I'm for any weather. Heart ! step 
 close : here he comes. 
 
 Enter Lussurioso 
 
 Hip. My honoured lord ! 
 
 Lus. O me ! you both present ? 30 
 
 Ven. E'en newly, my lord, just as your lordship 
 entered now : afbout this place we had notice given he 
 should be, but' in some loathsome plight or other. 
 
 Hip. Came your honour private? 
 
 Lus. Private enough for this ; only a few 
 Attend my coming out. 
 
 Hip. [Aside.] Death rot those few ! 
 
 Lus. Stay, yonder's the slave. 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] Mass, there's the slave, indeed, my lord. 
 'Tis a good child : he calls his father a slave ! 
 
 Lus. Aye, that's the villain, the damned villain. 40 
 Softly. Tread easy. 
 
 Ve7t. Pah ! I warrant you, my lord, we'll stifle-in our 
 breaths. 
 
 Lus. That will do well : 
 Base rogue, thou sleepest thy last ; 'tis policy 
 To have him killed in's sleep ; for if he waked, 
 He would betray all to them. 
 
 Ven. But, my lord — 
 
 Lus. Ha, what say'st ? 
 
 Ven. Shall we kill him now he's drunk ? 
 
 Lus. Aye, best of all. 
 
 Ven. WTiy, then he will ne'er live to be sober. 50 
 
 Lus. No matter, let him reel to hell. 
 
 Ven. But being so full of Hquor, I fear he will put out 
 all the fire. 
 
 Lus. Thou art a mad beast. 
 
41 8 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act v 
 
 Ven. And leave none to warm your lordship's golls 
 withal; for he that dies drunk falls into hell-fire like a 
 bucket of water — qush, qush ! 
 
 Lus. Come, be ready : nake your swords : think of 
 your wrongs ; this slave has injured you. 
 
 Ven. Troth, so he has, and he has paid well for't. 60 
 
 Lus. Meet with him now. 
 
 Ve7t. You'll bear us out, my lord ? 
 
 Lus. Pooh ! am I a lord for nothing, think you ? 
 quickly now ! 
 
 Ven. Sa, sa, sa,° thump [Stabs the Duke's corpse] — 
 there he lies. 
 
 Lus. Nimbly done. — Ha ! O villains ! murderers ! 
 'Tis the old duke, my father. 
 
 Ven. That's a jest. 
 
 Ltis. What stiff and cold already ! 
 O, pardon me to call you from your names : 
 'Tis none of your deed. That villain Piato, 70 
 
 Whom you thought now to kill, has murdered 
 And left him thus disguised. 
 
 Hip. And not unlikely. 
 
 Ven. O rascal ! was he not ashamed 
 To put the duke into a greasy doublet ? 
 
 Lus. He has been stiff and cold — who knows how 
 long ? 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] Marry, that I do. 
 
 Lus. No words, I pray, of anything intended. 
 
 Ven. O my lord ! 
 
 Hip. I would fain have your lordship think that we 
 have small reason to prate. 80 
 
 Lus. Faith, thou say'st true ; I'll forthwith send to court 
 For all the nobles, bastard, duchess ; tell. 
 How here by miracle we found him dead. 
 And in his raiment that foul villain fled. 
 
 Ven. That will be the best way, my lord, 
 To clear us all ; let's cast about to be clear. 
 
 Lus. Ho ! Nencio, Sordido, and the rest ! 
 
SCENE I] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 419 
 
 Enter all of them 
 
 1st Ser. My lord ! 
 2 fid Ser. My lord ! 
 i Ltis. Be witnesses of a strange spectacle. 90 
 
 • Choosing for private conference that sad room, 
 We found the duke my father gealed in blood. 
 i 1st Ser. My lord the duke ! run, hie thee, Nencio. 
 [Startle the court by signifying so much. 
 I Ven. [Aside.] Thus much by wit a deep revenger 
 c can. 
 
 When murder's known, to be the clearest man."^ 
 We're farthest off, and with as bold an eye 
 Survey his body as the standers-by. 
 
 Lus. My royal father, too basely let blood 
 By a malevolent slave ! 100 
 
 Hip. [Aside.] Hark ! he calls thee slave again. 
 I Ven. [Aside.] He has lost : he may. 
 ' Lus. O sight ! look hither, see, his Hps are gnawn 
 With poison. 
 
 Ven. How ! his lips ? by the mass, they be. 
 
 O villain ! O rogue ! O slave ! O rascal ! 
 
 Hip. [Aside.] O good deceit ! he quits him with like 
 
 terms. 
 Amh. [Within.] Where? 
 Sup. [Within.] Which way ? • 
 
 Enter Ambitioso and Supervacuo, with Nobles and 
 Gentlemen 
 
 Amb. Over what roof hangs this prodigious comet 
 In deadly hre? ^ no 
 
 Lus. Behold, behold, my lords, the duke my father's 
 murdered by a vassal that owes this habit, and here left 
 disguised. 
 
420 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act \ 
 
 Enter Duchess and Spurio 
 
 Duch. My lord and husband ! 
 
 ist Noble. Reverend majesty ! 
 
 2nd Noble. I have seen these clothes often attending on 
 him. 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] That nobleman has been i' th' country, foi 
 He does not he. 
 
 Slip. Learn of our mother ; let's dissemble too : 
 I am glad he's vanished ; so, I hope, are you. 
 
 Amb. Aye, you may take my word for't. 
 
 Spu. Old dad dead ! 
 
 I, one of his cast sins, will send the Fates ] 
 
 Most hearty commendations by his own son ; 
 I'll tug in the new stream, till strength be done. 
 
 Lus. Where be those two that did affirm to us, 
 My lord the duke was privately rid forth ? 
 
 15/ Ge?it. O, pardon us, my lords; he gave that 
 charge — 
 Upon our lives, if he were missed at court, 
 To answer so ; he rode not anywhere ; 
 We left him private with that fellow here. 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] Confirmed. 130 
 
 Lus. O Heavens ! that false charge was his death. 
 Impudent beggars ! durst you to our face 
 Maintain such a false answer ? Bear him straight 
 To execution. 
 
 15/ Gent. My lord ! 
 
 Lus. Urge me no more in this ! 
 The excuse may be called half the murder. 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] You've sentenced well. 
 
 Lus. Away ; see it be done. 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] Could you not stick ? ° See what con- 
 fession doth ! 
 Who would not lie, when men are hanged for truth ? 14c 
 
 Hip. [Aside.] Brother, how happy is our vengeance ! 
 
SCENE I] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 42 1 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] Why, it hits past the apprehension of 
 Indifferent wits. 
 
 Lus. My lord, let post-horses be sent 
 Into all places to entrap the villain. 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] Post-horses, ha, ha ! 
 
 15/ Noble. My lord, we're something bol(^ to know our 
 duty. 
 Your father's accidentally departed ; 
 The titles that were due to him meet you. 
 
 Lus. [Aside.] Meet me ! I'm not at leisure, my good 
 lord. 150 
 
 I've many griefs to dispatch out o' the way. 
 Welcome, sweet titles ! — 
 Talk to me, my lords. 
 
 Of sepulchres and mighty emperors' bones ; 
 That's thought for me. 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] So one may see by this 
 
 How foreign markets go ; 
 
 Courtiers have feet o' the nines, and tongues o' the twelves; 
 They flatter dukes, and dukes flatter themselves. 
 
 2nd Noble. My lord, it is your shine must comfort us. 
 
 Lus. Alas ! I shine in tears, like the sun in April. 160 
 
 1st Noble. You're now my lord's grace. 
 
 Lus. My lord's grace ! I perceive you'll have it so. 
 
 2nd Noble. 'Tis but your own. 
 
 Lus. Then, Heavens, give me grace to be so ! 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] He prays well for himself. 
 
 ist Noble. Madam, all sorrows 
 Must run their circles into joys. No doubt but time 
 Will make the murderer bring forth himself. 
 
 ]^en. [Aside.] He were an ass then, i' faith. 
 
 15/ Noble. In the mean season, 170 
 
 Let us bethink the Ijitest funeral honours 
 Due to the duke's cold body. And withal, 
 Calling to memory our new happiness 
 Speed in his royal son : lords, gentlemen, 
 Prepare for revels. 
 
422 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act v 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] Revels ! 
 
 15/ Noble. Time hath several falls. 
 Griefs lift up joys : feasts put down funerals. 
 
 Lus. Come then, my lords, my favour's to you all. — 
 [Aside.] The duchess is suspected foully bent ; i8o 
 
 I'll begin dukedom with her banishment. 
 
 [Exeunt Lussurioso, Duchess, and Nobles. 
 
 Hip. Revels! 
 
 Ven. Aye, that's the word : we are firm yet ; 
 
 Strike one strain more, and then we crown our wit. 
 
 [Exeunt Vendice and Hippolito. 
 
 Spu. Well, have at the fairest mark — so said the 
 duke when he begot me ; 
 And if I miss his heart," or near about, 
 Then have at any ; a bastard scorns to be out. [Exit. 
 
 Sup. Notest thou that Spurio, brother ? 
 
 Amb. Yes, I note him to our shame. 
 
 Step. He shall not live : his hair shall not grow much 
 longer. In this time of revels, tricks may be set afoot. 
 Seest thou yon new moon ? it shall outlive the new duke 
 by much; this hand shall dispossess him. Then we're 
 mighty. 193 
 
 A mask is treason's licence, that build upon : ° 
 
 'Tis murder's best face, when a vizard's on. [Exit. 
 
 Amb. Is't so ? 'tis very good ! 
 And do you think to be duke then, kind brother ? 
 I'll see fair play ; drop one, and there Hes t'other. [Exit. 
 
 Scene II 
 
 A Room in Piero's House 
 
 Enter Vendice and Hippolito, with Piero and other 
 Lords 
 
 Ven. My lords, be all of music, strike old griefs into 
 other countries 
 
SCENE II] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 423 
 
 That flow in too much milk," and have faint Uvers, 
 Not daring to stab home their discontents. 
 Let our hid flam.es break out as fire, as hghtning, 
 To blast this \dUainous dukedom, vexed with sin ; 
 Wind up your souls to their full height again. 
 
 Piero. How ? 
 
 1st Lord. Which way ? 
 
 2nd Lord. Any way : our wrongs are such, 
 
 We cannot justly be revenged too much. 
 
 Ven. You shall have all enough. Revels are toward. 
 And those few nobles that have long suppressed you, 10 
 Are busied to the furnishing of a masque, 
 And do aft'ect to make a pleasant tale on't : 
 The masquing suits are fashioning : now comes in 
 That which must glad us all. We too take pattern 
 Of all those suits, the colour, trimming, fashion, 
 E'en to an undistinguished hair almost : 
 Then entering first, observing the true form, 
 Within a strain or two we shall find leisure 
 To steal our swords out handsomely ; 
 And when they think their pleasure sweet and good, 20 
 In midst of all their joys they shall sigh blood. 
 
 Piero. Weightily, effectually I 
 
 yd Lord. Before the t'other maskers come — 
 
 Ven. We're gone, ah done and past. 
 
 Piero. But how for the duke's guard ? 
 
 Ven. Let that alone ; 
 By one and one their strengths shafl be drunk down. 
 
 Hip. There are five hundred gentlemen in the action. 
 That will apply themselves, and not stand idle. 
 
 Piero. O, let us hug your bosoms ! 3° 
 
 Ven. Come, my lords. 
 Prepare for deeds : let other times have words. [Exeunt. 
 
424 THE REVENGER^S TRAGEDY [act v 
 
 Scene III 
 Hall of State in the Palace 
 
 In a dumb show, the possessing of the Young Duke with 
 all his Nobles ; sounding music. A furnished table is 
 brought forth; then enter the Duke and his Nobles to 
 the banquet. A blazing star appeareth 
 
 ist Noble. Many harmonious hours and choicest 
 pleasures 
 Fill up the royal number of your years ! 
 
 Lus. My lords, we're pleased to thank you, though we 
 know 
 'Tis but your duty now to wish it so. 
 
 ist Noble. That shine ° makes us all happy. - 
 
 yd Noble. His grace frowns. 
 
 2nd Noble. Yet we must say he smiles. 
 
 15/ Noble. I think we must. 
 
 Lus. [Aside.] That foul incontinent duchess we have 
 banished ; 
 The bastard shall not live. After these revels, 
 I'll begin strange ones : he and the stepsons 
 Shall pay their Hves for the first subsidies ; lo 
 
 We must not frown so soon, else't had been now. 
 
 ist Noble. My gracious lord, please you prepare for 
 pleasure. 
 The masque is not far off. 
 
 Lus. We are for pleasure. 
 
 Beshrew thee, what art thou ? thou mad'st me start ! 
 Thou hast committed treason. A blazing star ! 
 
 ist Noble. A blazing star ! O, where, my lord ? 
 
 Lus. Spy out. 
 
 2nd Noble. See, see, my lords, a wondrous dreadful 
 
 one 
 
 Lus. I am not pleased at that ill-knotted fire, 
 That bushing, staring star. Am I not duke ? 
 
JCENE III] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 425 
 
 It should not quake me now. Had it appeared 20 
 
 Before, it I might then have justly feared ; 
 But yet they say, whom art and learning weds," 
 When stars wear locks," they threaten great men's 
 
 heads : 
 Is it so ? you are read, my lords. 
 
 15/ Noble. May it please your grace, 
 
 It shows great anger. 
 
 Lhs. That doe^ not please our grace. . 
 
 2nd Noble. Yet here's the comfort, my lord : many 
 times, 
 SVhen it seems most near, it threatens farthest ofT. 
 
 Lus. Faith, and I think so too. 
 
 ist Noble. Beside, my lord, 
 
 iTou're gracefully established with the loves 
 3f all your subjects ; and for natural death, 30 
 
 I hope it will be threescore years a-coming. 
 
 Lies. True ? no more but threescore years ? 
 
 ist Noble. Fourscore, I hope, my lord. 
 
 2nd Noble. And fivescore, I. 
 
 yd Noble. But 'tis my hope, my lord, you shall ne'er 
 die, 
 
 Lus. Give me thy hand ; these others I rebuke : 
 He that hopes so is fittest for a duke : 
 Thou shaft sit next me ; take your places, lords ; 
 We're ready now for sports ; let 'em set on : 
 You thing ! " we shall forget you quite anon ! 
 
 yd Noble. I hear 'em coming, my lord. 4° 
 
 Ejiter the Masque of revengers : Vendice and Hippolito, 
 with two Lords 
 
 Lus. [Aside.] Ah, 'tis well ! 
 Brothers and bastard, you dance next in hell ! 
 They dance; at the end they steal out their swords, and kill 
 
 the four seated at the table. Thunder. ^2 
 
 Ven. Mark, thunder ! 
 
426 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act v 
 
 Dost know thy cue, thou big- voiced crier ? 
 Dukes' groans are thunder's watchwords. 
 
 Hip. So, my lords, you have enough. 
 
 Ven. Come, let's away, no lingering. 
 
 Hip. Follow ! go ! [Exeunt except Vendice. 
 
 Ven. No power is angry when the lustful die ; 
 When thunder claps, Heaven Hkes the tragedy. [Exit. 
 
 Lus. 0,0! 51 
 
 Enter the Masque of intended murderers: Ambitioso, 
 SuPERVACUO, Spurio, and a Lord, coming in dancing. 
 LussiiRioso recovers a little in voice, groans, and calls, 
 "A guard ! treason !" at which the Dancers start out of 
 their measure, and, turning towards the table, find them' 
 all to be murdered i 
 
 Spu. Whose groan was that ? 
 Lus. Treason ! a guard ! 
 
 Amb. How now ? all murdered ! 
 Sup. Murdered ! 
 3rJ Lord. And those his nobles ? 
 Amb. Here's a labour saved ; 
 
 I thought to have sped him. 'Sblood, how came this ? 
 Spu. Then I proclaim myself ; now I am duke. 
 Amb. Thou duke ! brother, thou hest. 
 Spu. Slave ! so dost thou. [Kills Ambitioso. 
 
 2,rd Lord. Base villain ! hast thou slain my lord and 
 master ? [Stabs Spurio. 60 
 
 Re-enter Vendice and Hippolito and the two Lords 
 
 Ven. Pistols ! treason ! murder ! Help ! guard my 
 lord the duke ! 
 
 Enter Antonio and Guard 
 
 Hip. Lay hold upon this traitor. 
 That Du. O ! 
 
SCENE III] THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 427 
 
 Ven. Alas ! the duke is murdered. 
 
 Hip. And the nobles. 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] Surgeons ! surgeons ! Heart ! does he 
 breathe so long ? 
 
 A nt. A piteous tragedy ! able to make 
 An old man's eyes bloodshot. 
 
 Lus. O! 
 
 Ven. [Aside.] Look to my lord the duke. A vengeance 
 throttle him ! 
 Confess, thou murderous and unhallowed man, 70 
 
 Didst thou kill all these ? 
 
 yd Lord. None but the bastard, I. 
 
 Ven. How came the duke slain, then ? 
 
 yd Lord. We found him so. 
 
 Lus. O \dllain ! 
 
 Ven. Hark ! 
 
 Lus. Those in the masque did murder us. 
 
 Ven. La you now, sir — 
 marble impudence ! will you confess now ? 
 
 yd Lord. 'Sblood, 'tis all false. 
 
 Ant. Away with that foul monster, 
 
 Dipped in a prince's blood. 
 
 yd Lord. Heart ! 'tis a He. 81 
 
 Ant. Let him have bitter execution. 
 
 Ven. New marrow ! no, I cannot be expressed." 
 How fares my lord the duke ? 
 
 Lus. Farewell to all ; 
 
 He that climbs highest has the greatest fall. 
 My tongue is out of office. 
 
 Veil. Air, gentlemen, sir. 
 Now thou'lt not prate on't, 'twas Vendice murdered thee. 
 
 [Whispers in his ear. 
 
 Lus. O! 
 
 Ven. Murdered thy father. [Whispers. 
 
 Lus. O! [Dies. 
 
 Ven. And I am he — tell nobody : [Whispers] So, so, 
 the duke's departed. 92 
 
428 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY [act \ 
 
 Ant. It was a deadly hand that wounded him. 
 The rest, ambitious who should rule and sway 
 After his death, were so made all away. 1 
 
 Ven. My lord was unlikely — 
 
 Hip. Now the hope 
 Of Italy lies in your reverend years. 
 
 Ven. Your hair v/ill make the silver age again, 
 When there were fewer, but more honest men. lo 
 
 Ant. The burthen's weighty, and will press age down 
 May I so rule, that Heaven may keep the crown ! 
 
 Ven. The rape of your good lady has been quitted 
 With death on death. 
 
 A7it. Just is the law above. 
 
 But of all things it put me most to wonder 
 How the old duke came murdered ! 
 
 Ven. O my lord ! 
 
 Ant. It was the strangehest carried: I've not hearc 
 of the like. 
 
 Hip. 'Twas all done for the best, my lord. 
 
 Ven. All for your grace's good. We may be bold tc 
 speak it now, 
 'Twas somewhat witty carried, though we say it — 
 'Twas we two murdered him.. 
 
 Ant. You two ? 
 
 Ven. None else, i' faith, my lord. Nay, 'twas well 
 managed. 
 
 Ant. Lay hands upon those villains ! 
 
 Ven. How ! on us ? 
 
 Ant. Bear 'em to speedy execution. 
 
 Ven. Heart ! was't not for your good, my lord ? 
 
 Ant. My good ! Away with 'em : such an old man as 
 he! 
 You, that would murder him, would murder me. 
 
 Ven. Is't come about ? 
 
 Hip. 'Sfoot, brother, you begun 
 
 Ven. May not we set as well as the duke's son ? 
 Thou hast no conscience, are we not revenged ? 
 
SCENE III] THE REVENGER^S TRAGEDY 429 
 
 Is there one enemy left alive amongst those ? 
 'Tis time to die, when we're ourselves our foes : 
 When murderers shut deeds close, this curse does seal 'em : 
 If none disclose 'em, they themselves reveal 'em ! 
 This murder might have slept in tongueless brass ° 
 But for ourselves, and the world died an ass. 
 Now I remember too, here was Piato 
 Brought forth a kna\dsh sentence once ; 
 No doubt (said he), but time 130 
 
 Will make the murderer bring forth himself. 
 'Tis well he died ; he was a witch. 
 And now, my lord, since we are in for ever. 
 This work was ours, which else might have been shpped ! 
 And if we hst, we could have nobles cHpped,'^ 
 And go for less than beggars ; but we hate 
 To bleed so cowardly : we have enough, 
 I' faith, we're well, our mother turned, our sister true. 
 We die after a nest of dukes. Adieu ! [Exeuitt. 
 
 Ant. How subtlely was that murder closed ! 140 
 
 Bear up 
 
 Those tragic bodies : 'tis a heavy season ; 
 Pray Heaven their blood may wash away all treason ! 
 
 [Exi^t. 
 
NOTES 
 
 Figures in black type refer to pages ; those in light face to lines. 
 
 THE WHITE DEVIL 
 
 28. Nee rhoncos, etc. Thou wilt fear neither the jibes of the 
 malicious nor furnish wrapping paper for fish. Martial, iv. 87. 
 That is, your writings will not be cast away for waste paper. — 
 Haec porcis, etc. These things you will leave to-day for the pigs 
 to eat. 
 
 31. Scene I. The scene is a street in Rome. — 16. mummia. 
 Mummy, a substance like pitch sold by the apothecaries as a rem- 
 edy for various diseases. See Sir Thomas Browne, Urn Burial, 
 '• Mummy is become merchandise, Mizraim cures wounds, and 
 Pharoah is sold for balsams." 
 
 32:21. called you master . . . caviare. That once called you 
 master, was once your property, only for a gift of caviare. Caviare 
 was considered a great delicacy. — 23. Wherein the phoenix . . . 
 your throats. Doubtless in allusion to the rare viands. The 
 ancients roasted peacocks and other rare fowls; a phoenix would 
 have been still rarer. — 25. An idle meteor . . . the earth. 
 Meteors were thought by some to be exhaled from the earth. 
 
 33: 51. Italian cut-works. Open work made by stamping or 
 cutting out. — Scene II. The scene is a room in Camillo's house. 
 
 34: 29. brains perished with quicksilver . . . liver. Quick- 
 silver was supposed to be a much more powerful poison than it 
 really is, even affecting those who worked with it. The liver was 
 considered the seat of the affections. — 30. The great barriers 
 moulted not more feathers. More feathers were not dislodged 
 from the helmets of the knights in the great tilting-match. — 32. An 
 Irish gamester . . . naked. Gamble for the clothes on his 
 back. Barnaby Rich records a brotherhood of gamblers in Ire- 
 land " who would wager the clothing upon their backs rather than 
 cease gaming." (Sampson). 
 
 35: 52. an ass in's foot-cloth. The foot -cloth was the rich 
 covering used on the horses of the nobility. Camillo is merelv an 
 
 431 
 
432 THE WHITE DEVIL 
 
 ass in rich clothing. — 59. a flaw. A sudden violent gale, hence i 
 quarrel. — 66. That nobleman bowl booty ? At present Brachianc 
 is letting Camillo have his own way with Vittoria, only to gain £ 
 foothold and bring his desires to later fruition. To play " booty 
 is to allow one's opponent to win in order to keep him in the game 
 
 — 66-68. his cheek . . . my mistress. Bias means inclination 
 to jump is to agree with, come in contact with. The bias of s 
 ball was its weight out of centre so that it might roll in a curve 
 There may possibly be a play too on cheek and chique, a small bal 
 or marble. 
 
 36: 77. Stuffed with horn-shavings. Because he is a cuckold 
 and has horns. — 77. God refuse me. God refuse me entrance 
 into heaven. — 82. In leam. In leash. This is a correction bv 
 Steevens of the original leon which was meaningless. — 93-95. take 
 the height . . . afore they are up. To take the height is tc 
 erect a horoscope, thus making an astrological prediction before the! 
 event. — 95-97- These politic inclosures . . . last jubilee.j 
 " Provocative electuaries " are medicines supposed to arouse the! 
 passions. The passage may be paraphrased : The shutting up cJ 
 wives who are suspected to be false causes " more rebellion in the 
 flesh " than all the love potions the doctors have sold since last 
 jubilee. The jubilee was the year 1600. 
 
 37: 119. bill. The European blackbird or chough has a yellow 
 bill. — 125 S. Passages within parentheses are asides to 
 Vittoria. 
 
 38: 139. glass-house. This house stood near the theatre in 
 Blackfriars. The site is still marked by Glass House Yard. — 
 143. you are a goodly foil. The foil was the setting for a jewel 
 
 — 153. philosopher's stone. The elixir, the property of which 
 was to change base metals into gold. 
 
 39: 171. quae negata, grata. Those things denied are pleas- 
 ing. — 176. at the end of the progress. A long time hence. A 
 progress was the journey of state of a sovereign through the king 
 dom; its occurrence was- alike infrequent and uncertain. — 184. ] 
 shall have you steal. That is, you will be stealing. — 200. curst 
 dogs. Dogs that are cross and treacherous, and for that reason 
 are kept tied during the day. 
 
 40: 203. Give credit. Believe me, addressed to Vittoria; Bra 
 chiano has eyes for none other. 
 
 41:237. Chequered with cross sticks. "Perhaps crosses 
 stuck in the grave." (Sampson). 
 
THE WHITE DEVIL 433 
 
 43:312. That I may bear . . . stirrup. That is, rise above 
 my present low condition. 
 
 44:322. conspiring with a beard . . . graduate. By means of 
 a beard he was able to impress himself upon the university authori- 
 ties. 
 
 45. Scene I. The scene is a room in Francisco's palace. — 
 12. my wrongs. Sins committed against me. — 14-16. to try 
 ... spider. The horn of the unicorn was considered an in- 
 fallible antidote against poison. In order to test this power a circle 
 was made of the powder made from the horn of the unicorn and 
 a spider placed within it. The spider, so great was the power of 
 this powder, would remain imprisoned. See Sir Thomas Browne, 
 Vulgar Errors, III. 23. — 18. an infected straying. Wandering 
 away after sinful pleasures. 
 
 46: 46. fetch a course about. Circle about without striking the 
 game. 
 
 47: 55. cloth of tissue. Cloth interwoven with gold or silver. 
 
 — 61. Switzers. The Swiss were long famous as hired soldiers 
 and were kept near the person of sovereigns for their fidelity. — 
 68. Thy ghostly father. Thy spiritual father, the priest who 
 shrives you. 
 
 48: 76. change perfumes for plasters. That is, contract dis- 
 ease. — 78. Your new-ploughed forehead-defiance! Your de- 
 fiance that wrinkles up the forehead like a new-ploughed field. 
 Brachiano implies that the defiance of Francisco is merely forehead 
 defiance. — 92. A mere tale of a tub. An idle story, as we should 
 say, a fairy-tale. — 93. But to express . . . natural reason. To 
 express the thought in ordinary fashion. — 94. When stags grow 
 mtelancholic. In allusion to the popular notion that the stag 
 sheds tears on the approach of death. 
 
 49: no. Homer's frogs. In allusion to The Battle of the Frogs 
 and Mice, attributed to Homer. — 123. up, and follow. That is, 
 rush into battle. 
 
 50:132. That fall that year. In the fall of that year. — 
 134. press. Impress. Giovanni of course plays on the word. 
 
 — 145. You have charmed me. You have wrought me to your 
 I way of thinking. — 147. So. Indeed, very well. 
 
 I 51: 160. what that Italian means. That is, what the word 
 for jealousy means in Italian. The Italians *re notable for jealousy. 
 — 162. As I to you a virgin. As when I came to you a 
 virgin. 
 
434 THE WHITE DEVIL 
 
 52: 183. Like a shaved Polack. Polander. Moryson, the 
 traveller, reports that it was a custom among the Poles at this timej 
 to shave the greater part of the head. 
 
 54: 261. manet altamente repostum. It remains stored away 
 in the depths of the mind. Mneid, I. 26. — 270. bring down her 
 stomach. Quiet her temper. 
 
 65: 286. but I'll send him to Candy. In allusion, possibly, to 
 death by a poisoned sweetmeat, or to Candy or Candia, as being a 
 distant place, just as we might say " I'll send him to Ballyhack." 
 286. Here's another property, too. Another tool which must 
 be turned to special purpose. — 291. he confessed a judge- 
 ment . . . non plus. He avoided the penalty by owning up to 
 the offence and pleading for mercy. 
 
 57:353. blast your cornucopia. Make less your abundance of 
 horns. Compare above, 1. 323, the translation in the text of 
 Inopem me copia fecit. 
 
 60. Scene I. The scene is Camillo's house. — 14. keep a curtal. 
 A docked horse, here in allusion to Banks's famous trained horse, 
 believed by the superstitious to perform his tricks by supernatural 
 agencies, and finally burnt at Rome. 
 
 62. compliment who shall begin. Exchange courtesy about 
 beginning. — 44. plotted forth the room. Arrested and taken 
 away as the result of a plot. — 46. The engine of all. The device 
 by which all was accompHshed. — 52. this shall stand. This 
 service shall remain as firm as the seal, etc. 
 
 63. Scene II. The scene is Monticelso's palace. — 6. Their 
 approbation. Their refers to the lieger ambassadors. 
 II. What, are you in by the week? To the lawyer, Flamineo 
 appears to be under arrest. — 13. sit upon thy sister. Act as 
 judges or possibly as jurors . — 25. catch conies. Catch rabbits. 
 To " catch conies " was, in Elizabethan language, to play the pro- 
 fessional sharper. 
 
 64: 52. the builder oak. Possibly the gallows, as Sampson 
 suggests. 
 
 65 : 60. politic respect. Regard for politic action. — 80. broiled 
 in a candle. Webster probably wrote " caudle." 
 
 66: 91. Domine judex, converte oculos in hanc pestem, 
 mulierum corruptisgimam. Reverend judge, look upon this pest, 
 this most corrupt of women. — 104. give aim. To cry aim, or 
 give aim was to encourage the archer. — 108. connive . . . di- 
 versivolent, etc. These unusual and diflficult words are a take- 
 
THE WHITE DEVIL 435 
 
 off on the verbiage of lawyers; we should be content to understand 
 them as well as Vittoria. 
 
 67: 119. to Latin. In comparison with Latin. — 126. fustian. 
 It was both a coarse cloth and a term for the language of rant and 
 bombast. — 139. A woman . . . effected. A woman of most 
 prodigious spirit is revealed in her. 
 
 68: 144-147. Yet like . . . ashes. One of the marvels which 
 is found in the travels of Sir John Maundeville. " Faire apples, 
 and faire of colour to beholde; but whoso brekethe hem, or cuttethe 
 hem in two, he schalle fynde within hem coles and cyndres." — 
 151. scarlet. The colour of the cardinal's robe. 
 
 69: 186. sample them all. Afford a sample of them all. — 
 190. husband. With a play on the meaning, steward, manager, 
 one who therefore renders accounts. — 195. I' th' rushes. The 
 floors in Elizabethan houses were strewn with rushes. 
 
 70: 198. Wound up. Shrouded in a winding sheet. — 207. this 
 Christian court. Vittoria plays on the word. The ecclesiastical 
 courts, where cases of adultery were tried were so called. — 214. my 
 defence . . . like Portia's. The original reads Perseus, — clearly 
 a misprint. Mitford emended " Portia's," which Dyce explained as 
 an allusion to the trial scene of The Merchant of Venice. Sampson 
 calls this naive, and refers the allusion to Cato's daughter, who died 
 in the " masculine " manner, if it be such, of eating live coals. 
 But why should it be " naive " to assume that a contemporary 
 should allude to the most striking scene of a popular play, a trial 
 scene, too, in which a woman argues in masculine attire, especially 
 when Webster shows everywhere an acquaintance with Shakespeare ? 
 
 71: 251. Your letters . . . lies. The " letters" of the clergy 
 are the pledges which a priest makes when he enters the church. 
 
 72:257. a demy foot-cloth. A half foot-cloth. A "foot- 
 cloth " was a covering for a horse used in state processions and in 
 tournaments. — 269. The act of blood let pass. Let the question 
 of the murder pass. — 280. Casta est quam nemo rogavit. She 
 is a chaste woman, to whom no man has made advances. 
 
 73 : 309. as loving As to my thoughts. So curious or solicitous 
 is to reach unto my thoughts. 
 
 74:327. Rialto talk. The talk of the town. — 343. a house 
 Df convertites. A house of correction. 
 
 76: 375. We'll shake hands . . . grave together. The grave 
 »f Brachiano's wife, sister of Francisco. — 399. Wilt please . . . 
 I little? Addressed to the ambassadors. 
 
436 THE WHITE DEVIL 
 
 78:447. victual under the line. Like food in the tropics, 
 under the equator. — 449. here they sell justice . . . death 
 with. They take bribes while they are torturing men in the name 
 of justice. Weights were used in torture. 
 
 79:459. The first blood shed . . . religion. See Genesis iv. 4. 
 "■ And the Lord had respect unto Abel and his offering: but unto 
 Cain he had not respect. And Cain was very wroth, and his 
 countenance fell." — 460. Would I were a Jew ! In which case 
 he would have no obligations to a religion that permits such in- 
 justice. — 471. practise the art of Wolner in England. Wolner 
 was a notorious glutton of the day, finally overmastered in his 
 attempts to eat strange things by a live eel. 
 
 80: 502, melancholic hare. Tradition attributed melancholy 
 to the hare. — 504. couple grieve. In allusion to the laughter of 
 imaginary passers-by. Flamineo is feigning madness. — 510. saucer 
 Of a witch's congealed blood. It is doubtful if this is referable 
 to any actual incantation or rather an invention of Flamineo's fertile 
 imagination. 
 
 81: 538. you do break. That is, break your promise. 
 
 82:548. Ud'sdeath! A form of God's death. — Scene III. 
 The scene continues Monticelso's palace. 2. And let them 
 dangle . . . bride's hair. It was customary for brides to walk 
 to church with hair hanging loose. 
 
 84 : 49. By taking up commodities. That is, taking goods at 
 a reduced price or furnishing goods to borrowers which they might 
 sell at a reduction. Usury was prohibited by law in Elizabethan 
 times. 
 
 85: 74. by this. The list of Monticelso. — 89. Nay, laundress, 
 three armies. Nay, did I want laundresses, the list would furnish 
 me a sufficient number for three armies. Laundresses were no- 
 torious panders. — 93. Divinity. Theological argument. 
 
 86: 136. Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo. If 
 I cannot change the gods above, I will move the infernal regions. 
 
 87. Scene I. The scene is the House of Convertites. 
 
 88 : 20. coffined in a baked meat. Cooked in a pie. 
 
 89: 48. O'er head and ears in water. A play on changeable 
 stuff or watered silk. — 55. I am not in Russia. This is a refer- 
 ence to the cruel treatment given those who in Russia were com- 
 mitted for small offences. — 61. a Spanish fig, or an Italian 
 sallet. Poisoning by the means suggested here was very commor 
 in Spain and Italy. Sallet = salad. — 63. ply your convoy. Plv 
 
THE WHITE DEVIL 437 
 
 your trade. — Scene II. The scene continues in the House of 
 Convertites. 
 
 90: 10. politic ignorance! Ignorance which is feigned. — 
 II. You are reclaimed, are you? . . . bells. You have come 
 back from your wild llight, have you ? When a hawk was being 
 trained a thread was tied into the leather band about its leg, by 
 means of which it could be drawn back or " reclaimed." Each 
 leg of the hawk was fitted with a bell. — 17. beheld the devil in 
 crystal ! Astrologers were accustomed to look into crystals, claim- 
 ing to be able to make divinations from the spirits which they saw 
 in them. Vittoria is, of course, the devil so seen. 
 ' 91 : 40. sick o' th' palsy . . . foxes 'bout them. Th:.t the 
 strong odor of the fox had curative powers was a common belief. 
 
 95. Scene III. The scene is without the Vatican. The actual 
 choice of this Pope, who was called Sixtus V, took place in the 
 Sistine Chapel. 
 
 96:38. scrutiny . . . admiration. "Two of the methods of 
 i electing a Pope," says Sampson, " are here referred to. Scrutiny 
 jis balloting. . . . Admiration [doubtless a misprint for * adora- 
 ition '], is an act of reverence on the part of the cardinals, who 
 i approach one of their number, kneel to him and acclaim him 
 iPope." A vote of two-thirds of the members by either method 
 formerly constituted an election. 
 
 97:43-45. Denuntio vobis . . . Paulum Quartum. I an- 
 nounce to you the joyous news, the most reverend Cardinal, Lorenzo 
 de Monticelso, is elected to the apostolic see, and takes for himself 
 the name, Paul the Fourth. — 60. Concedimus . . . peccatorima. 
 We grant unto you the apostolic benediction and remission of your 
 sins. 
 
 99: 94. the career, The sault, and the ring galliard. Tricks 
 of horsemanship. The career is simply running, the sault, leaping. 
 
 101. Scene I. The scene is in Brachiano's Palace, Padua. 
 
 102: 53. and must crave . . . revels. That is, must beg you 
 to be 'a guest at our Duchess' revels. 
 
 103 : 69. pair of beads. String of beads. 
 
 104:94. That is my countryman. This is spoken in reference 
 to Francisco, disguised as a Moor. 
 
 106: 183. from protesting to drinking. From making solemn- 
 vows to drinking. 
 
 107: 191. clapped by th' heels. Put in the stocks. It was 
 against the law to strike anyone in the precincts of the court. 
 
438 THE WHITE DEVIL 
 
 109. Scene TI. The scene continues in Brachiano's palace. — 
 lo. Was not this crucifix my father's ? Spoken in reference 
 to the crucifix about Cornelia's neck. 
 
 111:69. grazed. Lost in the grass; the allusion is to the 
 familiar trick of shooting a second arrow at random in hope ol 
 finding one already lost. 
 
 114 : 54. within compass o' th' verge. Within the limits 
 of the horizon. — 56. like a wolf in a woman's breast. Tht 
 wolf is probably the lupus, or cancer, that often attacks the 
 breast. 
 
 116: 116. a gown whipped with velvet. Trimmed with strip? 
 of velvet. — 124. th' argument . . . stagger in 't. It is r 
 serious matter when churchmen become drunkards. 
 
 117:137-147. Domine ... in laevum. Since Gasparo anc 
 Lodovico are pretending to be priests, they speak Latin in per 
 forming the last rites over Brachiano. The passage will be founcj 
 translated in Sampson's edition of Webster. ' 
 
 119:178. Though she had practised . . . pest-house. Ir 
 reference to the report that nurses sometimes strangled plagu( 
 patients in order to save themselves the trouble of taking care o 
 them. — 185. they sell water so good cheap. That is, womei 
 sell water at such a good bargain. The allusion contained in " mon 
 rivers to the city " has reference to the project of Sir Hugh Middle 
 ton to increase the London water supply, a project completed on!) 
 in 1613. — 194. tricks of a Machiavelian ! In Elizabethar 
 times Machiavelli was considered the type of politic and unscrupu- 
 lous deahng. — 198. saffron. Commonly employed as a stimu- 
 lant. — 200. To teach court honesty . . . ice. The antecedem 
 of it seems almost certainly to be feat. The passage may be 
 paraphrased: The suddenness with which one may fall who jump; 
 on ice is not to be compared to the speed with which one may los( 
 his reputation at court. — 200. jumps on ice. Undertake some 
 thing dangerous. 
 
 120: 216. yon's the infernal. In reference to Zanche. 
 
 122: 261. that sunburnt proverb. See Jeremiah xiii. 23 
 " Can the Ethiopian change his skin ? " — 269. Purge the dis 
 ease with laurel. That is, we do away with all serious con 
 siderations of justice by setting above justice the fame we shal 
 gain by this act. Partridges were supposed to eat laurel leaves tc 
 cure themselves of disease. 
 
 123: 26. Anacharsis. Anacharsis was a Thracian prince whc 
 
THE WHITE DEVIL 439 
 
 lived in sixth century B.C. — 28. cordial cullis. A cullis was a 
 rich soup. Gold was sometimes used in its concoction. 
 
 124 : 64. They are behind the traverse. The traverses were 
 curtains concealing, at need, the inner stage 
 
 125: 77-79. There's rosemary ... for myself. The echo of 
 words of the mad Ophelia must be apparent to the most casual 
 reader. — 94. an you will. If you will. 
 
 127. Scene V. Sampson assigns this short scene to a 
 street. 
 
 128. Scene VI is again the palace of Brachiano. — 13. I give 
 that portion . . . brother. See Genesis iv. 12. 
 
 129:21. two case of pistols. A case of two pistols. — 
 24. These stones. Possibly a far-fetched reference to the bullets 
 with which the pistols were supposed to be loaded. 
 
 130: 64. Like mandrakes . . . shrieking. The resemblance 
 between the mandrake root and the human figure is constantly 
 emphasized in Elizabethan times. — 65. grammatical laments. 
 Mere rhetorical sorrow. 
 
 131 : 90. taster. The name applied to one who tasted a dish 
 in order to warrant the absence of poison. 
 
 132:104. O Lucian . . . purgatory! These are not the ex- 
 amples of Lucian, though prompted by a passage in the second 
 dialogue, Menippos. — 105. tagging points. Making lace. 
 
 133:142. drive a stake. In allusion to the treatment of the 
 bodies of suicides. — 146. And doubled all yoiu" reaches. That 
 is, fathomed the utmost depth of your trickery. — 157. artillery- 
 yard. A practice ground near Bishopsgate Street without. 
 
 134: 163. forty-nine of her sisters . . . one night. Danaus 
 had made his fifty daughters promise that they would kill their 
 husbands on their wedding night to avenge an ancient grudge. All 
 obeyed except Hypermnestra. — 167. A matachin. A dance in 
 which the performers were clothed in short jackets and wore gilt 
 paper helmets, also carrying sword and buckler. — 168. Church- 
 men. Lodovico and Gasparo are dressed as Capuchins 
 dress. 
 
 137:264. like the lions i' th' Tower on Candlemasday. The 
 tradition seems to have been that if the sun shone on Candlemas- 
 day, the lions would mourn because they knew that winter was not 
 broken up. A similar tradition is held to-day in America in regard 
 to the ground-hog. 
 
440 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 
 
 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 
 
 143. Scene I. A presence-chamber in the Duchess' palace a1 
 Amalfi. — 18. Inform him the corruption. Tell the king of the 
 corruption. 
 
 144 : 30. So. Do you ? — 36. two towels instead of a shirt ■ 
 A jocularly bitter remark on his rags. Cf. / Henry IV, IV, ii.. 
 46 : " There's but a shirt and a half in all my company; and the 
 half shirt is two napkins tacked together and thrown over the 
 shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves." 
 
 145:63. geometry is his last supportation. Sampson ex^ 
 plains, " geometry presumably implies that a man on crutches looks 
 like a pair of compasses," as he walks measuring the ground. — 
 Scene II. A gallery in the palace at Amalfi. 
 
 146: 6. Who took the ring oftenest? To take the ring is tc 
 thrust a lance through a ring, dislodging it, while riding at a gallop. 
 This was a favourite sport of Prince Henry, son of King James. 
 30. to lie . . . all in tents. To lie meant to lodge also 5 tenU 
 were the swathings of lint with which the wounded were band- 
 aged. 
 
 147: 50. your fool. Any fool. — 73. Now, sir, your promise^ 
 That is, his promise to tell Delio about the characters of some oi 
 the court people. 
 
 148: 75. five thousand crowns at tennis. This was not ar 
 exaggeration of the high stakes sometimes played at this game. 
 The poet Suckling in the next generation nearly ruined himseli 
 financially at this game. — 80. The spring in his face ... en- 
 gendering of toads. Any pleasant looks which he may have are 
 caused by his gloating over some foul scheme. — 84. political 
 monsters. Political is here used in the sense of practising policy, 
 low intrigue of any kind. — 97. Dooms men to death by infor 
 mation. That is, passes sentence upon men merely from whal 
 he hears about them. — 102. shrewd turns. Tricks of deceit. 
 
 149: no. Cast in one figure. Made in the same mould. — 127 
 You play . . . her commendations. You praise her to excess 
 as a wire-drawer draws out the metal fine. 
 
 152: 205. my corruption Grew out of horse-dung. That is. 
 came by way of magic. 
 
 153: 216. more spotted Thau Laban's sheep. See Genesk 
 
THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 441 
 
 XXX. 35. — 220. that motion. That determination. Motion is 
 here used for movement of the mind. — 231. Subtler than 
 Vulcan's engine. The net with which Vulcan caught Mars and 
 Venus. 
 
 154: 265. I winked. Chose bhndly. 
 
 156:321. 'tis very sovereign. That is, a sovereign remedy 
 for disease. Such powers were often connected with rings. 
 
 157: 331. This goodly roof of yours. Possibly a reference to 
 Antonio's head as he is kneeling before her. — 347. darkening 
 of your worth. Underestimating of your worth, in allusion to the 
 practice of tradesmen who darkened their shops to conceal the in- 
 feriority of their goods. 
 
 158:379. Quietus est. This Latin phrase was used to indicate 
 the fmal settlement of an account. 
 
 159:391. Per verba presenti. In the hearing of one who is 
 present. 
 
 160:412. Like the old tale in Alexander and Lodowick. 
 The detail referred to was an episode common in the romantic 
 tales of the Middle Ages. A very early occurrence of it may be 
 found in the story of " Tristram and Iseult." There was a play 
 called Alexander and Lodowick in the earlier drama. 
 
 161. Scene I. A room in the palace of the Duchess. — 18. 
 roaring boys. The swaggering roughs and bullies of the town 
 ;vere so called in the slang of the day. — 24. one of the prime 
 aight-caps. Webster himself explains the word four lines above 
 is " an eminent fellow." 
 
 162: 27. Why . . . face-physic. Elizabethan drama is full 
 )f diatribes against women's use of cosmetics. Bosola's brutal 
 ibuse of the " Old Lady " may have been suggested, as Sampson 
 lays, by Mercutio's teasing of Juliet's Nurse. — 40-42. witchcraft 
 . ordure. This horrible passage has been referred for its 
 )riginal to Ariosto's Satires, 1608, as translated by Tofte. — 43. 
 lead pigeon. This strange remedy is to be found among like 
 eceipts in The English Huswife, 16 15. 
 
 163 : 68. Your wife's gone . . . Lucca. This is addressed to 
 astruccio. Lucca was the seat of famous baths. — 76. I have 
 tought some apricocks. See below, Scene II, II. 1-3 : " So, so, 
 here's nt) question but her techiness and most vulturous eating of 
 he apricocks, are apparent signs of breeding." 
 
 164: loi. you are lord of the ascendant The ascendant, 
 
 cording to astrology, was that particular part of the heavens 
 
442 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 
 
 which was arising at a given time. A planet in that part which wa 
 called the house was lord of the ascendant. Hence the phrase mean 
 to be in high good fortune. — 119. mend my ruff. Set my ruf 
 to rights. — 121. lemon peels. To sweeten the breath. Thi 
 original edition reads pits. 
 
 165: 137. to year. This year. 
 
 167. Scene II. An outer room in the palace at Amalfi. — 7, the 
 glass-house. The place where bottles are blown. See above 
 note, p. 38, 1. 139. 
 
 170: 87. set a figure for's nativity. Determine the star undej; 
 which he was born, cast his horoscope. — Scene III. A couri 
 of the palace. — 5. have part of it. Play my part in this 
 stratagem. 
 
 171 : 20-22. setting a figure . . . radical. Astrology was 
 popularly employed for the discovery of stolen articles. Radica 
 is a technical term. — 7,7,. a Spanish fig For the imputation, 
 The term Spanish fig was accompanied by a gesture made by 
 inserting the thumb between the fore and the middle finger. In; 
 Elizabethan days this was a sign of the greatest contempt; figs 
 were a common medium of poison in Spain and Italy at this tinje. — 
 40. Are you scarce warm? Scarce warm in your place. 
 
 172: 42. My nose bleeds. Commonly accounted an omen of 
 coming misfortune. — 45. letters . . . wrought. In allusion to 
 the letters wrought or embroidered on this handkerchief, — 55. 
 Some of your help, false friend. Addressed to his lantern. — 
 56. nativity. This nativity is properly calculated according to 
 the rules of the art. " The lord of the first house (Saturn, an evil 
 planet) is combust when within fifteen degrees of Sol; Mars is also 
 an evil planet; a human sign is one of the signs of the Zodiac which 
 has a human form, as Virgo, Aquarius; the first house signifies 
 body, head, face, and the eighth house signifies kind of death." 
 (Searles, quoted by Sampson). 
 
 173. Scene IV. A room in the Cardinal's palace at Rome. 
 17. glass . . . Galileo. This was a recent event at the date of 
 the play. 
 
 174:28-30. I have taken . . . fly at it. The Cardinal is using 
 the language of hawking. — 39. like one in physic. Under treat- 
 ment for disease. 
 
 175:57. Your laughter Is my pity. I am sorry for that which 
 causes you laughter. — 65. Nor is it physical. Possessed ol 
 medicinal properties. — 66. Persuade us seeth't in cullises. A 
 
THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 443 
 
 cullis was a strong broth, into which gold entered at times as an 
 ingredient. 
 
 176. Scene V. The scene continues in the Cardinal's palace. — 
 3. she's loose i' th' hilts. She's a strumpet. 
 
 179:79. general eclipse. Complete destruction of her and hers. 
 
 180. Scene I. A room in the palace at Amaifi. — 7. She hath 
 had two children more. Considerable time must have elapsed 
 since Antonio and Delio last met. — 14. the reversion of some 
 great man's place. The promise of some great man's place after 
 he has left it vacant, 
 
 181 : 49. Pasquil's paper-bullets. Lampoons pasted on a 
 mutilated statute in Rome and commonly called pasquils or pas- 
 quinades from a satirical cobbler named Pasquin, who began the 
 practice. 
 
 182: 57. Hot burning coulters. One of the trials of chastity 
 actually practised in the middle ages. 
 
 183. Scene II. The bedchamber of the Duchess, i\malfi. — 
 7. you are a lord of misrule. The lord of misrule was the master 
 of revels at Christmas time in the old English celebration, hence a 
 name applied to anyone who upset the natural order of things or 
 did as he pleased. 
 
 184: 27. Anaxarete. She suffered this fate because she had re- 
 fused the love of Iphis, who committed suicide therefore. — 40. 
 'twas a motion. Motion here appears to mean a puppet-show, 
 a sight, as we might say. 
 
 185 : 69. 'Tis welcome. If Antonio has lost his tongue, he will 
 be much less liable to say something which will cause his overthrow. 
 The Duchess, on account of the darkness, is not aware of the fact 
 that Antonio has gone, but supposes Ferdinand is he. 
 
 186 : 88. If I could change Eyes with a basilisk. The eyes of 
 the basilisk killed at a distance. — 94. thy discovery. The dis- 
 covery of thee. 
 
 188: 141. So you have . . . witches. That is, possessed of 
 youth and beauty when in reality they are witches. 
 
 189: 177. enginous wheels. Wheels that run with the swift- 
 ness of an engine. 
 
 190: 190. let him. Equivocally either stop him or hinder him, 
 like the rest of the passage. 
 
 191: 215. He could not . . . pig's head gaping. Pork being 
 offensive to a Jew. ; — 225. chippings of the buttery. Bread 
 crumbs used to scour silver. — 230. His dirty stirrup . . . their 
 
444 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 
 
 noses. As a sign of inferiority. The serf followed the lord who 
 rode on horseback, so that one might say their noses were rivetted 
 to his stirrup. 
 
 192: 267. Bermoothes. The Bermudas. 
 
 193: 309. our lady of Loretto. A famous shrine of the Virgin 
 was situated here. It was supposed that the house of the Virgin 
 had been transported here from Nazareth. 
 
 194: 316. Lucca, Spa. Both notable watering resorts. — Scene 
 III. The Cardinal's palace at Rome. 
 
 195 : 12. A voluntary lord. One serving of his own free will. — 
 18. City Chronicle. His knowledge of warfare is that of an 
 officer of militia. — ig. two pewter ers going. Two pewter-smiths 
 making models of battles. — 26. taking prisoner. Being taken 
 prisoner. 
 
 196:38. Foxes ... in their tails. Thus Samson destroyed 
 the Philistines. See Judges xv. 4 — 49. A very salamander . 
 violenc* of fire. The salamander was supposed to be able to liv( 
 in fire. The eyes of Ferdinand flash at the news he hears. 
 
 197: 7. Arms, and honours deck thy story. A marginal not 
 of the quarto of 1623 reads: " The author disclaims this ditty to be 
 his." 
 
 199. Scene V. On the road near Loretto. 
 
 201 : 47. what of this? The letter. — 62. out of frame. Out 
 of order. 
 
 203: 116. that counterfeit face. The mask which Bosola wears^ 
 
 205. Scene I. A room in the Duchess' palace at Amalfi. 1 
 
 207:62-64. Than were't my picture . . . dunghill. One of 
 the familiar methods of practising against life employed by those 
 deaHng in witchcraft. — 70. Portia. That is, Brutus' Portia who 
 took her life by swallowing live coals. 
 
 210: 129. by my intelligence. By the intelligence which I 
 have given you, which makes Bosola an informer against the 
 Duchess. — Scene II. The scene continues the same.. 
 
 211 : 24. to my cause of sorrow. Woe is me. 
 
 212: 55. an excellent knave in grain. A pun is intended on 
 the expression " dyed in grain." — 56. hindered transportation. 
 Prohibited from exporting his corn. 
 
 213 : 85. to Puritans that have sore throats with overstrain- 
 ing. Because they have sung so many hymns and said so man) 
 long prayers. — 88-90. You do give . . . ancient gentleman 
 A woodcock was the symbol of stupidity. A man who gave hi; 
 
THE DUCHESS OF MALFI 445 
 
 crest as " a woodcock's head with the brain's picked out on't " 
 would be a very ancient gentleman indeed. — 92. we are only 
 to be saved by the Helvetian translation. That is, the Geneva 
 Bible, the work of Coverdale, Whittingham, and other Englishmen 
 living in Calvin's Protestant commonwealth of Geneva. This was 
 the version of the extreme Puritans. 
 
 217: 219. strange geometrical hinges. Strange magical 
 hinges. 
 
 219: 254. Let this lie still. This is spoken of the body of the 
 Duchess. — 255. Shows the children. By drawing a curtain. 
 
 221:322. Doth take much in a blood. Runs in families. 
 
 222: 346. Her eye opes. The revival of the Duchess 
 after strangling seems reminiscent of the case of Desdemona. 
 The doctors are at variance as to the truth of such a revival to 
 life. 
 
 224. Scene I. Milan, a public place. — 6. in cheat. In 
 escheat. Lands which, on account of the absence of lawful heirs, 
 reverted to the lord of a fee, were said to be held in cheat. — 10. To 
 be invested . . . revenues. To receive the income which is 
 now paid you. — 19. St. Bennet. St. Benedict. 
 
 227. Scene II. A gallery in the residence of the Cardinal at 
 Rome. — 6. lycanthropia. Madness in which the madman im- 
 agines himself a wolf. 
 
 228: 48. To drive six snails . . . Moscow. In his madness 
 Ferdinand thinks of a striking example of patience. 
 
 229:62. The white of a cockatrix's egg. The doctor is 
 humouring the madman by answering him in the terms of his own 
 folly. — 70. fetch a frisk. Cut a caper. — 77. Barber -Chirur- 
 geon's hall. This was situated in Monkwell Street. The barbers, 
 as is well known, were the first surgeons. 
 
 231: 125. style me Thy advancement. Call on me to ad- 
 vance you. — 139. Who bought her picture lately. The pic- 
 ture of the Duchess. 
 
 234: 230. I must be your secretary. The sharer of your 
 secrets. 
 
 235: 245. Will you rack me? Torture me with questions as 
 one on the rack. 
 
 237 : 298. And wherefore . . . rotten purposes to me ? A 
 figure drawn from the custom of painting woodwork to imitate 
 marble. 
 
 239, Scene III. Milan, without the Cardinal's residence. 
 
446 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 
 
 241: 59. Contempt of pain . . . our own. Contempt of pain 
 is the only thing in time of misery that we can call our own. — 
 Scene IV. A room in the residence of the Cardinal, with a gallery. 
 — 19. now I have protested against it. Now that I have 
 solemnly promised not to do it. 
 
 243 : 66. I am glad ... in sadness. Seriously, I am glad 
 that I shall do it, that is, die. 
 
 244: 90. thou represent . . . The thing thou bear'st. Be as 
 silent as the dead body thou bearest. -— Scene V. The scene 
 remains the same. 
 
 247:62. what hath former been. What hath formerly been. 
 
 — 76. I will vault credit. Outdo belief. 
 
 248: 97. Here i' th' rushes. The regular floor- covering of the 
 times. 
 
 249: 123. Fall in a frost. Slip on the ice which the frost has 
 made. 
 
 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 
 
 255. Scene I. Rome before the Senate-house. 
 
 256: 24. I have seen . . . them. This sentiment is re- 
 peated from The Duchess of Malfi, I. ii, 380-381. Such repetitions 
 are a familiar trick of Webster's. — 37. when yonder. In the 
 Capitol. — 49. I'll fit them for't. That is, give my relatives a 
 chance to warm them in my sunshine. 
 
 257 : 56. aspire eminent place. Aspire to eminent place. — 
 74. Never were great men . . . shadows. The things which 
 invariably accompany high office, such as envy, criticism, and end- 
 less responsibility. — 75. this general frame. The material uni- 
 verse. — 78. noble friends. Appius speaks ironically to his 
 cousins. 
 
 258: 90. The gods conduct you hither ! That is, to this office. 
 
 — 100. travail. In the double sense to journey and to labour. 
 259. Scene II. A room in the house of Virginius. — 6. were 
 
 you poor. Even if you were poor. — 10. it. My character. — 
 II. Here. That is, in Virginia. 
 
 260: 13. ceremonious chapel. A chapel which is a place of 
 sacred ceremony. — 14. a thronging presence. The crowded 
 presence-chamber of a prince. — 15-17. I am confirmed, the 
 court . . . court. I am convinced that the court makes some ladies 
 appear fairer, etc., but Virginia's port (bearing) being simple virtue. 
 
APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 447 
 
 beautifies the court. — 37. quails. Quails were used like cocks 
 for fighting. — 39. In this form . . . horseman. Appearing as 
 an overspent horseman. 
 
 261. Scene III. A room in the house of Appius Claudius. — 
 10. I am uncrannied. There are in me no leaks by which 
 secrets will out. — 15. thine ear. — Dyce's reading for "thine 
 ever." 
 
 262: 35. I'll prostrate you. I'll pander to you, make it possible 
 for you to gratify your desires. 
 
 263. Scene IV. The Senate-chamber. — 9. yon great star- 
 chamber. The heavens. 
 
 264: 55. To furs and metal. The outward show of public 
 ofiSce. — 58. an infinite. A vast number. 
 
 265: 74. double-dye . . . in scarlet. Scarlet being the colour 
 of office as of blood. — 77. Let Janus' . . . devolved. Let the 
 gates of the temple of Janus be swung open. These gates remained 
 open while an army was in the field. 
 
 266: 93. perdue. Enemies lying " perdue," that is, hidden, in 
 ambush. — 104-106. wounds . . . searched. That is, probed. 
 — 107. pore upon their bags. Play the miser. — 114. The 
 earth shall find. The earth shall provide for. 
 
 267: 129. to urge you . . . contract. To urge you to take 
 the necessary steps for our union, in this case merely public announce- 
 ment. Contract is accented, as usual at the time, on the second 
 syllable. — 150. Thou wilt . . . forbear. You will pay usurious 
 interest for what you hold back. 
 
 268. Scene I. A street. — 5. and get an heir. The freedom 
 of Elizabethan speech, and especially the liberties allowed by the 
 clown or household fool, are always matters of wonder to the reader 
 unused to the manners of old time. However we may congratulate 
 ourselves on our cleaner language, we must be careful not to con- 
 found bad manners with corrupt morals. — 14. as well asmulier. 
 That is, a woman. The clown means to imply that she desires all 
 the things which please a woman. 
 
 269: 29. to fame his industry. Make famous his ability to 
 wait an occasion. — 32. Express your greatest art. Play your 
 best. This is spoken to the musicians. — 41. You mediate . . . 
 for courtesies. You try to excuse what is really courtesy. — 47. 
 Proud to usurp your notes. Usurp means simply to take up. 
 
 270: 70. make your beauty populous. Bring it to the knowl- 
 L edge of all. — 75. a refined citizen. Icilius is only a plebeian. — 
 
 i 
 
448 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 
 
 S5. Shadow. Conceal it from Appius. — Scene II. The camp 
 before Algidum. 
 
 272: 44. Carouse our blood. Drink to the intoxication of our 
 blood. — ^^. Cut poor mens throats at home. In allusion to the 
 ruin wrought by extortion-ate money-lenders. 
 
 273: 65. Two summers. The plenty of two summers or har- 
 vests. 
 
 274: 98. Is your gall burst? Does your venom show itself? 
 — 103. shoot your quills. In accord with a popular idea as to 
 the porcupine. 
 
 275: 113. Advance your pikes! As we would say, present 
 arms. — 136. Refuse me! May God refuse me entrance into 
 heaven ! 
 
 276: 157-160. every captain . . . obedient. Every captain 
 bears in his private government (over his own company) that (i.e. 
 the same) form (kind of rule) which kings should bear (wield) over 
 their subjects; and to them (i.e. captains, their troops) should be 
 equally obedient. 
 
 278. Scene III. Rome, an outer room in the house of Appius. 
 
 281: 92. Our secretary. Appius begins an excuse in which 
 Marcus, " our secretar}," is to figure. 
 
 283: 134. Morrow. A shortened form of Good-morrow. — 
 135. It is no more indeed. That is, than morning. — 146. Pan- 
 thean gods. All ye gods of the Pantheon. 
 
 284: 1 78. notes probable. Written statements which will ser\e 
 as proof. ^- 190. t' have warrants by arrest. To get a warrant 
 for her arrest. 
 
 286. .Scene I. Rome, a room in the house of Numitorius. — 
 II. when. An exclamation of impatience equivalent to " Be about 
 it then," — 15. a light woman. .\ wanton woman. 
 
 287: 22. My [foster-] child. Foster is an emendation pro- 
 posed by Mr. Dyce to supply a defect in the early editions of the 
 play, which read, " My most — child." 
 
 289: 92. Showed . . . 'gainst himself. His handwriting in 
 the letters to Virginia. — 112. let's then preserve ourselves 
 That is, protect ourselves by avoiding open opposition to .Appius. 
 
 290. Scene II. Rome, the Forum. — 9. 'Tis strange . . . 
 debts. The lictor supposes that he is to arrest Virginia on the 
 charge of debt. 
 
 291: 23. your French fly. A blistering fly used in the treat- 
 ment of certain diseases. French rheum is a euphemism for such 
 
APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 449 
 
 iseases. — 27. lay him i' th' kennel. Knock him down in the 
 
 iddle of the street where ran the Elizabethan kennel or gutter. — 
 
 :. kennel him i' th' coimter. Shut him up in the Compter, a 
 
 :son for debtors situated in Southwark. Counter was equivalent 
 any prison. — 41. Here's the beauty. Indicating the nurse. — 
 
 ;. Of all waters ... a widows tears. Because there is little 
 
 :'.i for powdering (ot preserving like corned beef) in them, i.e. they 
 ^:e feigned. 
 
 292: 63. and lastly the reversion. That part of the property 
 oi a widow which must return to the relatives of the husband. — 
 74. hard to be spoke with. Hard to procure. — 7S. And fresh 
 cod . . . thick and threefold. That is, sold in a great hurry. 
 The language of the clown throughout conveys an innocent sense to 
 \irginia and happily likewise to us; but to the knowing of the time 
 his words are full of improprieties and worse. — 79. go together 
 by the ears for't. Fight for it. — Si. mutton's mutton. The. 
 wn plays on the word as elsewhere. — S4. the sinners i' th' 
 
 iburbs . . . away from't. There has sprung up such a number 
 of houses of ill fame in the suburbs that the business has been almost 
 destroyed in the city. — S6. the term time . . • calendar. The 
 
 ::e of the meeting of the general sessions is the greatest period 
 
 the year for the selling of mutton, that is, the most flourishing 
 period for prostitutes. 
 
 293: 90. cuckoos. It was customary- to cry cuckoo to a man 
 whose wife was known to be false to him. — 106. tall followers. 
 This refers to the lictors who are with Marcus. Tall means sol- 
 dierly, brave. 
 
 294: 132. Shall . . . smooth cozenage. Which is to be un- 
 derstood before shall. — 134. Howeer. However that may be. 
 
 296: 1S5. on their parts. On their side. 
 
 297: 20S. And view . . . proofs. As Marcus makes this 
 speech he*hands a written statement of his case to Appius. 
 
 299: 2S0. referring . . . particular censxire. Referring the 
 particular or private wrong which I may have suffered by the artions 
 of Marcus to a separate judgement. 
 
 301: 327. and must not lie . . . forthcoming. Must not be 
 left in charge of a man who will pledge himself for her appearance 
 before the judge. Propriety demands that a woman so act. — 341. 
 keep you safe from starting. Put you where you will not run 
 away. 
 
 302: 354. still hold dread .Always hold in apprehension. — 
 
450 
 
 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA 
 
 359. And confounding ignorance. Icilius refers to the ignorance 
 of facts necessary to free Virginia. — Scene III. A room in the 
 house of Appius. 
 
 303: 22. In high attempts . . . infinite eyes. When one 
 is attempting great things, the insight becomes all-seeing. — Scene 
 IV. A street. 
 
 304: 12. Wide of the bow-hand. Considerably to the left of 
 the hand that holds the bow, the left hand. — 34. amongst curs 
 a trendle-tail. A trendle-tail, a dog with a curling tail. The 
 point of all these expressions is that the clown regards himself as the 
 most despised creature of a despised type of animal. — 46. on the 
 knight side, nor in the twopenny ward. The names of two wards 
 in the old Compter prison in Southwark. 
 
 305: 48. in the hole. This likewise has reference to the worst 
 part of the prison. The vulgar equivoque of this detestable clown 
 throughout is obvious. 
 
 306. Scene I. Rome, before the tribunal of Appius. — 9. Is 
 still carousing Lethe. Drunk with forgetfulness. — 11. Rhada- 
 mant. Rhadamanthus, one of the judges in the lower world. 
 
 307: 38-40. We have . . . doom. This may be paraphrased: 
 The sense of justice in Rome is not sufficient to prevent, by law or 
 by violence, the act which Appius has premeditated. 
 
 308: 56. Your habit . . . strangely. You look very strange 
 in your present dress of slave. — 70, They be not . . . against 
 me. That is, the laws be not made to work against me. — 76. I 
 stand you. I am ready to withstand you. 
 
 309: III. the fellow i' th' night-cap. The lawyer's hat of the 
 day looked much like a night-cap. 
 
 310: 130. this gentleman. Marcus. 
 
 311: 143. Cast not your noble beams. Satirically, cast not 
 your eyesight upon. — 159. and so. And in consequence. 
 
 312: 190. At point's end. At the conclusion of the subject 
 under discussion, also at the sword's point. 
 
 313: 207. by th' hand. At any cost. " By the hand " carries 
 with it the idea of mean trickery. — 223. We have not such hot 
 livers. We are not so lascivious. The liver was supposed at this 
 time to be the seat of the passions. 
 
 314: 256. plebeian. Webster means patrician. 
 
 315: 262. O, thy opinion, old Pythagoras! The theory o^ the 
 transmigration of souls is referred to. Cf. Plato's Republic^ Book X. 
 
 316. Scene II. The camp before Algidum. 
 
THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 45 1 
 
 318:31. As Dutchmen feed their soldiers. The ill manner in 
 which the Dutch provided for their soldiers was proverbial at this 
 time. Such an anachronism is thoroughly Elizabethan. 
 
 320: 102. this ugly face of blood. Your disordered bloody 
 appearance. 
 
 321: 141. general tongue. A tongue in which all speak. 
 
 323. Scene I. Rome, a street. — 18. my court of guard. My 
 body-guard, hence my protection. 
 
 324: 38. to preserve dead pays. To secure the continuation 
 of pay to soldiers really dead. A practice only too common in Web- 
 ster's day. 
 
 325. Scene II. The Forum, — 2. Make a stand ! Present 
 arms. The stage direction in the older copies involved in the mar- 
 ginal word " wine " has reference to the wine used below. — 16. 
 Wilt a', wilt a' ! Will you away ! Addressed to the demon of 
 fever whom Virginius thinks is troubling him. — 22. when? An 
 exclamation indicating impatience. 
 
 326: 31. So, I thank you. This is said in appreciation of the 
 cup of wine which Numitorius has helped to the lips of Virginius. — 
 58. here's a fury. His own sense of remorse. 
 
 328: 100. which first . . . reconcilement. Who made the 
 first move for reconciliation. 
 
 329: 6. avees. Salutations. — 23. 'Tis the world right. 
 'Tis exactly the way of the world. 
 
 331: 69. I'll fetch . . . anatomize his sin. I'll go and get 
 some one who will dissect his sin. 
 
 332: 91. Of yon stern murderer. It was a popular belief that 
 the victim's wounds bled anew in the presence of the murderer. — 
 99. motion. Power to move; helly, body, dead trunk: the word 
 had no such vulgar connotation as now. — 105. hangmen. Here 
 executioners. — 118. strage. Their common vengeance. De- 
 struction, overthrow, which is the vengeance of both famine and fire. 
 
 333: 135. And so . . . do. That is, die nobly. 
 
 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 
 
 339. Enter Vendice. Enter Vendice with a skull in his hand. 
 Collins suggests that Vendice enters on the balcony, viewing the 
 other personages below. — 4. that will do with devil. Have 
 illicit intercourse with the devil. — 13. Turns my abused . . . 
 into fret. Fret is a term used in architecture at this time, being 
 
452 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY ' 
 
 applied to an iron grating of interlaced bars. The meaning is 
 obvious. His heart strings are already abused, the awful depravity 
 of the duke who has poisoned his beloved " turns them into fret"; 
 that is, makes them interlace, thus intensifying his grief. 
 
 340: 24. That sin but seven times a day. Commit only the 
 seven deadly sins. Vendice intends this to be taken as a comment 
 on the society of his time. — 36. Outbidden. Asked to do more 
 than they are capable of. — 44. She has kept touch. Has kept 
 her appointments. — 46. their costly three-piled flesh. Their 
 flesh which is as thick and soft as three-piled velvet, the heaviest 
 kind of velvet. 
 
 341 : 54. that bald madam, Opportunity. Fortune was com- 
 monly pictured in Elizabethan times with a long forelock, but bald 
 on the back of her head. Collins explains this as a reference to the 
 effect of the lues Venerea. — 63. coat. Petticoat. — 75. strange- 
 digested fellow. A malcontent. 
 
 342: 99. Occasion ... by the foretop. Compare Oppor- 
 tunity, above. — 103. false money. Money given as pay for being 
 false. The brothers coin or pretend that Vendice is going away 
 in order to keep his disguise a secret. — 114. The law's a woman. 
 Would Justice were personified in you! 
 
 345 : 44. So, sir. You think it so ? — 56. That^lady's name. 
 The name of the wife of Antonio. — 65. 'sessed. A shortened 
 form of assessed. Usually applied to fixing the amount of taxes, 
 here to determining the penalty for a crime. 
 
 346: 75. performance. Performance of the marital duties. 
 
 347: 97. easy doctors. Doctors easily bribed to administer 
 poison. — 99. And keep church better. Keep the marriage vows 
 which he took in church. — 100. Some second wife. The duchess 
 is the second wife of the duke. — 109. I'll kill him in his forehead. 
 By making him a cuckold. — 116. jewel's mine ... in his ear. 
 Men frequently wore earrings in old time. Both Shakespeare and 
 Jonson are represented so adorned in old portraits. 
 
 348: 125. a hatted dame. At this time, women of inferior rank 
 wore hats. — 126. But that. If it were not for the fact that. — 
 140. For peeping . . . holiday windows. The reference is to 
 the pranks which were indulged in at the celebrations of saints' days, 
 " holydays " or holidays. On such occasions many debaucheries 
 were indulged in. — 144. clatter barbers' basins. These basins 
 were hung up in front of their doors as signs. — 146. Nay . . . 
 light off. Alight. The Duchess and Spurio in this and in the next 
 
THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 453 
 
 two or three speeches indulge in the common Elizabethan practice 
 of capping proverbs. — 150. as no doubt. This is the elliptical 
 use of " as." After " as " supply, " he certainly was for," etc. — 
 155. the collet. The part of a ring in which the stone is set. 
 
 349: 168. make blood rough. Enrage anyone of manly cour- 
 age. — 176. Earnest, and farewell. Earnest was money given as 
 a pledge for the payment of more, hence the kiss of the Duchess 
 is a pledge for what is to follow. — 179. woman's heraldry. The 
 horns of the cuckold. 
 
 350: 200. more beholding to report. A veiled thrust at the 
 moral standard of the times. Spurio was known to be illegitimate. 
 His brother's birth, though generally regarded as legitimate, was 
 really " more beholding to report." There was no real certainty 
 in either case. 
 
 351: 12. scholar. Scholar usually signified schoolboy and was 
 used figuratively for immaturity or naivete. — 16. Save Grace 
 the bawd. Grace is a nickname of Gratiana, which was the name 
 of Vendice's mother. Her son already suspects her of an inclination 
 to prove the bawd to her own daughter's dishonour. — 17. you 
 reach out o' the verge now. You are going entirely beyond 
 bounds in suggesting so impossible a thing. — 25. and if Time . . . 
 Time. Time was commonly personified as now in the figure of a 
 bald-headed old man. — 36. Gather him into boldness ! Urge 
 such a man to be bold ! It is plain he is bold enough. — 38. shakes 
 me. With fear of his masterful spirit. 
 
 352: 49. And not so little. And that is nothing so very trivial. 
 — 50. patrimonies washed a-pieces. Spent in drinking. — 
 54. gravel a petition. Sand was used at this time in the place of 
 blotting paper. 
 
 353: 77. And deeply . . . into all estates. Well acquainted 
 with the nature and management of all afifairs. — 87. I enter thee, 
 on my books, metaphorically ; engage thee my servant. Note the 
 later play on the word, in its sense to possess as a devil possesses a 
 man. — 87. This Indian devil. The love of money, India being 
 the seat of wealth. — 94. Many waxed lines. Carefully perfected 
 lines. Compare the expression, a man of wax. — 99. Phoenix. A 
 term applied to anything unusual. The fabulous Arabian bird 
 which existed single and rose again from its own ashes. 
 
 354 : 105. can defend Marriage is good. Can defend the thesis 
 that marriage is good. — 115. the portion of her soul . . . her 
 chastity. Castiza has probably said, or it may be taken for granted 
 
454 THE REVENGER^S TRAGEDY 
 
 that she would, if given the opportunity, say that her chastity was 
 the chief part of her soul. — ii6. bring it into expense. Make it 
 a matter of barter. — 117. money laid to sleep. Money put aside 
 as savings. — 119. gi'en't the tang. Hit the nail on the head. — 
 130. put a man in. Admit a man to her favours. 
 
 355: 153. mystery of a woman. The mystery of what a woman 
 really is. 
 
 357: 17. Melius . . . vivere. Better to die in virtue than to 
 live in disgrace. — 23. Curae , . . stupent. Light griefs speak, 
 heavier ones are silent. — 24. You deal with truth. You are 
 right. 
 
 358: 43. damnation of both kinds. Sin incurring loss of body 
 and of soul. — 48. of rare fire compact. All things, according to 
 the older science, were composed of earth, air, fire, or water. Fire 
 and air were the more spiritual elements. 
 
 361: 44. take the wall. In passing on the Elizabethan street, 
 to give the wall was to show courtesy or confess inferiority, as the 
 kennel or gutter ran in the middle of the street. To take the wall 
 was hence to assume superiority. — 45. I'm above my tongue. 
 What I say does not represent my feelings. 
 
 362: 60. like to be our sudden duke. Likely at any moment 
 (suddenly) to become our duke by the death of his decrepit father. — 
 61. every tide. All the time, constantly. — 70. wheel. Turn 
 of good fortune. 
 
 363: 98. Should keep men after men. Enable me to keep a 
 train of serving men. 
 
 365: 154. come by yourselves. Come to be yourselves. — 
 163. that knows. That is acquainted with the true character of 
 her own mother, with a play of course on the proverb: 'Tis a wise 
 child that knows his own father. 
 
 366: 182. will keep less charge. Will not bear such a heavy 
 burden. — 188. petitionary people. To make people put up 
 petitions to you because of your influence. — 202. but let horns 
 wear 'em. The antlers on which hats were hung in ancient halls, 
 with the usual double entendre. 
 
 367: 215. a hundred acres on their backs. The court-ward- 
 robe, to obtain which they had sold their lands. — 224. much un- 
 told. There is much which I leave untold. — 230. that's not 
 honesty. This refers to, " that's accounted best which is best fol- 
 lowed." Honesty of course means chastity. — 230. love. Low is 
 probably the true reading; however, a meaning is possible retaining 
 
THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 455 
 
 lo%<e. Do but note the meagreness of the love which is bestowed 
 upon it. — 233. that. Chastity. — 239. she's too inward, 
 then! Too much of your inward and real nature, too in- 
 Kiained. — 240. Slave ... in thy office! Spoken to Vendice. 
 
 -241. mother. Once more with a play on the word meaning 
 hysteria. — 242. I've outgone you, I have held my own against 
 you. 
 
 368: 251. Than those . . . look downward. " The beasts of 
 the field." — 10. season. Time. Hippolito implies that he and 
 his brother will find a time to revenge their wrongs. 
 
 370: 40. Who's that? Lussurioso thinks he hears some one, 
 owing to Vendice's words aside. 
 
 371: 98. O, lessen . . . the earth. A reference to the fifth 
 commandment. — 104. beneficial perjury. Disinterested per- 
 jury; perjury which is to yield profit to some one else. 
 
 373: 23. damn. By killing him at his pleasure, Vendice will 
 prevent him from the final absolution, thus damning him. Compare 
 Hamlet's hesitancy to kill the King because he is at his prayers. — 
 26. Mark ! there ; there. Vendice points at Spurio and his fol- 
 lowers. — 29. funeral heralds' fees. Collins suggests phease, 
 tattars or hangings; here the draperies used by conductors (heralds) 
 of funerals. 
 
 374: 61. This is the fruit of two beds. The duke's falsity to 
 his first marriage brought Spurio into the world, and the falsity of 
 the duchess to her present marriage led to the incest of which Ven- 
 dice speaks. 
 
 375: 17. Amongst the lawyers! By turning Lussurioso over 
 to justice. 
 
 377: 63. a puritan heart. Deceptive heart. 
 
 378: 82. before his eyes . . . sound. He, that is, the duke, 
 would have seen that the execution was performed before his very 
 eyes. 
 
 379: 134. Many a beauty ... In the denial. Vendice's 
 betrothed had been so poisoned. 
 
 381 : 4. myself. That is, Duke. 
 
 382: 20. that is least imprudent. The person who is least im- 
 prudent, most wary. — 22. Our office shall be sound. We shall 
 perform what we are bidden. — 34. Fine fools [are these] in 
 office ! Because they do not know the trick the brothers are playing. 
 
 384: 44. this powerful token. The signet. 
 
 385 : 66. Duns. A term derived from Duns Scotus, one of the 
 
456 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 
 
 famous schoolmen of the Middle Ages. Any kind of far-fetched 
 interpretation might be called a " Duns." — 69. a trick . . . four 
 cards. In the game of primero. — 78. good authority's bastards. 
 Authority is the power of the law. Possibly the speaker means to 
 infer that the officers have no lawful right to their offices. 
 
 386: 8. I'll divide it to thee. Communicate it to thee. 
 
 387: 40. And there's more . . . prices. The concealing of 
 vices in private is more common than the cases of these who are 
 known, etc. — 45. Known! Vendice is addressing the "skull 
 dressed up in tires " as representative of the sex, not specifically, 
 as his betrothed. — 48. I'll save . . . that labour. Hippolito 
 offers to unmask the veiled " skull." Vendice says to him " I'll 
 save your hand," etc.; then to the " skull," "I'll unmask you," 
 which he does. — 51. As such all hid. So completely hidden. 
 
 388: 75. falsify highways. Perhaps change boundaries. 
 
 389: 100. property. Implement. The context shows that the 
 idea of stage fittings is also present in the writer's mind. — 114. 
 when beauty flows. When beauty is in its ascendancy. — 
 116. You have my voice. I agree with you. 
 
 390: 138. conduct her. Produce her. 
 
 392: 190 Once . . . 'tis quitted. Adultery is sure to be paid 
 for by the adulterer. Once is often used in the sense of " sometime." 
 
 393: 224. 'Tis state ... to bleed. It is a scene of pomp and 
 splendour when a duke dies to the accompaniment of music. 
 
 399: 29. a stroke of death. Very near to kiUing Spuri'-. As 
 Hippolito repeats the phrase it means the sword's thrust, lastly he 
 turns that to a stroke of time in music. — 41. lay this iron age 
 upon thee. Punish you with all the cruelty of this cruel age. 
 — 46. moved me. Moved me from my purposes. 
 
 400: 69. does himself work to undo him. Does he work to 
 undo himself. — 78. black condition. Melancholy condition, 
 suffering from an excess of black bile. 
 
 401 : 5. 'Twill be the quainter fallacy. It will be a finer mis- 
 take than if he had accepted me in my disguise. 
 
 402: 14. the realm is clad in clay. Realm seems here to 
 mean sovereignty. The sovereignty is vested (clad) in clay, since 
 the duke, though turning to dust, is still the nominal ruler. — 25. It 
 is ... to be doubtful. It is not the least thing in intrigue to be 
 circumspect. — 44. gi' you good den. A familiar form of salu- 
 tation. Vendice assumes a rustic speech in his new disguise. 
 
 403 : 49. God in a salutation. The complete salutation which 
 
THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 457 
 
 \'endice used was, " God give you good day." — 54. black buck- 
 ram. In which law books were then bound. — 60. terms. The 
 sittings of the courts, — 63. having had . . . canvassed. That 
 is, tried. — by. sasarara. A corruption of certiorari. 
 
 404: 104. And thou . . . draw that out? That refers to 
 my meaning. You have interpreted my meaning in an entirely 
 mercenary sense. — 109. in colours. In appearance. Compare 
 the title of Bacon's famous Essays on Colours (appearances) of Good 
 and Evil. 
 
 406: 146. a likely man for pleasure. A man who seemed 
 likely to make a good pander. 
 
 406: 154. Out, slave! Lussurioso takes this as an echo of 
 what he has just said. \'endice, of course, intends it as an execra- 
 tion against Lussurioso. — 158. For chaste respect. Because of 
 her regard for chastity. 
 
 408 : 213. But I have foimd it. A means to get out of our diffi- 
 culty. — 219. but not conveyed. Conveyed away, disposed of. — 
 232. it is substantial. // refers to \"endice's plot. 
 
 409: 238. 'tis in grain. That is, dyed in grain, in the material 
 itself. — 5. I'm confident you may. Spurio's comment upon the 
 freedom with which the duchess loves. — 12. sleep soft. Live 
 luxuriously. 
 
 410: 5. iron nipples. Their daggers. — 7. quarled. Ex- 
 plained by Murray as curdled, turned sour. — 8. Cut not your 
 days for't! An allusion to the fifth commandment. — 14. thou 
 only? N'endice implies that no other woman hates the name of 
 bawd. 
 
 412 : 60. O you of easy wax ! You are so easily moulded to the 
 desire of another. — 60. Green-coloured maids. Of a pale and 
 sallow complexion. — 82. joy's a subtle elf. A spirit which easily 
 flies away. — 84. now holy-watered mead. The mother who 
 has been purified by her tears of contrition. 
 
 418: 64. Sa. sa, sa. Expressions used in fencing and in a duel 
 when a hit was made. 
 
 419: 96. a deep revenger . . . clearest man. A deep re- 
 venger can, when murder is discovered, so plot that he will be the 
 least suspected of any man. — no. Over ... In deadly fire. 
 The common belief in regard to comets. 
 
 420 : 139. Could you not stick? Remain in the favour of your 
 master, Lussurioso. 
 
 422 : 185. And if I miss his heart. If I miss his heart. Spurio 
 
458 THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY 
 
 intends to kill the new duke. — 194. that build upon. Meditate 
 upon. 
 
 423 : 2. That flow in too much milk. Are too mild, have " too 
 much of the milk of human kindness." 
 
 424: 5. That shine. The smile of Lussurioso. 
 
 425: 22. whom art and learning weds. The learned men. — 
 23. stars wear locks. That is, have tails like comets. — 39. 
 You thing ! You wretched thing ! This is spoken to the comet. 
 
 427: 83. New marrow! . . . expressed. The meaning seems 
 to be: "Here is a new scent (perhaps Tourneur wrote ' matter'); 
 I cannot be forced into confession." 
 
 429: 126. This murder . . . tongueless brass. Told on 
 monuments that commonly speak not the truth. — 135. we could 
 have nobles clipped, etc. Perhaps we could get noblemen into 
 trouble and be rewarded for it. 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 Terms readily found in an unabridged dictionary, an encyclopaedia, or a gazetteer 
 are for the most part not included in this list. 
 
 A, on. 
 
 Accepted at. taken exception to. 
 
 Accrue, to draw upon yourself. 
 
 Acquaintance, knowledge. 
 
 Adamant, loadstone. 
 
 Affection, taste, fancy. 
 
 Aim. guess. 
 
 An, if. 
 
 Anatomies, skeletons. 
 
 Angel, a gold coin worth ten 
 shillings. 
 
 Apprehend, to consider. 
 
 Apprehensive, quick of under- 
 standing. 
 
 Apricock, variant of apricot. 
 
 Arras-powder, probably orris-root 
 powder. 
 
 Arrest, to seize. 
 
 Atomies, atoms. 
 
 Attend, to give attention. 
 
 Audit, final account. 
 
 Auditory, audience. 
 
 B 
 
 Bait, to harass. 
 
 Ballassed. ballasted. 
 
 Ballated, made the subject of bal- 
 lads. 
 
 Banditto. bandit. 
 
 Banquerouts, bankrupts. 
 
 Barriers, a tilting-match, tourna- 
 ment. 
 
 Base-coined, misbegotten. 
 
 Basilisk, see Cockatrice. 
 
 Bate, to decline, fall away. 
 
 Bedstaff, a staff used to spread 
 out bedclothes. 
 
 Bent, determined. 
 
 Blackguard, the scullion who rode 
 with the kitchen utensils. 
 
 Blanks, blank-charter, something 
 to which anything may be 
 affixed, promise. 
 
 Bloodshed, bloodshot. 
 
 Blouze, a beggar's wench. 
 
 Bowelled, disembowelled. 
 
 Braches, bitch hounds. 
 
 Brave, finely and splendidly 
 
 dressed. 
 Bravely, finely. 
 Braver, more splendidly. 
 Brawns, muscles, usually of the 
 
 arms. 
 Briarius, a hundred-handed giant. 
 Bring, to accompany. 
 Bring up, to bring in. 
 Brize, the gadfly. 
 Broad, unrestrained. 
 Broke up, broke. 
 Bumbasted, stuflfed out. 
 Burganet, a closs-fitting helmet. 
 Bushing, flaring out in the form 
 
 of a bush. 
 
 Careening, lying over on one side, 
 as a ship. 
 
 Caroche, great coach. 
 
 Carve, to make a gesture of com- 
 pliment or understanding with 
 hand or finger, usually at 
 table while raising the glass to 
 the mouth. 
 
 Caters, caterers. 
 
 Cause, affair, case in law. 
 
 Censure, to think. 
 
 Censure, estimate, opinion. 
 
 Censured, judged, criticized. 
 
 Censurer. judge. 
 
 Check, to strike at, as a hawk. 
 
 Chinirgeon, surgeon. 
 
 Civility, the quality most charac- 
 teristic of a civilized com- 
 munity. 
 
 Cling, to embrace. 
 
 Clip, embrace. 
 
 Clock, hour. 
 
 4S9 
 
460 
 
 GLOSSARY 
 
 Close, secret, affording good op- 
 portunity for hiding. 
 
 Closed, disclosed. 
 
 Close-pent, close shut. 
 
 Cockatrice, a basilisk, a fabulous 
 reptile believed to kill with a 
 look. 
 
 Cod-piece, the triangular patch in 
 the front of the Elizabethan 
 dress for men, to which the hose 
 were fastened. 
 
 Collet, the setting which sur- 
 rounds the stone of a ring. 
 
 Colour, excuse, trick. 
 
 Commedled, commingled. 
 .Competent, to be measured. 
 
 Complement, external appearance. 
 
 Compound, come to some agree- 
 ment. 
 
 Comrague, comrade. 
 
 Conceit, idea, judgement, opinion ; 
 imagination, a mental picture. 
 
 Concionate, to harangue the mob. 
 
 Confine, to drive out. 
 
 Consort, company. 
 
 Conster, to construe. 
 
 Convertite, convert. 
 
 Conveyed, managed, often im- 
 plying secrecy. 
 
 Convince, to convict. 
 
 Convince, to overcome, be su- 
 perior to. 
 
 Corrasive, caustic. 
 
 Corrasived, corroded. 
 
 Coulter, ploughshare. 
 
 Countermand, to control. 
 
 Couple, to embrace. 
 
 Court it, to frequent the court. 
 
 Cozen, to cheat. 
 
 Crudded, curded. 
 
 Crusado, a Portuguese coin, 
 
 Cullis, a rich soup. 
 
 Curious, accurate. 
 
 Curst, cross. 
 
 Cypress, crepe. 
 
 Discourse, relate, tell. 
 ^.Discover, to make known. 
 Disembogue, to discharge. 
 Dispose, to dispose of. 
 Dissemblence, dissimulation. 
 Diversivolent, desiring strife. 
 Don, to do. 
 Dotterel, a bird notorious for its 
 
 foolishness. 
 Double, practise deception. 
 Drab, mistress, strumpet. 
 
 E 
 
 • 
 
 Easy, easily bribed. 
 
 Engines, mechanical devices. 
 
 Enthronized, enthroned. 
 
 Ephemerides, a table of the mo- 
 tion of the planets. 
 sPqual, just. 
 
 Estate, worldly condition. 
 
 Exorbitant, unusual because of 
 
 greatness. 
 ^Expect, suspect, anticipate. 
 
 Expresseth, brings out. 
 
 Dainty, daintily. 
 
 Danske, Dansig, perhaps Danish. 
 
 Defend, to forbid. 
 
 Digested, arranged, plotted. 
 
 Fact, deed ; criminal act. 
 
 Fall, to change. 
 
 Fall, accident, vicissitude. 
 
 Familiar, a familiar spirit. 
 
 Farthingale, hoop petticoat. 
 
 Faulting, crime. 
 
 Fearful, timid, full of fear. 
 
 Felly, outer rim of a wheel. 
 
 File, defile. 
 
 Fond, foolish. 
 
 Fondly, foolishly. 
 IForbear, to go away, move away 
 
 Former, formerly. 
 
 Found, found out. 
 
 Fox, a sword. 
 J^ramed, formed. 
 
 From, far from. 
 
 Furnished, furnished with foo^ 
 set. 
 
 i 
 
 Galliard, a lively dance. 
 Gallouses, gallows-birds, criminals. 
 Gargarism, gargle. 
 Gather, to infer. 
 
 i 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 461 
 
 Gealed, clotted, made solid by 
 cold. 
 
 General-honest, of good reputa- 
 tion. 
 
 Gennet, a small Spanish horse. 
 
 Gentles, maggots. 
 
 Give aim, to incite, encourage. 
 
 Glassen, made of glass. 
 
 Go. to walk. 
 
 Golls, hands. 
 
 Gossip, a sponsor in baptism. 
 
 Grazed, lost in the grass. 
 
 Groom, servant. 
 
 Gudgeons, small fish which are 
 very easily caught. 
 
 Gullery, deception. 
 
 Habit, dress, disguise; method of 
 conducting one's self. 
 
 Happily, passibly, by chance. 
 
 Harness, armour, the equipment 
 of a soldier. 
 
 Hasped, folded in an embrace as 
 if bound with a hasp. 
 
 Hazard, the side of the tennis 
 court into which the ball is 
 served. 
 
 Heaves, sighs. 
 
 Hodmondod, a snail. 
 
 Honesty, chastity. 
 
 Hugger-mugger, secretly, clan- 
 destinely. 
 
 Hurl, to bluster. 
 
 Husband, steward, manager. 
 
 Joy, to rejoice over. 
 Julio, a coin of about sixpence 
 value. 
 
 Kennel, gutter. 
 
 Kissing-comfits, sugar-plums per- 
 fumed to make the breath 
 sweet. 
 
 Knit, to unite. 
 
 Lay, wager. 
 
 Leaguer, camp. 
 
 Leaguerer, member of a camp, 
 
 soldier. 
 Leam, leash. 
 Leiger, permanent. 
 Levet, young hare. 
 Levies, troops. 
 Light, wanton, frivolous. 
 Limed, painted. 
 Lists, " remanents." 
 Literated, learned. 
 Little-timbered, small in body. 
 Luxur, lascivious person. 
 JXuxurious, lascivious. 
 
 Impart, to take a part in 
 Impostume, abscess. 
 Indifferent, ordinarily. 
 Infallid, infallible. 
 Infect, infected, wicked. 
 Infortunate, unfortunate. 
 Ingenious, ingenuous. 
 ingeniously, heartily, 
 
 ously. 
 Insculption, inscription. 
 Intelligencer, informer. 
 Iper, the iperquiba or 
 
 fish. 
 
 M 
 
 Manage, management, horseman- 
 ship. 
 
 Mandragora, mandrake, a sopo- 
 rific. 
 
 Mass, by the mass. 
 
 Maugre, defy. 
 
 Maze, perplexity, confusion. 
 
 Measle, sow. 
 
 Meet, to come to, fall to. 
 
 Mete, measured. 
 
 Misprision, misapprehension. 
 
 Misprized, undervalued, 
 ingenu- Moderator, judge. 
 
 Moile, mule. 
 
 Morphewed, leprous, 
 ^^^[ortification, death, 
 sucking- |Mother, hysteria. 
 
 Mulct, debt. 
 
462 
 
 GLOSSARY 
 
 Mummy, a pitch-like substance, 
 supposedly extracted from 
 mummies, used as a medicine. 
 
 N 
 
 Nake, to make naked, unsheath. 
 
 Natural, foolish. 
 
 Naught, bad in a moral sense. 
 
 Nerve, sinew. 
 
 Next, next heir. 
 
 Next to, except, unless. 
 
 Novel, novelty, new thing. 
 
 Obdure, obdurate. 
 
 Object, sight. 
 
 Oblique, perverse. 
 
 One and one, one another. 
 
 Opposite, antagonist. 
 
 Order, to draw up in order. 
 
 Owed, owned. 
 
 Palped, dark. 
 
 Paraquito, parrot. 
 
 Parlous, perilous. 
 
 Part, to depart. 
 
 Pash, strike hard, knock. 
 
 Passenger, wayfarer, traveller. 
 
 Peevish, foolish. 
 
 Period, sentence. 
 
 Perspective, a telescope. 
 
 Pewter, pewterer. 
 
 Physic, cure, work as a remedy. 
 
 Pioner, digger, ditcher. 
 
 Placket, slit in a petticoat. 
 
 Plot, plan. 
 
 Policy, the art of managing af- 
 fairs to one's own advantage; 
 art of managing public affairs. 
 
 Politic, ingeniously contrived. 
 
 Populous, popular. 
 
 Port, general appearance, often 
 applied to one who was stately 
 in bearing. 
 
 Possessed, informed. 
 
 Possessing, installation. 
 
 Poulter, poulterer. 
 
 Presence, a royal court. 
 
 Presentment, presentation. 
 President, judge. 
 Press, impress. 
 Private, privacy. 
 Proffer, to make a feint. 
 Progress, a state journey. 
 Provant, provided as a part of 
 
 the equipment of a soldier; 
 
 provision. 
 Puisne, novice. 
 PuUen, poultry. 
 Purchase, gain, booty. 
 Purse-net, a net, the mouth of 
 
 which closed like a purse. 
 Put on, to pretend to be. 
 
 vQuaint, fine. 
 
 Quaintlier, with greater skill or 
 expedition. 
 
 Quaintly, finely, precisely ; ex- 
 cellently. 
 
 Quake, to shake, make tremble. 
 
 Quality, profession, character. 
 
 Quarrel, cause. 
 
 Quat, the squatting posture of 
 a hare. 
 
 Questionless, beyond doubt. 
 
 Quicken, to enliven one. 
 
 Quietus, the statement signed at 
 the settlement of an account. 
 ^uit, excuse. 
 
 Quit, to requite. 
 
 Quittance, revenge. 
 
 Quoit, throw. 
 
 Quoted, written down. 
 
 Rase, to strike on the surface. 
 
 Ravel, to unravel. 
 
 Reach, to understand. 
 
 Receiver, procurer. 
 Ljlefine, to get possession of. 
 
 Regardant, looking backward. 
 
 Regreets, re-greetings, new greet- 
 ings. 
 
 Reportage, report. 
 
 Resolve, dissolve, separate into 
 original elements; inform. 
 
 Resolved, determined, convinced. 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 463 
 
 Resty, torpid. 
 Right, truly. 
 Rub, to put. 
 
 Supportance, support. 
 Suspect, suspicion ; question. 
 Sweet reckoning, high price. 
 Switzer, a mercenary soldier. 
 
 Sad, to sadden. 
 
 Sasarara, corruption for certiorari 
 
 Satisfied, released. 
 
 Scantle, to make scant. 
 
 Scuttles, quick steps. 
 
 'Sdeath, God's death. 
 
 Season, age or time. 
 
 Secretary, confidant, one who i Tent, to stanch, 
 knows another's secrets. ^JThan, except. 
 
 Secured, made free from care. 
 
 Security, freedom from care or 
 worry. 
 
 Seld, seldom, unusual. 
 
 Sessions-house, senate-house. 
 
 'Sfoot, by God's foot. 
 
 Shape, external appearance, dis- i 
 guise. 
 
 Shaver, a rascal, miser. 
 Sheep-biter, a petty, sneaking 
 
 thief. 
 Shrewd, cursed. 
 Skills, matters. 
 Slight, worthless, treacherous 
 'Slud, by God's blood. 
 Sluggy, inactive. 
 Smoor, smother. 
 
 Sort, company. Unbraced, unbuttoned. 
 
 Springe, a device for catching UncivU, uncivilized. 
 
 "^^^^- -jJTnclear. unshriven, unforgiven. 
 
 Squib, rocket. Uncouth, unknown, unheard of. 
 
 Stale, prostitute. j Uncrannied, without cracks 
 
 Stand, to withstand. { whereby secrets may leak out. 
 
 Statists, statesmen, men who ! Under-keeper, one of the lowest 
 conduct the affairs of a state. , ofl5cers in a jail. 
 
 Taken, fully comprehended. 
 Tallants, talons. 
 Target, shield. 
 
 Teach, to tax, take to task. 
 Tenant, servant or in the service 
 of. 
 
 Thrill, to hurl. 
 
 Time, the present state of things. 
 
 Tissue, cloth of gold or silver. 
 
 To, toward. 
 
 Told, told over, counted, hence 
 
 kept. 
 Torved, stern. 
 Touch, to try. 
 Toward, towards, in preparation, 
 
 to come off soon. 
 w^race, to follow. 
 
 Travail, trouble, also travel. 
 
 Trave, labour. 
 
 Trendle-tail, dog with a curling 
 
 tail. 
 
 Stay, to await. 
 
 Stibium, antimony. 
 
 Stigmatic, marked as with a hot 
 iron. 
 
 Still, always. 
 
 Stinted, stopped. 
 
 Strage, overthrow, ruin. 
 
 Strange-digested, of strange dis- 
 position. 
 
 Suffrage, wish as expressed by 
 voting, support. 
 
 Superfices, surface. 
 
 Undistinguished, undistinguish- 
 
 able. 
 Unequal, unjust. 
 Ure, use. 
 
 Use, interest, usury. 
 Usuring, practising usury. 
 I Uttered, sold. 
 
 Vallance. drapery. 
 Vaunt-guard, vanguard. 
 
464 
 
 GLOSSARY 
 
 Ventage, holes for the passage of 
 
 air. 
 Vizard, mask. 
 Voices, opinions. 
 
 W 
 
 Wage, pay ; enter into strife with. 
 Waged, paid v/ages. 
 Waited, watched for. 
 Watching, waking. 
 Well-mingled, capable, versatile. 
 Will, conscious purpose. 
 
 Wind, to get the wind of, scent 
 
 find out. 
 Wind up, to round up. 
 Withal, with. 
 Witty, wittily. 
 Wretchless, reckless. 
 Wring, to pinch. 
 
 Yeomen-fewterer, 
 
 men. 
 Yield, to give. 
 
 under hunts- 
 
Dea-o'^'erc jsng rie ax»<<sepe'- process. 
 --^^r-^-'Z;^-- March 2009 
 
 PreservationTectYiologies 
 
 (72-'77»2ttI