THE WORKS OF JOHN WEBSTER: 
 
 NOW FIRST COLLECTED, WITH SOME 
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR, AND NOTES. 
 
 BY THE REV. ALEXANDER DYCE, B.A. 
 
 AI.DI 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 WILLIAM PICKERING. 
 
 1830.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 Printed by William Clowes, 
 
 Stamford-street,
 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 VOLUME THE FIRST. 
 
 Page 
 
 Some Account of John Webster and his Writings v 
 
 The White Devil 1 
 
 The Dutchess of Malfi 167 
 
 VOLUME THE SECOND. 
 
 The DevU's Law-Case 1 
 
 Appius and Virginia 137 
 
 The History of Sir Thomas Wyatt . . .249 
 
 VOLUME THE THIRD. 
 
 Westward Ho 1 
 
 Northward Ho 135 
 
 A Cure for a Cuckold 257
 
 IV CONTENTS. 
 
 VOLUME THE FOURTH. 
 
 Paob 
 The Malcontent 1 
 
 The Thracian Wonder 143 
 
 A Monumental Column 259 
 
 Ode 279 
 
 Verses Addressed to Thomas Heywood . . .281 
 Verses Addressed to Henry Cockeram . . 283 
 
 Addenda 285 
 
 Index to the Notes 299
 
 SOME ACCOUNT 
 
 JOHN WEBSTER AND HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 Seldom has the biographer greater cause to lament 
 the deficiency of materials for his task than when 
 engaged on the life of any of our early dramatists. 
 Among that illustrious band John Webster occupies 
 a distinguished place ; and yet so little do we know 
 concerning him, that the present essay must consist 
 almost entirely of an account of his different pro- 
 ductions, and of an attempt to show that lie was not 
 the author of certain prose pieces which have been 
 attributed to his pen. 
 
 It is said that he was clerk of St. Andrew's, Hol- 
 born, and a Member of the Merchant Tailors' 
 Company.* 
 
 * Gildon, I believe, was the first who asserted that our author 
 was clerk of St. Andrew's. I searched the registers of that church, 
 but the name of Webster did not occur in them ; and I exa- 
 mined the MSS. belonging to the Parish Clerks' Hall, in Wood- 
 street, with as little success. He 
 VOL. I. b
 
 JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 Like some other of his contemporaries, he was 
 perhaps an actor as well as a dramatist ; but, when 
 
 He is said, I imagine, to have been a member of the Merchant 
 Tailors' Company because one of his pieces, (to be noticed after- 
 wards,) The Monument of Honour, bears on its title-page " By 
 John Webster, Taylor.''' 
 
 It was of course desirable that the Court Books of the Merchant 
 Tailors' Company should be examined j and the important in- 
 formation, illustrative of personal history, which is afforded by 
 wills, was too obvious not to cause a search to be made in Doc- 
 tors' Commons. Although something has been found in both 
 places, which perhaps relates to the poet, or to his family, it is 
 impossible to identify liim with any of the individuals of whom 
 notices have been discovered in those registers. 
 
 The following extracts from the Court Book of Merchant 
 Tailors' Company were made for me by the Clerk, 26th Dec. 
 1828, strangers, by a new regulation of the Company, not being 
 allowed to inspect their documents : — 
 
 From Court Book, vol. i. fol. 557 ; 
 
 '' Lune X° die decerabris 1571. 
 
 " Item Anne Sylver, Widdowe, puted and made free John 
 
 Webster her late Apprentise." 
 
 From Court Book, vol. ii. fol. 48 ; 
 
 " Lune XX" die Januarij A" dm 1576. 
 
 " Item John Palmer pnted John Webster his Apprtize and also 
 
 made the saide Webster free." 
 
 From Court Book, vol. vi. fol. 633 ; 
 
 " Lune Decimo Septimo die Novemb 
 
 " Anno Dm 1617. 
 
 " John Webster made free by Henry Clinckard his MV 
 
 From
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 in a tract (hereafter to be mentioned) calie 1 Histrio- 
 mastrix, &c. Hall and his coadjutor term him " the 
 
 From Index Book to Freemen ; 
 " Webster Johes — -^ Annam Silver, wid. 10 decembr 1571 
 Webster Johes — ft Johem Palmer, ...20 Januarij 1576 
 Webster Joshes — '^ Henricum Clinckard, 17 Novembris 1617." 
 
 " There are no other entries about any John Webster between 
 the years 1571 and 1617." 
 
 The following memoranda are derived from the Prerogative 
 OflSce: 
 
 John Webster, cloth worker, of London, made his will on 
 the 5th August, 1625. He bequeaths to his sister, Jane Cheney, 
 dwelling within seven miles of Norwich, 10/., with remainder, if 
 she died, to her children, and if they died, to his sister Elizabeth 
 PyssiuT; to whom he also left 10/., with remainder to her children. 
 To his sister, Anne Webstar, of Holand, in Yorkshire, tbe same sum, 
 with remainder to her children. To his father-in-law, William 
 Hattfield, of Whittington, in Derbyshire, 15/., and to his four chil- 
 dren 4/. each. To his cousin, Peter Webstar, and his wife, dwell- 
 ing in Doncaster, 40s. each. To his cousin, Peter Webstar, of 
 Whittington, in Derbyshire, he gives 10^., and if he died before 
 it was paid, it was to be given to his brother, who was a pro- 
 testant, ' for I hear that one brother of my cousin Peter is a 
 papist.' To William Bradbury, of London, shoemaker, 5/. To 
 Richard Matthew, his (the testator's) son-in-law, 16/. He mentions 
 his father-in-law, Mr. Thomas Farman. He gives his cousin, 
 Edward Curtice, 1/. 2s. To his cousin, Edward Curtis, son of 
 Edward Curtis, senior, 3/. He leaves the residue of his pro- 
 perty to his brothers and sisters in law, by his wife ; specially 
 providing that Elizabeth Walker should be one. He constitutes 
 Mr. Robert Aungel, and his cousin, Mr. Francis Ash, citizens, his 
 executors ; and his cousins, Curtis and Tayler, overseers of his 
 
 b 2 will,—
 
 JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 quondam player" they appear only to have meant 
 " writer of plays." 
 
 will, — which was proved by bis executors on the 7th October, 
 1625. 
 
 John Webster, of St. Botolph's-wilhout-Aldgate, citizen and 
 tallow-chandler, of London, made his will on the 16th February, 
 1628, and orders by it, that his body should be buried in the 
 churchyard of that parish, as near to his nephew, John Webster, 
 as might be. To Katherine, his wife, he gives some freehold 
 and copyhold lands in Clavering, in Essex, for life, with remainder 
 to his nephew, James Webster ; together with some property in 
 Houndsditch, she paying 50*. quarterly to Mary Lee, wife of 
 James Lee, of London, Merchant Tailor. To his nephew, James 
 Webster, he bequeaths lands in Sabridgeworth, in Herts, with two- 
 thirds of his printed books, sword, pike, and other arms, when of 
 full age, with reversion, if he died without heirs, to William 
 Webster, alias Wilkinson. To his three sisters, Dorothy Wil- 
 kinson, Susan Nettleton, and Alice Brookes, Tiis lauds at Clavering, 
 after the decease of his wife ; they paying to Mary Wigge, Bar- 
 bara Brend, Agnes Loveband, widow, and Clement Campe, his 
 wife's four sisters 4/., each yearly. He afterwards describes the 
 beforementioned William Webster, alias Wilkinson, as ' the 
 eldest son of my eldest sister, Dorothy Wilkinson, late wife of 
 Richard Wilkinson, of Yorkshire.' If the said William died 
 without issue, the property so given him was to go to the testator's 
 nephews, Thomas, son of Thomas Nettleton, and Edmund, son of 
 Robert Brookes. He also mentions his nephew, Henry Wilkin- 
 son ; his niece, Isabel Nettleton, then under age ; his apprentice, 
 John Wigge ; his niece, Elizabetn Brend, and her father, George 
 Brende ; to the children of John Alderston, of Chelmsford, he'gives 
 10/. each ; and to his cousin, Benjamin Crabtree, 21. And 
 directs that the beforementioned James Webster, when of age, 
 shall surrender to Michael Wilkinson a close in Cawood, in 
 
 Yorkshire,
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 The earliest notice of Webster yet discovered, 
 occurs in the papers of Henslowe : 
 
 "May 
 
 " 1602 Two Harpies, by Dekker, Drayton, Middleton, JVeb- 
 ster, and Mundy. 
 
 " Nov. 
 
 " 1602 Lady Jane, by Henry Chettle, Thomas Dekker, Tho- 
 mas Heywood, Wentworth Smith, and John Webster. 
 
 " The Second Part of Lady Jane, by Thomas Heywood, John 
 Webster, Henry Chettle, and Thomas Dekker." 
 
 Malone's Shakespeare, (by Boswell), vol. iii. p. 327. 
 
 The Two Harpies and Lady Jane are among the 
 lost dramas of our ancestors. 
 
 In 1604 Webster made some additions to the 
 Malcontent of Marston *, This was a work for 
 which he was not ill fitted. The masculine charac- 
 ter of his mind and style would very aptly har- 
 monize with the characteristics of liis predecessor ; 
 with whom, indeed, he has many qualities in corn- 
 Yorkshire, which was the testator's father's, and fell, by descent, 
 to his (the testator's) brother, James Webster, who sold it to 
 Michael Wilkinson. He appoints Mr. Thomas Overman, alder- 
 man and leatherseller, of London, the aforesaid John Alderston and 
 Thomas Santy, citizen and merchant tailor, of London, overseers, 
 and his wife Katharine, executrix, of his will, who proved it on 
 the 12th Nov., 1641, 
 
 It is evident that both these persons died without issue. 
 
 * What the additions were, we cannot exactly say : see 
 vol. iv., p. 3.
 
 JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 mon, and from the study of whose writings he 
 perhaps in no slight degree modelled his own. 
 
 In 1607 were given to the press The History of 
 Sir Thomas Wyatt, Westward Ho, and Northward 
 Ho, — all which were composed by Webster, in 
 alliance with Dekker. 
 
 That the authors did not superintend the printing 
 of Sir Thomas Wyatt there can be no doubt, as the 
 text is miserably corrupt ; and I am inclined to 
 believe that it is merely made up from fragments 
 of the drama called Lady Jane, already mentioned 
 in the quotation from Henslowe's papers. 
 
 Westward Ho, and Northward Ho, (the former of 
 which was on the stage in 1605, — see vol. iii., p. 3,) 
 are full of life and bustle, and exhibit as curious a 
 picture of the manners and customs of the time as 
 we shall anywhere find. Though by no means pure, 
 they are comparatively little stained by that gross- 
 ness from which none of our old comedies are en- 
 tirely free. In them the worst things are always 
 called by the worst names : the licentious and 
 the debauched always speak most strictly in cha- 
 racter ; and the rake, the bawd, and the courtezan, 
 are as odious in representation as they would be if 
 actually present. But the public taste has now
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. VIl 
 
 reached the highest pitch of refinement, and such 
 coarseness is tolerated in our theatres no more. 
 Perhaps, however, the language of the stage is pu- 
 rified in proportion as our morals h avedeteriorated, 
 and we dread the mention of the vices which we are 
 not ashamed to practise ; while our forefathers, under 
 the sway of a less fastidious but a more energetic 
 principle of virtue, were careless of words and only 
 considerate of actions. 
 
 In 1612, the White Devil was printed, a play of 
 extraordinary power. The plot, though somewhat 
 confused, is eminently interesting ; and the action 
 though abounding, perhaps a little overcharged, 
 ^^^th fearful circumstances, is such as the imagina- 
 tion willingly receives as credible. What genius 
 was required to conceive, what skill to embody, so 
 forcible, so various, and so consistent a character as 
 Vittoria I We shall not easily find, in the whole 
 range of our ancient drama, a more effective scene 
 than that in which she is arraigned for the murder 
 of her husband. It is truth itself. Brachiano's 
 throwing down his gown for his seat, and then, with 
 impatient ostentation, leaving it behind him on his 
 departure ; the pleader's Latin exordium ; the jest- 
 ing interruption of the culprit ; the overbearing in-
 
 JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 temperance of the Cardinal ; the prompt and un- 
 conquerable spirit of Vittoria — altogether unite in 
 impressing the mind with a picture as strong and 
 diversified as any which could be received from an 
 actual transaction of real life. Mr. Lamb, in his 
 Specimens of English Dramatic Poets, (the most 
 tasteful selection ever made from any set of wri- 
 ters,) p. 229, speaks of the "innocence -resembling 
 boldness of Vittoria." * For my own part, I ad- 
 mire the dexterity ■with which Webster has dis- 
 criminated between that simple confidence in their 
 own integrity which characterises the innocent 
 under the imputation of any great offence, and 
 that forced and practised presence of mind which 
 the hardened criminal may bring to the place of 
 accusation. Vittoria stands before her judges, alive 
 to all the terrors of her situation, relying on the 
 quickness of her wit, conscious of the influence of 
 her beauty, and not without a certain sense of pro- 
 tection, in case of extreme need, from the interposition 
 of Brachiano. She surprises by the readiness of her 
 replies, but never, in a single instance, has the 
 author ascribed to her one word which was likely to 
 
 • See the quotation in vol. i. p. 73, of the present work.
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 have fallen from an innocent person under similar 
 circumstances. Vittoria is undaunted, but it is by 
 effort. Her intrepidity has none of the calmness 
 which naturally attends the person who knows that 
 his own plain tale can set down his adversary ; but 
 it is the high- wrought and exaggerated boldness of 
 a resolute spirit, — a determination to outface facts, 
 to brave the evidence she cannot refute, and to act 
 the martyr though convicted as a culprit. Scattered 
 throughout the play are passages of exquisite poetic 
 beauty, which, once read by any person of taste and 
 feeling, can never be forgotten. 
 
 Three Elegies on the most lamented death of Prince 
 Henry appeared in 1613: the part of this tract 
 written by Webster, entitled A Monumental Column, 
 &c. contains some striking lines, but nothing very 
 characteristic of its author. 
 
 In 1623 were published The Didchess of Malfi 
 (which must have been acted as early as 1619, see 
 vol. i. p. 170) and The Devil's Law-case. Of the 
 latter of these plays the plot is disagreeable, and 
 not a little improbable, but portions of the serious 
 scenes are certainly not unworthy of Webster. 
 Few dramas possess a deeper interest in their 
 progress, or are more affecting in their conclu- 
 sion, than The Dutchess of Malfi. The passion of
 
 JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 the Dutchess for Antonio, a subject most difficult 
 to treat, is managed with infinite delicacy ; and, in 
 a situation of great peril for the author, she con- 
 descends without being degraded, and declares the 
 affection with which her dependant had inspired her 
 without losing anything of dignity and respect. Her 
 attachment is justified by the excellence of its ob- 
 ject ; and she seems only to exercise the privilege 
 of exalted rank in raising merit from obscurity. 
 We sympathise from the first moment in the loves 
 of the Dutchess and Antonio, as we would in a long 
 standing domestic affection, and we mourn the more 
 over the misery that attends them because we feel 
 that happiness was the natural and legitimate fruit 
 of so pure and rational an attachment. It is the 
 wedded friendship of middle life transplanted to 
 cheer the cold and glittering solitude of a court : it 
 flourishes but for a short space in that unaccustomed 
 sphere, and is then violently rooted out. How pa- 
 thetic is the scene where they part never to meet 
 again ! And how beautiful and touching is her ex- 
 clamation ! 
 
 " the birds that live i' tii' field, 
 On the wild benefit of nature, live 
 Hai)pier than we ; for they may choose their mates, 
 And carol their sweet pleasures to the spring ! " 
 
 (vol. i,, p. 253.)
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 The sufferings and death of the imprisoned Dutchess 
 haunt the mind like painful realities ; but it is the 
 less necessary to dwell on them here, as no part of 
 our author's writings is so well known to the ge- 
 nerality of readers as the extraordinary scenes 
 where they are depicted. In such scenes Webster 
 was on his own ground. His imagination had a 
 fond familiarity with objects of awe and fear. The 
 silence of the sepulchre, the sculptures of marble 
 monuments, the knoUing of church bells, the cear- 
 ments of the corpse, the yew that roots itself in 
 dead men's graves, are the illustrations that most 
 readily present themselves to his imagination. If 
 he speaks of love, and of the force of human passion, 
 his language is, — 
 
 " This is flesh and blood, sir ; 
 'Tis not the figure cut in alabaster, 
 Kneels at my husband's tomb " — 
 
 (vol. i., p. 198.) 
 
 and when we are told that 
 
 " Glories, like glow-worms, afar off shine bright. 
 But look'd to near, have neither heat nor light," 
 
 (vol. i. p. 113.) 
 
 we almost feel satisfied that the glow-worm which 
 Webster saw, and which suggested the reflection,
 
 JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 was sparkling on the green sod of some lowly 
 grave. 
 
 Of the piece next to be mentioned I have spared 
 no pains in endeavouring to procure a copy, but 
 unfortunately I have not succeeded *. It is a small 
 pamphlet, entitled The Monument of Honour, at the 
 confirmation of the right worthy brother John Goare 
 in his high office of his Majesty's lieutenant over his 
 royal chamber, at the charge and expense of the right 
 ivorthy and worshipfull fraternity of eminent Mer- 
 chant-Taylors. Invented and written by John Web- 
 ster, Taylor. 1624. 4to. 
 
 Appius and Virginia \v3iS printed in 1654. When 
 I consider its simplicity, its deep pathos, its unob- 
 trusive beauties, its singleness of plot, and the easy 
 unimpeded march of its story, I cannot but suspect 
 
 * It is not in the Bodleian Library, nor in the British Museum ; 
 nor is it possessed by several of the most celebrated book-col- 
 lectors of the present day, whose liberality in affording the use of 
 their treasures for literary purposes I am bound to acknowledge. 
 I beg leave here to offer my most respectful thanks to his Grace 
 the Duke of Devonshire, who took the trouble of ascertaining that 
 the Pageant in question was not in his library : and also to the 
 Earl Gower, who very obligingly searched the dramatic collection 
 at Bridgwater-House for the same piece. 
 
 Nichols was unable to obtain the sight of a copy of The Monu- 
 ment of Honour : see his Progresses of James the First, vol. iv. 
 p. lOOG.
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 that there are readers who will prefer this di-ama 
 to any other of our author's productions. 
 
 Before the time that Appius and Virginia was 
 given to the press, Webster was, in all probability, 
 dead. 
 
 In ]fi6 i, Kirkman, the bookseller, published from 
 manuscripts in his possession, A Cure for a Cuckold 
 and The Thracian Wonder, asserting that these 
 were written by our author, in conjunction with 
 William Rowley. Webster's hand may, I think, be 
 traced in parts of the former play. Of any share 
 in the concoction of the latter, he certainly was 
 guiltless. 
 
 Webster composed several dramas of which only 
 the names remain ; and others, doubtless, of which 
 there is no memorial. Henslowe's notice of the 
 Two Harpies and Lady Jane has been already cited, 
 at p. V. Among the extracts from Sir Henry 
 Herbert's official register, given by G. Chalmers, 
 {Supplemental Apology^ p. 219,) we find "A new 
 Tragedy called A Late Murther of the sonn upon the 
 Mother, written by Forde and Webster;" of which, 
 when we consider how well the terrible subject was 
 fitted to the powers of the two writers, we cannot 
 fail to regret the^ loss. Webster himself, in the 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 XIV JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 dedication to The DeviPs Law-case, (vol. ii. p. 5), 
 mentions The Guise as one of his dramatic per- 
 formances. 
 
 The following lines, concerning our author, are 
 found in Henry Fitzgeffrey's Notes from Black- 
 fryers, 1 620 ; 
 
 '•' But ir st ! with liim Crabbed (fVehsterio) 
 
 The Play-wright, Cart-wright : whether ? either ! ho — 
 
 No further. Looke as yee'd bee look't into: 
 
 Sit as ye woo'd be Read: Lord! who woo'd know him? 
 
 Was ever man so mangl'd with a Poem ? 
 
 See how he drawes his mouth awry of late, 
 
 How he scrubs ; wrings his wrests : scratches his Pate ; 
 
 A Midwife ! helpe ? By his Braines coitus 
 
 Some Cetitaure strange : some huge Bucephalun, 
 
 Or Pallas (sure ingendred in his Braine,) 
 
 Strike Fulcan with thy hammer ouce againe. 
 
 This is the Crittick that (of all the rest) 
 rde not have view mee, yet I feare him least, 
 Heer 's not a word cursivety I have Writ, 
 But hee'l Induslrioushj examine it. 
 And in some VI monlhes hence (or there about) 
 Set in a shamefull sheete, my errors out. 
 But what care 1 P it will be so obscure 
 That none shall understand him (I am sure)." 
 
 Sig. F. 6. 
 
 An inquiry now arises was John Webster, the 
 dramatist, the same John Webster who was au- 
 thor of The Saints' Guide, of a celebrated tract 
 called Academiarvm Examcn, or The Examination
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 of Academies, and of a volume of sermons, entitled 
 The Judgment Set and the Books opened ? Our dra- 
 matist, as we have seen, was a writer for the stage 
 in 1602 ; and the first of the tracts just mentioned 
 was printed in 1653 ; if he was twenty when he as- 
 sisted in the composition of the Two Harpies, he must 
 have reached his seventy -first year when The Saints' 
 Guide appeared. Those who are inclined to sup- 
 pose that he was the author of that tract will not, 
 of course, allow his advanced age to be employed 
 as an argument against the probability of their 
 hypothesis ; and it must be confessed that many 
 persons at as late a period of life have composed 
 works indicating that they retained the full pos- 
 session of their intellectual powers. I think I shall 
 be able to show hereafter that he was neither the 
 author of it, nor of the other two pieces noticed 
 above : in the meantime it is necessary to describe 
 them more particularly. 
 
 The Saints' Guide, or Christ the Rule and Ruler 
 of Saints. Manifested by way of Positions, Consec- 
 taries, and Queries. Wherein is contained the Effi- 
 cacy of Acquired Knowledge ; the Rule of Christians ; 
 the Mission and Maintenance of Ministers ; and the 
 Power of Magistrates in Spiritual Thing. By John 
 
 c 2
 
 XVI JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 Webster, late Chaplain in the Army, a 4to. tract, was 
 first printed in 1653: it was reprinted in the same 
 form the following year, and also in 12mo., in 
 1 699 *. Assuredly no trace of the manly eloquence, 
 and thrilling pathos, and high-toned morality which 
 distinguish Webster the poet can be traced in a 
 single sentence of this mysterious and fanatical 
 production : it is altogether stupid and worthless. 
 In his prefatory address, " To all that love the 
 Lord Jesus Christ in Truth and Sincerity," the 
 author says, " For after the Lord, about eighteen 
 years ago, had in his wonderful! mercy brought me 
 to the sad experience of mine own dead, sinfull, lost, 
 and damnalde condition in nature, and fully showed 
 me the nothingness and helplessness of creaturely 
 power, either without or within me," &c. Mr. J. 
 P. Collier, who endeavours to prove that the author 
 of The Saints* Guide and the dramatist are the same 
 person, thinks that the words "damnable condition," 
 which have just been quoted, " can hardly mean 
 anything but his ' damnable condition ' as a player f.'' 
 
 * The dedication to this edition is dated " April 28, 1663," 
 which is doubtless an error of the printer for 1653 ; the two earlier 
 editions, of which it is an exact copy, having the dedication dated 
 April 28, 1653. 
 
 f I'oetkal Dcc'JTncron, vol. i. p. 262-
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. XVll 
 
 For my own part, I have no doubt that the passage 
 alludes to the author's having forsaken the Church 
 of England for the absurd ravings of the Puritans. 
 
 Academiarum Examen, or the Examination of 
 Academies. Wherein is discussed and examined the 
 Matter, Method, and Customes of Academick and 
 Scholastick Learning, and the insufficiency thereof 
 discovered and laid open ; As also some Erpedients 
 proposed for the Reforming of Schools, and the per- 
 fecting and promoting of all kind of Science. Offered 
 to the judgements of all those that love the projiciencie 
 of Arts and Sciences, and the advancement of Learn- 
 ing. By Jo. Webster. In moribus et institutis Aca- 
 demiarum, Collegiorum, et similium conventuum, 
 quoe ad doctorum hominum sedes, et operas mutuas 
 destinata sunt, omnia progressui scientiarum in ul- 
 terius adversa inveniri. Franc. Bacon, de Veru- 
 lamio lib. de cogitat., &c. appeared in 4to. in 1654. 
 That the person who wrote The Saints' Guide was 
 the author of the present tract, there can be no 
 doubt : both pieces are put forth by the same pub- 
 Usher, Giles Calvert *, and a second edition of 
 
 * " To conclude, the world may here see what stuffe still 
 comes from Lame Giles Calvers shop, that forge of the Devil, 
 from whence so many blasphemous, lying, scandalous, Pamphlets, 
 
 for
 
 Xviii JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 the former was printed during the year in which 
 the latter appeared. Though the writer was con- 
 verted to Puritanism and Republicanism, he at least 
 had the merit or the mischance not to derive any 
 profit from the spoils of the loyal men whom the 
 Saints so unsparingly plundered. It may be sup- 
 posed, he says, by many, that his attack on the 
 universities was grounded in the hope of plunder ; 
 but, he adds, " I would have such to know that I 
 am no dean nor master, president nor provost, 
 fellow nor pensioner, neither have I tyths appro- 
 priate nor impropriate, augmentation, nor state pay, 
 nor all the levelling that hath been in these times 
 hath not mounted nor raised me, nor can they make 
 me fall lower, Qui cadit in terram, non hahet unde 
 cadat. And he that would raise himself by the ruins 
 of others, or warm himself by the burning of schools, I 
 wish him no greater plague than his own ignorance, 
 nor that he may ever gain more knowledge than to 
 
 for many yecrs past, have spread over the land, to the great dis- 
 honour of the Nation, in the sight of the Nations round about us, 
 and to the provocation of God's wrath against us, which will cer- 
 tainly breake forth, both upon the actors and tolerators of such 
 intoUerable errours, without speedy reformation and amendment." 
 Hislriomastur, a Jlfiip for If'ehster, &c. 1654, p. 215.
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. Xlt. 
 
 live to repent." Epistle to the Reader. Though 
 the Acad. Examen contains a good deal of nonsense 
 about the language of nature, astrology, &c. ; and 
 though all the theological portion of it is as ridiculous 
 and fanatical as The Saints' Guide, yet, taken as a 
 whole, it manifests great variety of learning and 
 clearness of judgment. 
 
 To this powerful tract, during the year of its 
 publication, two answers were written. The first 
 was by Seth Ward, afterwards Bishop of Salisbury, 
 and Dr. John Wilkins, of Wadham College * ; it 
 was entitled, VindicicB Academiarum, containing 
 Some briefe Animadversiona upon Mr. Webster's 
 Book, s tiled The Examination of Academies. Toge- 
 ther with an appendix concerning what M. Hohbs and 
 M. Dell have published on this argument. The 
 authors had evidently never dreamed of their ad- 
 versary being the once-celebrated dramatist. " I 
 have heard from very good hands," says Wilkins, 
 " that he [Webster] is suspected to be a Fi'iar, his 
 conversation being much with men of that way ; and 
 the true design of this Booke being very suitable 
 
 * Wilkins wrote only the epistle to the author, signed N. S.; 
 the remainder is by Ward, signed H. D. : the signatures are the 
 final letters of their names.
 
 50C JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 to one of that profession, Besides that his super- 
 ficial! and confused knowledge of things is much 
 about that elevation." — p. 6. "In compliance, 
 therefore, with your desire," says Ward, " I mean 
 to runne over this reverend author." — p. 9. " You 
 know, sir," he continues, " and have observed in 
 your letter to mee, how vast a diiference there is 
 betwixt the Learning and Reputation of Mr. Hobbs 
 and these two Gentlemen, and how scornfully he 
 will take it to be ranked with a Friar [Webster] 
 and an Enthusiast." — p. 5 1 . The second answer to 
 the Acad. Examen was called* Histrio-Maslix. 
 A Wliip for Webster (as 'tis conceived) the Quon- 
 dam Player, or An examination of one John Webster s 
 delusive Examen of Academies, ^c. In the end there 
 is annexed an elaborate defence of Logic, by a very 
 Learned Pen. Mark how carefully the words " as 
 'tis conceived," are inserted here ! One half of this 
 answer is the production of Thomas Hall, the puri- 
 tan, of whom an account may be found in Wood's 
 Alhence Oxonienses, vol. iii, p. 677, ed. Bliss ; the 
 other half (the defence of Logick) is from the pen 
 
 * This piece forms part of a small duod. volume, the general 
 title of which is rindicice Literarum : The Schools Guarded) SfC. 
 Sfc. By Thomas Hall, Ti.D. and Pastour of Kings -Norton.
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 of a " reverend acute Logician,'' whose name is not 
 given. " We see then" says Hall, addressing Web- 
 ster, "who you are, viz. an Herculean LeveUer, a 
 Famalisticall Lion, a dissembling Fryar, a Profane 
 Stage Player, a professed friend to Judiciall Astro- 
 logy and Astrologers," &c. p, 198. In this passage 
 we must observe that Hall merely takes it for granted, 
 from what had been said before, that the author of 
 the Acad. Examen was a player. The " reverend 
 acute Logician" commences his defence of the Sta- 
 girite thus : " This Mr. Webster (as I suppose) is 
 that Poet whose glory was once to be the Author of 
 Stage -plajes (as the Devil's Law-case) but now the 
 Tutor of Universities. But because his Stage Play- 
 ers have been discountenanced by one of the late 
 Parliaments ; does hee therefore addresse himselfe to 
 the Array, for the like force, and as little favour in 
 behalfe of all Humane Learning ? for advancement 
 whereof, the best way being already found, he that 
 seeks for another, desires worse (and so none at all) 
 though he pretend to a Reformation. For my own 
 part, I could wish that his Poetry still had flourished 
 upon Mr. Johnson's [Ben Jonson's] account, in his 
 Epistle before one of his Playes (the Fox) to the 
 two most equal Sisters, the Universities (a far
 
 XXli JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 better address than this here) but it is odious to be 
 like the Fox in the Fable, who having lost his own 
 ornament envied his fellows theirs by pretending 
 burthen or inconvenience." — pp. 217-18. In those 
 days there could have been no difficulty of ascer- 
 taining whether the author of the Acad. Examen 
 was or was not the quondam dramatist, and we 
 may be sure that the puritanical Hall and his 
 coadjutor must have made particular enquiries into 
 the matter. If they had been in possession of t?ie 
 fact that their adversary had ever been guilty of 
 play-writing or play-acting, they would not have 
 left their readers in any doubt on the subject ; they 
 would never have used the expressions " as 'tis 
 conceived," or " as I suppose ;" they would have 
 charged Webster with his theatrical sins in the most 
 direct terms, and they would have alluded to them 
 over and over again, with many a coarse and bitter 
 taunt. They were quite aware that their adver- 
 sary was not the dramatist; and they threw out 
 the supposition of their being the same person, 
 as a likely means of bringing discredit on the for- 
 mer in times of canting and hypocrisy *. 
 
 * Mr. J. P. Collier, in the work already quoted, compares two 
 
 passages
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 In 1654 appeared also a quarto volume, entitled 
 The Judgement Set, and the Bookes Opened. Religion 
 
 passages of the Acad. Examen with two from the works of our 
 dramatist : 
 
 " Oil p. 3 of the Examen is this excellent sentence, ' So hu- 
 mane knowledge is good and excellent, and is of manifold and 
 transcendant use, while moving in its own orb ; but when it will 
 see further than its own light can lead it, it then becomes blind 
 and destroys itself.' This sentiment, but more tersely and poeti- 
 cally expressed, is in The White Devil; 
 
 ' While we look up to heaven we confound 
 Knowledge with knowledge : O I am in a mist.' 
 
 There is a resemblance. But it is stronger in the next quotation 
 and comparison I shall make. On p. 15 of the Examen is this 
 simile : ' Like a curious spider's web cunningly interwoven with 
 many various and subtill intertextures, and fit for nothing but the 
 insnaring, manacling, and intricating of rash, forward, unwary, 
 and incircumspect men : ' in the tragedy of The Duchess of 
 Malfy are the following parallel lines : 
 
 ' the law to him 
 Is like a fowl black cobweb to a spider ; 
 He makes it his dwelling, and a prison 
 To entangle those shall feed him.' " 
 
 Poet. Dec, vol. i., p. 262-3. 
 
 Between the first two passages which Mr. Collier compares, it 
 must be allowed that there is some resemblance : but the simi. 
 larity of the second two affords no grounds for inferring that they 
 proceeded fi-om the same pen, as the following quoUtions (and 
 the note, vol. ii., p. 308) decidedly shew ; 
 
 « Others
 
 XXIV JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 Tried whether it be of God or of men. The Lord 
 Cometh to visit his own, For the time is come that 
 Judgement must begin at the House of God. 
 
 " Others report, it [law] is a spider's web 
 Made to entangle the poore helplesse flies, 
 Whilst the great spiders that did make it first, 
 And rule it, sit i* th' midst secure and laugh." 
 
 Field's ^ IVoman's a fVeatkerconk, 
 ed. 1612, Sig. E. 
 
 " Laws are like spider-webs, small flies are tane, 
 Whiles greater flies break in and out againe." 
 
 Brathwait's Honest Ghost, 1658, p. 79. 
 
 " Law 's as a spider's-web, and ever was, 
 It take:> the little flies, lets great ones passe." 
 
 Id., p. 170. 
 
 " our Laws 
 Must be no Spider-webs to take small Flyes, 
 And let tlie great ones 'scape." 
 
 Ladij Ainnonij, 1659, Sig. I 3. 
 
 " Your Laws, like Spiders webs are not a snare 
 For little flyes, that them the bigge may breake." 
 
 Lord Sterline's Tragedy of Croesus, act iii., sc. 2. 
 Recreations with the Muses, 1637, p. 24. 
 
 " It had been more for your credit and comfort to have im- 
 ployed your time and Talent in defence of Languages, Arts, and 
 Sciences, (especially in such a season as this, when so many 
 decry them) then thus to weave the Spiders Web, which may 
 peradventure catch some feeble flies, when stronger ones break 
 thorough."— //««/nWj«s/i>, yi fVhip for flebsler, &c. 1654, 
 p. 199. 
 
 I would
 
 AND HIS WRITINOS- 
 
 XXV 
 
 (The Sheep from the Goats, 
 and 
 The Precious from the Vile. 
 
 And to discover the Blasphemy of those that say, 
 
 ■Apostles, 1 f Found Lyars, 
 
 Teachers, I Deceivers, 
 
 They are\ Alive, \but areiDead, 
 
 Rich, Poore, blind, naked, 
 
 ^Jewes, -' The Synagogue of Satan. 
 
 In severall Sermons at Alhallows Lumbard-street, 
 By John Webster, A servant of Christ and his Church. 
 Micah 3. 5. ^c. Thus saith the Lord, concerning the 
 Prophets that make my people erre, that bite with 
 their teeth, and cry peace : and he that putteth not 
 into their mouths, they prepare war against him: 
 Therefore night shall be upon them, that they shall not 
 have a vision, 8^c. The Sun shall goe down over the 
 prophets, and the Day shall be dark. Their seers 
 
 T would not have the reader imagine, from this note, that I 
 think lightly of my friend Mr. Collier's Poetical Decameron, 
 which contains much curious information not to be found else- 
 where : the forthcoming History of the English Stage and Dra- 
 matic Writing till the time of Shakespeare, by the same gentleman, 
 a work of the most extensive research, and formed partly from 
 materials of which no preceding author has made use, will be 
 a very valuable accession to our literature. 
 
 VOL, I. d
 
 XXVI JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 slicdl be ashamed, and the Deviners confounded : yea, 
 they shall All cover thdr lips, for there is no answer 
 of God. Little information concerning the author 
 is to be gathered from these tedious effusions, which 
 resemble the style of the Saints Guide, and which 
 were published at the desire of his hearers, who 
 were greatly delighted with his preaching, " appre- 
 hending it to be the Bridegroomes voyce in him, 
 and therefore savory to them*.'' Webster was 
 absent from London when tliey were printed : " He 
 being now," says an Address to the Reader, " at 
 a great distance from the Press." " Here," says 
 a second Address to the Reader, " thou shalt not 
 find Terms of Art, nor querks of humane Learning 
 and Fallen Wisdom (though the party through 
 whom it was conveied excel in natural acquirements 
 
 as much as the most) but naked truth." 
 
 " And thereby thou mayest see (if thou be not blind 
 
 " The Church of AUhallows Lombard Street, with all the do- 
 cuments belonging to it, was destroyed by the great fire of London 
 in 1666 : John Weston, the Rector, " was for his Loyalty se- 
 questred by the Rebels, about 1642. [Merc. Rust. p. 2531." 
 Newcourt's Repertorium Ecclcaiasticum Parochiale LowUncnse 
 vol. i. p. 255. " He [Weston] was sequesterd by the House 
 about July, 1643; at which time J. Cordell was, by the same 
 authority, thrust in to succeed him." Walker's Account of the 
 Sufferings ufthe Clergy, p. 180.
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 in the carnal conceits of thy earthly wisdom, as 
 most of the Earthen Saints of our times are) what 
 self-denial is wrought in this Creature, through 
 which the Eternal Spirit hath breathed forth these 
 ensuing precious truths, that he having and enjoy- 
 ing all those humane Excellencies of Learning and 
 Knowledge which are so in the world's account," 
 &c. To the volume is appended A Respomion To 
 certaine pretended Arguments against my Book called 
 The Saints Guide. 
 
 We have already noticed that an answer to the 
 Academiarum Examen was written by Seth Ward, 
 afterwards Bishop of Salisbury. Now, Dr. Walter 
 Pope, in his Life of that prelate, expressly says that 
 the author of the Examen was " one Webster of 
 Cletherow* ;" and in all matters connected with the 
 
 * A monument was erected to the memory of Bishop Ward by 
 his nephew, with a Latin inscription, which Dr. Pope characterises 
 as long, erroneous, heavy, and tedious, but which he gives with 
 what he calls a " sifted and garbled" translation : the following 
 passage of it — " contra ingruentem Fanaticorum barbariem quid 
 litteris ubique praesteterit, vindicatae agnoscunt Academiee," Pope 
 renders thus ; '' he wrote. . . . also a Vindication of the Universi- 
 ties, in reply to one Webster of Cletherow, who had writ a 
 Pamflet to prove them useless." — Life of Seth, Lord Bishop of 
 Sa/M6M;-y, 1697, pp. 185, 188. In an earlier part of the work 
 just quoted we are told, " Whilst he [Ward] continued in that 
 
 d2
 
 XXVm JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 Bishop, Dr. Poi)e's antliority is of great weight. " f 
 am not," says he, " altogether unprovided for such 
 a Work, ha^nng, during ray long acquaintance with 
 Him and his Friends, informed myself of most of 
 the considerahle Circumstances of his Life." — 
 Life of Selh, Lord Bishop of Salisbury, 1697, p. 2. 
 " And now I have l)rought him to Oxford, where I 
 first became acquainted with him, I can proceed 
 upon more certain grounds ; I promise not to put 
 any thing upon the Reader now, but what either I 
 know or have heard attested by those whom I could 
 trust." — Id. p. ?2. Let us therefore examine what 
 resemblance there is between the incidents in the 
 lives of the author of the Examen Academiarum and 
 of John Webster of Clitheroe ; let us also see if we 
 can trace any similarity of thought and style in their 
 writings. The works of the former have been just 
 described ; the productions of the latter are, Me- 
 tallocjraphia : or, An Histoi-y of Metals. Wherein is 
 declared the signs of Ores and Minerals hoth before 
 and after digging, the causes and manner of their 
 generations, their kinds, sorts and differences ; with 
 
 Chair, besides his Public Lectures, he wrote several Books . . 
 one, in English and a jocose stile, against one Webster, asserting 
 the Usefulness of the Universities." — p. 27.
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 the description of sundry neio Metals or Semi-Me- 
 tals, and many other things pertaining to Mineral 
 knowledge. As also, the handling and shelving of 
 their Vegetability, and the discussion of the most dif- 
 ficult Questions belonging to Mystical Chymistry, as 
 of the Philosophers Gold, their Mercury, the Liquor 
 Alkahest, Aurum potabile, and such like. Gathered 
 forth of the most approved Authors that have written 
 in Greek, Latine, or High Dutch ; With some Obser- 
 vations and Discoveries of the Author himself. By 
 John Webster, Practitioner in Physick and Chirur- 
 gery. Qui principia naturalia in seipso ignoraverit, 
 hie jam multum remotus est ab arte nostra, quaniam 
 7ion habet radicem veram supra quam intentionem, 
 suam fundet. Geber. Sum. perfect. 1. c. i. p. 21. 
 
 Sed non ante datur telluris operta subire, 
 Auricunios quam quis discerpseril arbore foetus. 
 
 Virg. ^neid. I. 6. 
 
 London, Printed by A. C. for Walter Kettilby at the 
 Bishops-Head in Dux-Mane*, 1671, Mo; and The 
 Displaying of supposed Witchcraft. Wherein is af- 
 firmed that there are many sorts of Deceivers and 
 Impostors. And Divers persons binder a passive 
 
 " Instead of " Ducklanc " some copies have " S/, Paul's 
 Church-yard."
 
 XXX JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 Delusion of Melancholy and Fancy. But that there 
 is a Corporeal League made betwixt the Devil and 
 the Witch, Or that he sucks on the Witches Body, has 
 Carnal Copulation, or that Witches are turned into 
 Cats, Dogs ; raise Tempests, or the like, is utterly 
 denied and disproved. Wherein also is handled, tlie 
 Existence of Angels and Spirits, the truth of Appa- 
 ritimis, the Nature of Astral and Sydereal Spirits, 
 the force of Charms and Philters ; tvith other abstruse 
 matters. By John Webster, Practitioner in Physick. 
 Falsa elenim opiniones Hominum preeoccupantes, non 
 solum surdos, sed et cacos faciunt, ita ut videre ne- 
 queant, qucB aliis perspicua apparent. Galen, lib. 8. 
 de Comp. Med. London, Printed by J. M. and ore to 
 be sold by the Booksellers in London. 1677, folio. 
 
 The author of the Acad. Examen was educated 
 at Cambridge.* " On the 12th of October, 1653," 
 says Antony Wood, " he [i. e. William Erbury] with 
 Jolm Webster, sometimes a Cambridge scholar, 
 endeavoured to knock down learning and the mi- 
 nistry together, in a disputation that they then had 
 against two ministers in a church in Lombard Street 
 
 * I could find no mention of any John Webster in the Indices 
 to Cole's voluminous MS. collections in the Brit. Museum.
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 in London." — Athen. Oxon. vol. iii. p. 361, ed. Bliss. 
 We must bear in mind while we read the preceding 
 extract that the Sermons of the author of the Acad. 
 Examen were preached in All-Hallows, Lombard 
 Street, " As for Dell [who also attacked the Uni- 
 versities, and to whom Seth Ward wrote an answer, 
 published together vnth his reply to Webster] he 
 had been educated in Cambridge ; and Webster, 
 who was then, or lately, a chaplain in the parlia- 
 ment army, had, as I conceive, been educated there 
 also." — Id. vol. iv. p. 250. Webster of Clitheroe, 
 we may gather from the followng passage, had 
 been educated at the same seat of learning: " But 
 I that then [i. e. in my youth] was much guilty of 
 curiosity, and loth to be imposed upon in a thing of 
 that nature, then also knowing the way and manner 
 how all the common Jugglers about Cambridge and 
 London (who made a trade of it) did perform their 
 tricks," &c. — The Displaying of supposed Witchcraft, 
 p. 62. 
 
 The author of the Acad. Examen was a preacher. 
 Webster of Clitheroe, " practitioner in physic," had 
 also been in holy orders ; " Dr. Thomas Morton, 
 then Bishop of Coventry and Litchfield : to whose 
 memoiy I cannot but owe and make manifest all due
 
 JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 respect, because he was well known unto me, and 
 by the imposition of whose hands I was ordained 
 Presbyter when he was Bishop of Durham." — The 
 Displaying of supposed Witchcraft, p. 275. " About 
 the year 1634, .... it came to pass that this said 
 Boy was brought into the Church of KUdwick, a 
 large parish Church, where I (being then Curate 
 there) was preaching in the afternoon." — Id. p, 277. 
 
 The author of the Acad. Examen was an army- 
 chaplain. Webster of Clitheroe it may be inferred 
 from the following passage had served in the same 
 capacity ; " And it vnll as far fail that wounded 
 bodies that have been slain in the wars, after the na- 
 tural heat be gone, will upon motion bleed any fresh 
 or crimson blood at all ; for we ourselves in the late 
 times of Rebellion have seen some thousands of dead 
 bodies, that have had divers wounds, and lying 
 naked and being turned over and over, and by ten 
 or twelve thrown into one pit, and yet not one of 
 them have issued any fresh and pure blood." — The 
 Displaying of supposed Witchcraft, p. 306. 
 
 The author of the Acad. Examen was a believer 
 in astrology ; so was Webster of Clitheroe ; as 
 passages hereafter to be quoted from their works 
 will shew. The author of the Acad. Examen was a
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 devoted admirer of the mystic chemistry of Pa- 
 racelsus, Helmont, &c. ; so was Webster of Cli- 
 theroe ; see the citations below. 
 
 In a word, I believe that John Webster who 
 wrote the Academiarum Examen, ^r., and John 
 Webster, author of The Displaying of supposed 
 
 Witcha'oft, and Metallographia, were the same in- 
 dividual. His theological and political opinions he 
 seems to have changed more than once; and to that 
 unsteadiness he perhaps alludes, when addressing 
 some of his " worshipful and honoured friends," in 
 his old age, he says, " you have all fully known me, 
 and the most of the particulars of my life, both my 
 follies and frailties." — The Displaying of supposed 
 
 Witchcraft, Dedication. Perhaps, too, the rough 
 usage of which he complains was occasioned by 
 those" follies and frailties ;" "also it is not un- 
 known unto you," he continues, " that I have had 
 a large portion of Trouble and Persecution in this 
 outward world, wherein you did not, like many 
 others, stand aloof off, as though you had not known 
 me, but like persons of Justice, and true Magna- 
 nimity, durst both look upon and assist wronged in- 
 nocency, though besmeered over with the envious 
 dirt of malicious scandals, and even in that very
 
 X'lXlV JOHN WEBSTER. 
 
 conjuncture of time, when the whole giddy Troop 
 of harking Dogs and ravenous Wolves did labour to 
 devour me. But then, even then did put to your 
 lielping hands, and were free to declare what you 
 knew of mine innocency." — Id. Ibid.; and again, 
 he tells us, " I saw and read the letter .... 
 and had a copy of it until about the year 1658, 
 when I had it and many other books and papers 
 taken from me." — Id. p. 300. 
 
 I proceed to exhibit some striking parallel pas- 
 sages from the Academiartim Examen, The Display- 
 ing of svpposed Witchcraft, and the Metallographia : 
 whoever compares them with attention, cannot, I 
 think, entertain a doubt that they must have pro- 
 ceeded from the same pen : 
 
 " And it is true that supposed difficulty, and im- 
 possibility, are great causes of determent from at- 
 tempting or trying of new discoveries and enter- 
 prises, for the sloathful person usually crycth, go 
 not forth, there is a Lion or a Bear in the way; and 
 if Columbus had not had the spirit to have attempted, 
 against all seeming impossibilities and discourage- 
 ments, never had he gained that imortal honour, 
 nor the Spaniards been Masters of the rich Indies,
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 for we often admire why many things are attempted, 
 which appear to us as impossible, and yet when at- 
 tained, we wonder they were no sooner set upon 
 and tried; so though the means here prescribed may 
 seem weak and difficult to be put into use, yet being 
 practised may be found easy and advantagious. 
 And I hope newness need not be a brand to any 
 indeavour or discovery, seeing it is but a meer rela- 
 tive to our intellects, for that of which we were igno- 
 rant being discovered to us, we call new, which 
 ought rather to mind nsof our imbecility and igno- 
 rance, than to be any stain or scandal to the thing 
 discovered ; for doubtlessly he said well that ac- 
 counted Philosophy to be that which taught us 
 nihil admirari, and admiration is ahvaies the daugh- 
 ter of ignorance." — Acad. Examen, Epistle to the 
 Reader. 
 
 *' Antiquity and Novelty are but relations quoad 
 iwstrum intellectum, nan quoad naturam ; for the 
 truth, as it is fundamentally in things extra intel- 
 lectum, cannot be accounted either old or new. 
 And an opinion, when first found out and divulged, 
 is as much a truth then, as when the current of 
 hundreds or thousands of years have passed since 
 its discovery. For it was no less a truth, when in
 
 XXXVl JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 the infanc)^ of Philosophy it was holden, that there 
 was generation and corruption in Nature, in respect 
 of Individuals, than it is now : so little doth Time, 
 Antiquity, or Novelty alter, change, confirm, or over- 
 throw truth ; for Veritas est temporis filia, in regard 
 of its discovery to us or by us, who must draw it 
 forth e puteo Democriti. And the existence of 
 the West Indies was as well before the discovery 
 made by Columbus as since, and our ignorance did 
 not impeach the truth of its being, neither did the 
 novelty of its discovery make it less verity, nor the 
 years since make it more : so that we ought simply 
 to examine, whether an opinion be possible or im- 
 possible, probable or improbable, true or false ; and 
 if it be false, we ought to reject it, though it seem 
 never so venerable by the white hairs of Antiquity ; 
 nor ought we to refuse it, though it seem never so 
 young or near its birth. For as St. Cyprian said : 
 Error vetustatis est vetustas erroris." — The Dis- 
 playinrj of supposed Witchcraft, p. 15. 
 
 " What shall I say of the Science or art of Astro- 
 logy, shall the blind fury of Misotechnists, and 
 malicious spirits deter me from giving it the com- 
 mendations that it deserves ? shall the Acadamies
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. XXXVU 
 
 who have not only sleighted and neglected it, but 
 also scoffed at it, terrifie me from expressing my 
 thoughts of so noble and beneficial a Science ? 
 
 And therefore I cannot, without 
 
 detracting from worth and vertue, pass without a 
 due Elogy in the commendation of my learned and 
 industrious Countrymen, Mr. Ashmole, Mr. William 
 Lilly, Mr. Booker, Mr. Sanders, Mr. Culpepper, 
 and others, who have taken unwearied pains for the 
 resuscitation and promotion of this noble Science, 
 and with much patience against many unworthy 
 scandals have laboured to propagate it to posterity, 
 and if it were not beyond the present scope I have 
 in hand, I should have given sufficient reasons in 
 the \dndication of Astrology." — Acad. Examen, p. 
 51. 
 
 " And that there is and may be a lawful use of 
 Astrology, and many things may be foretold by it 
 few that are judicious are ignorant." — The Display- 
 ing of supposed Witchcraft^ p. 28. " And that there 
 are great and hidden vertues both in Plants and 
 Minerals, especially in Metals and Precious Stones, 
 as they are by Nature produced, by Mystical Che- 
 mistry prepared and exalted, or commixed and in- 
 sculped in their due and fit constellations, may 
 
 VOL. I. e
 
 XXXVIU JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 not only be proved by the instances foregoing, 
 but also by the reasons and authorities of persons 
 of great judgment and experience in the secrets of 
 nature, &c Neither are those argu- 
 ments of that learned person Galleotus Martius, for 
 defending the natural and la^vful effects of Plane- 
 tary Sigills, when prepared forth of agreeable mat- 
 ter, and made in their due constellations, of such 
 small weight as some insipid ignorants have pre- 
 tended, but are convincing to any considerate and 
 rational person.'' — /d. p. 161. 
 
 " What shall I say of Staticks, Architecture, 
 Pneumatithmie, Stratarithmetrie, and the rest enu- 
 merated by that expert and learned man Dr. John 
 Dee, in his Preface before Euclide .?" — Acad. Exa- 
 men, p. 52. 
 
 " Another of our Countrymen, Dr. John Dee, the 
 greatest and ablest Philosopher, Mathematician, and 
 Ch3Tnist that his Age (or it may be ever since) pro- 
 duced, could not evade the censure of the monster- 
 headed multitude, but even in his life time was ac- 
 counted a Conjurer, of which he most sadly (and 
 not without cause) complaineth in his most learned 
 Preface to Euclid." — The Displaying of supposed 
 Witchcraft, p. 7.
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 " Was not Magick amongst the Persians ac- 
 cepted for a sublime Sapience, and the science of 
 the universal consent of things ? And were not 
 those men (supposed Kings) that came from the 
 East styled by that honourable name Ma^oJ, Magi, 
 or Wisemen, which the Holy Ghost gives unto them, 
 thereby to denote out that glorious mystery of which 
 they were made partakers by the revelation of that 
 spirit of life and light. Neither do I here Apologize 
 for that impious and execrable Magick, that either 
 is used for the hurt and destruction of mankind, or 
 pretends to gain knowledge from him who is the 
 grand enemy of all the sons of Adam, no, that I 
 
 truly abominate But that which I defend 
 
 is that noble and laudable Science," &c. — Acad. 
 Examen, p. 69. 
 
 " It was not in vain superstitious Magick (where- 
 with as Couringius laboureth to prove, they were 
 much infected) but in the laudable Sciences of 
 Arithmetick, Politicks, Geometry, Astronomy, and 
 their Hieroglyphick learning, which doubtless con- 
 tained natural and lawful Magick (such as those 
 magicians were partakers of, that came to worship 
 Christ, whose learning all the Fathers and Inter- 
 preters do justifie to be good, natural, and lawful) 
 
 ea
 
 xl 
 
 JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 the Art of Medicine, and knowledge of natural and 
 artificial things, as in the next Branch we shall 
 more at large make appear." — Metallographia, p. 8. 
 
 " Paracelsus, that singular ornament of Ger- 
 many." — Acad. Examen, p. 70. 
 
 " That totius Germaniae decus, Paracelsus." — The 
 Displaying of supposed Witchcraft, p. 9. 
 
 " Now how false the Aristotelian Philosophy is 
 in itself is in part made cleer, and more is to be 
 said of it hereafter, and therefore truth and ex- 
 perience will declare the imperfection of that medi- 
 cinal knowledge that stands upon no better a basis. 
 For Galen, their great Coryphoeus and Antesig- 
 nanus, hath laid down no other principles to build 
 medicinal skill upon, than the doctrine of Aristotle ; 
 . . . and hath said enough sufficiently to confute and 
 overthrow the Avhole Fabrick of the Galenical learn- 
 ing, which here I forbear to insert. And therefore it 
 is very strange that the Schools, nay, in a manner, 
 the whole world, should be inchanted and infatuated 
 to admire and own this ignorant Pagan [Galen]j 
 who being ambitious of erecting his own fame,"&c. 
 — Acad. Examen, pp. 72-3. " That neither an-
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. xU 
 
 tiquity nor novelty may take place above verity, 
 lest it debarre us from a more diligent search after 
 truth and Science. Neither that universality of 
 opinion be any president or rule to sway our judg- 
 ments from the investigation of knowledge ; for 
 what matter is it whether we follow many or few, 
 so the truth be our guide ? for we should not follow 
 a multitude to do evil, and it is better to accompany 
 verity single, than falsity and errour with never so 
 great a number. Neither is it fit that Authority 
 (whether of Aristotle or any other) should inchain 
 us, but that there may be a general freedome to try 
 all things, and to hold fast that which is good, that 
 so there might be a Philosophical liberty to be 
 bound to the authority of none but truth itself, 
 then will men take pains, and arts will flourish." 
 —Id., pp. 109-10. 
 
 " If the comparison I use be thought too large, 
 and the rule be put only as to the greater part of 
 the Learned that are in Europe, yet it will hold 
 good that the greatest part of the Learned are not 
 to be adhered to, because of their numerousness ; 
 nor that the rest are to be rejected because of their 
 
 paucity did not the greatest number of 
 
 the Physicians in Europe altogether adhere to the
 
 Xlii JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 Doctrine of Galen, though now in Germany, France, 
 England, and many other Nations, the most have 
 exploded it ? And was not the Aristotelian Philo- 
 sophy embraced by the greatest part of all the 
 Learned in Europe ? And have not the Cartesians 
 and others Sufficiently now manifested the errours 
 and imperfections of it ? .... So that multitude, 
 as multitude, ought not to lead or sway us, but truth 
 itself. .... It is not safe nor rational to receive 
 or adhere to an opinion because of its Antiquity ; 
 nor to reject one because of its Novelty." — The 
 Displaying of supposed Witchcraft, p. 14. 
 
 " Especially since our never-sufficiently honoured 
 countryman Doctor Harvey, discovered that won- 
 derful secret of the bloods circulary motion." — Acad. 
 Examen, p. 74. 
 
 " Our learned and most industrious Anatomist 
 Dr. Harvey, who (notwithstanding the late cavils of 
 some) first found forth and evidenced to the World 
 that rare and profitable discovery of the Circulation 
 of the blood." — The Displaying of supposed Witch- 
 craft, p. 3. 
 
 " Our learned Countryman Dr. Fludd." — Acad. 
 Examen, p. 74.
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. xliii 
 
 " Our Countryman Dr. Flud, a person of much 
 learning." — The Displaying of supposed Witchcraft^ 
 p. 319. 
 
 " Secondly, they are as ignorant in the most 
 admirable and soul-ravishing kuowledge of the three 
 great Hypostatical principles of nature, Salt, Sul- 
 phur, and Mercury, first mentioned by Basilius 
 Valentinus, and afterwards clearly and evidently 
 manifested by that miracle of industry and pains 
 
 Theophrastus Paracelsus And though 
 
 Helmont with the experiments of his Gehennal fire 
 and some other solid arguments, labour the labe- 
 faction of this truth, yet doth he not prove that they 
 are not Hypostatical principles, but onely that they 
 are not the ultimate reduction that the possibility of 
 art can produce, which he truly proves to be water." 
 — Acad. Examen, p. 77. 
 
 " The ancient Chymical Philosophers held that 
 the matter out of which the Metals were generated, 
 were Sulphur and Mercury: but Basilius Valenti- 
 nus, Paracelsus, and the latter Chymists, have added 
 Salt as a third." — Metallographia, p. 72. " Some- 
 times, (and perhaps not untruly,) they affirm the 
 Metals to be generated of the element of Water ;
 
 Xliv JOHN WEBSTER 
 
 as Helmont, who proves not onely that metalUck 
 bodies, but also all other Concretes to have their 
 rise from thence, and demonstrateth the immuta- 
 bility of elemental Water." — Id.^ p. 79. 
 
 " Another is no less faulty and hurtful than the 
 precedent, and that is their too much admiring of, 
 and adhering to antiquity, or the judgment of men 
 that lived in ages far removed from us, as though 
 they had known all things, and left nothing for the 
 discovery of those that came after in subsequent 
 
 ages And indeed we usually attribute 
 
 knowledge and experience to men of the most years, 
 and therefore these being the latter ages of the 
 world should know more, for the grandaevity of the 
 world ought to be accounted for antiquity, and so 
 to be ascribed to our times, and not to the Junior 
 age of the world, wherein those that we call the 
 antients did live, so that antiquitas sseculi, juventus 
 mundi." — Acad. Examen, pp. 93-4. 
 
 " In regard of Natural Philosophy and the know- 
 ledge of the properties of created things, and the 
 knowledge of them, we preposterously reckon for- 
 mer Ages, and the men that lived in them, the 
 Ancients ; which in regard of production and ge-
 
 AND HIS WRITINGS. xlv 
 
 neration of the Individuals of their own Species are 
 so ; but in respect of knowledge and experience 
 this Age is to be accounted the most ancient. For 
 as the learned Lord Bacon saith : Indeed to speak 
 truly, Antiquitas seculi, juventus mundi, Antiquity 
 of time is the youth of the world. Certainly our 
 times are the ancient times, when the World is now 
 ancient, and not those which we count ancient, 
 ordine retrogrado, by a computation backward from 
 our own times ; and yet so much credit hath been 
 given to old Authors as to invest them with the 
 power of Dictators, that their words should stand, 
 rather than admit them as Consuls to give advice." 
 — The Displaying of supposed Witchcraft,^. 15. 
 
 It only remains to be said, that John Webster 
 the dramatist, and John Webster of Clitheroe, were 
 different persons ; the former was a writer for the 
 stage as early as 1602 ; the latter was not born till 
 1610, and died in 1682*. 
 
 * See Whitaker's Hist, of Whalley and Clitheroe, pp. 285, 
 493, ed. 1818. Dr. Whitaker seems never to have suspected 
 that Webster of Clitheroe, on whose learning and talents he 
 destows just praise, was the author of the Academiarum Examen.
 
 In editing the following volumes, I have thought 
 it necessary (as in my former attempts of a similar 
 kind) to mark the various readings, however unim- 
 portant, which a comparison of different editions of 
 the plays supplied. All those notes, for which I am 
 indebted to others, have the names of the respective 
 writers subjoined ; of the rest, (some of which, I 
 am aware, may perhaps be thought trifling and un- 
 necessary,) I may be allowed to say, that I have 
 not transplanted them to my pages from the Va- 
 riorum Shakespeare and Dodsley's Old Plays, but 
 that I have derived them from a long-continued 
 study of the obsolete literature of England. 
 
 In procuring for me transcripts from rare works, 
 in affording me the use of scarce pieces of our 
 early poetry, and in communicating to me useful 
 information of different sorts, I have to acknow- 
 ledge the kindness of the Rev. Dr. Bliss ; the Rev. 
 J. Mitford ; N. H. Nicolas, Esq. ; J. Payne Collier, 
 Esq.; J. Haslewood, Esq. ; and J. Crossley, Esq. of 
 Manchester.
 
 THE WHITE DEVIL; 
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 The White Divel, or, the Tragedy nf Paulo Giordano Ursini, 
 Duke of Brachiano, With the Life and Death cfVittoria Corombona 
 the famous Venetian Curtizan. Acted by the Queenes Maiesties 
 Seruants. Written by John Webster. Non inferiora secutus. 
 London, Printed bii N. 0. for Thomas Archer, and are to be sold 
 at his Shnp in Popes head Pallace, neere the Royall Exchange. 1612. 
 4to. 
 
 The White Devil, or, the Tragedy of Paulo Ginrdano Vnini, 
 Duke of Brachiano, With the Life, and Death ofVittoria Corombona, 
 the famous Venetian Curtizan- As it hath bin diuers times Acted, by 
 the Queenes Maiesties seruants, at the Phoenix, in Drury-lane. 
 Written bif John Webster. A'oji inferiora secutus. London, 
 Printed btj L N. for Hugh Perry, and are to be sold at his shop at 
 the signe of the Harrow in Brittains-burse . 1631. 4to. 
 
 There were also editions in 1665, and 1672, and an altera- 
 tion of it by N. Tate, called Injured Love, or the Cruel Huiband, 
 appeared in 1707. It has been reprinted in the difierent edi- 
 tions of Dodsley's CMectiun cf Old Plays, and in the Ancient 
 British Drama. 
 
 The reader who is familiar with original editions of our 
 
 early poets will not be surprised to learn that some copies of 
 
 the 4to. of 1612 differ slightly in several places from other copies 
 
 I of the same edition ; a collation of my own copy with that in the 
 
 I Garrick collection (vol. H. 22.) has furnished some various 
 
 1 readings, which 1 have given in the course of my notes. Such 
 
 differences arose no doubt from alterations having been made 
 
 ' in the text after a portion of the impression had been worked 
 
 I off.* I have not thought it necessary to set down every minute 
 
 j * The copies of the first edition of our author's Dutchess of 
 
 \ Malfi are not all exactly alike ; see the prefatory remarks to it 
 
 i in this volume : and once in The Devil's Law cuie, and once in 
 
 Westward Ho, (of both which there is but one edition,) I found 
 
 a difference on comparing the copies. Mr. Gifford discovered 
 
 similar variations in some of the early 4tos. of Massinger j vide 
 
 |his Introduction, p. Ixxvii, ed. 1805: see too my edition of 
 
 Peek's Works, vol. ii. p. 222.
 
 variation found in the 4tos. of 1665 and 1672, as, though they in 
 several places rectify the errors of the two earliest 4tos., they 
 are comparatively of little authority. The notes which have 
 the names of Reed, Steevens, Gilchrist, and Collier attached 
 to them, are taken from the second and third editions of Dods- 
 ley's Collectum if 01 1 I'lays. 
 
 In a rare volume of poetry, Epigrams iheologicnl , ■philosophical, 
 and romatitick. Six bonks, also the Socratick Sessioi', or the Arraign- 
 ment ami Conviction of J iiliiis Scaliger, with other Select Poems. 
 By S. Shqipard. 1651. 8vo. are the following lines; 
 
 " On IMr. \Vebster's most excellent Tragedy, called the White 
 Devill. 
 
 " Wee will no more admire Euripides, 
 
 Nor praise the Tragick streines of Sophocles, 
 
 For why "? thou in this Tragedie hast fram'd 
 
 All reall worth, tliat can in them be nam'd : 
 
 How lively are thy persons fitted, and 
 
 How pretty are thy lines, thy Verses stand 
 
 Like unto pretious Jewels set in gold. 
 
 And grace thy fluent Prose : I once was told 
 
 By one well skil'd in Arts, he thought thy Play 
 
 Was onely worthy Fame to beare away 
 
 From all before it : Brachianos III, 
 
 Murthering his Dutchesse, hath by thy rare skill 
 
 JNIade him renown'd, Flamineo such another. 
 
 The Devils darling, Murtherer of his brother : 
 
 His part most strange, (given him to Act by thee) 
 
 Doth gaine him Credit, and not Calumnie: 
 
 Vittoria Corombona, that fam'd Whore, 
 
 Desp'rate Lodovico weltriug in his gore, 
 
 Subtile Francisco, all of them shall bee 
 
 Gaz'd at as Comets by Posteritie : 
 
 And thou nieane lime with never withering Bayes 
 
 fShalt Crowned bee by all that read thy Layes." 
 
 Lib. V. Epi^'. 27, p. 133, 134
 
 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 1 affect praise by it, for nos hcec novi- 
 mus 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 under- 
 standing 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 it to the general 
 view with this confidence : 
 
 Nee ronchos metues maligniorum, 
 
 Nee seoinbris tunicas d abis molestas. 
 
 If it be objected this is no true dramatick poem, 
 1 shall easily confess it, non poles in nugas dicere 
 plura ineas, ipse ego quani ilixi ; willingly, and not 
 ignorantly, in this kind have I faulted : for should a 
 man present, to such an auditory, the most senten- 
 tious tragedy that ever was written, observing all the 
 critical laws, as height of style, and gravity of person, 
 enrich it with the sententious Chorus, and, as it 
 were, 'liven death, in the passionate and v/eighty 
 Nuntius ; yet, after all this divine rapture, dura 
 
 * dull a time of winter, presented in so] These words are 
 found only in the 4to. of 1612. 
 
 t black a theatre,'] I think we should read blank, i. e. vacant, 
 unsupplied with artieles necessary toward theatrical represfn- 
 tation. — Steevens. " Qy. bleak ?" MS. note by Malone.
 
 6 TO THE READER, 
 
 messuruvi ilia, the breath that comes from the unca- 
 pable multitude is able to poison it ; and, ere it be 
 acted, let the author resolve to fix to every scene 
 this of Horace, 
 
 — Hrec porcis liodie comedenda relinques. 
 
 To those who report I was a long time in finish- 
 ing 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 tragick writer- 
 Alcestides objecting that Euripides had only, in three 
 days, composed three verses, whereas himself had 
 written three hundred ; Thou tellest truth (quoth he), 
 but here's the diflference, 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 judg- 
 ment, 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 noruat bsec monumenta mori.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 
 
 MoNTicELso, a cardinal, afterwards Pope. 
 
 Francisco de Medicis, Duke of Florence. 
 
 Brachiano, otherwise Paulo Giordano Ursini, 
 Duke of Brachiano, husband to Isabella. 
 
 Giovanni, his son. 
 
 Count Lodovico. 
 
 Camillo, husband to Vittoria. 
 
 Flamineo, brother to Vittoria, secretary to Bra- 
 chiano. 
 
 Marcello, brother to Vittoria, attendant on Fran- 
 cisco de Medicis. 
 
 hortensio. 
 
 Antonelli. 
 
 Gasparo. 
 
 Farnese. 
 
 Carlo. 
 
 Pedro. 
 
 Doctor. 
 
 Conjurer. 
 
 Jaques. 
 
 Julio. 
 
 Cristopiiero. 
 
 Isabella, sister to Francisco de Medicis, wife to 
 Brachiano.
 
 ViTTORiA CoROMBONA, married first to Camillo, 
 
 afterwards to Brachiano. 
 Cornelia, mother to Vittoria. 
 Z AN CHE, a Moor. 
 
 Ambassadors, Courtiers, Lawyers, Physicians, Offi- 
 cers, Armourer, and Attendants. 
 
 In mentem auctoris 
 
 Scire velis quid sit mulier ? quo percilet astro P 
 
 En tibi, si sapias, cum sale, mille sales* 
 
 J. Wilson. 
 
 * These lines are not found in the two earliest 4tos. In the 
 4to. of 1665 they have the initials J. W, subjoined to them: 
 in that of 1672 they are signed /. Wilson. 
 
 \
 
 THE WHITE DEVIL; 
 
 OR, 
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 
 
 Enter Count Lodovico, Antonelli, awcZ Gasparo. 
 
 LoD. Banish'd ! 
 
 Ant. It griev'd me much to hear the sentence. 
 
 LoD. Ha, ha! O Democritus, thy gods 
 That govern the whole world ! courtly reward 
 And punishment. Fortune's a right whore ; 
 If she give ought, she deals it in small parcels. 
 That she may take away all at one swoop.* 
 This 'tis to have great enemies ; God quit them ! 
 Your wolf no longer seems to be a wolf 
 Than when she's hungry. 
 
 Gasp. You term those enemies, 
 Are men of princely rank. 
 
 LoD. O, I pray for them ; 
 The violent thunder is ador'd by those 
 Are pash'df in pieces by it. 
 
 * all at one swnop'] So Shakespeare ; 
 
 " What, all my pretty chickens and their dam. 
 At one fell swoop?" — Macbeth, act iv. so. 3. — Steevens. 
 t pash'd} The 4tos. of 1665 and 1672 " dasht." The mean- 
 ings of paih and dash are thus rightly distinguished by Gifford ; 
 " the latter signifies to throw one thing with violence against 
 another : the former, to strike a thing with such force as to crush 
 it to pieces." — Note on Massinger's Virgin Marti/r, act ii. so. 2.
 
 10 THE WHITE devil: OR, 
 
 Ant. Come, my lord. 
 You are justly doom'd ; look but a little back 
 Into your former life ; you have in three years 
 Ruin'd the noblest earldom. 
 
 Gasp. Your followers 
 Have swallow'd you like mummia,* and being sick 
 With such unnatural and horrid physick, 
 Vomit you up i'th' kennel. 
 
 Ant. All the damnable degrees 
 Of drinkings have you stagger'd through ; one citizen 
 Is lord of two fair manors call'd you master 
 Only for caviare. 
 
 Gasp. 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' th' air. 
 
 Ant. Jest upon you^ 
 And say you were begotten in an earthquake, 
 You have ruin'd such fair lordships. 
 
 • mummia'] The most satisfactory account of the different 
 kinds of mummy formerly used in medicine, is to be found in a 
 quotation from Hill's Materia Medica, in Johnson's Dictionary, 
 V. mummy, to which I refer the reader. " The Egyptian mum- 
 mies," says Sir Thomas Brown, " which Cambyses or time hath 
 spared, avarice now consumeth. Mummia is become merchan- 
 dise, IMizraim cures wounds, and Pharaoh is sold for balsams." 
 — Urn- Burial, p. 28. ed. 1658.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 11 
 
 LoD. Very good. 
 This well goes with two buckets ; I must tend 
 The pouring out of either. 
 
 Gasp. Worse than these ; 
 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 ? 
 
 Gasp. 0, 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, 
 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 chaf'df the more they 
 render 
 
 * such] Some copies of the 4to. of 1612 " sweet," 
 i Perfumes, the more they are chaf'd, &c.] Compare Lord 
 Bacon's Essays; " Certainly virtue is like precious odours, most 
 fragrant when they are incensed or crushed ; for prosperity
 
 12 THE WHITE DKVIL: OR, 
 
 Their pleasing scents ; and so affliction 
 Expresseth virtue fully, whether true, 
 Or else adulterate. 
 
 LoD. Leave your painted comforts; 
 I'll make Italian cut-works* in their guts 
 If ever I return. 
 
 Gasp. O, sir ! 
 
 LoD. I am patient. 
 I have seen some ready to be executed, 
 Give pleasant looks, and money, and grown 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: 
 This is the world's alms ; pray make use of it. 
 Great men sell sheep thus to be cut in pieces. 
 When first they have shorn them bare and sold their 
 fleeces. [Exeunt. 
 
 doth best discover vice, but adversity doth best discover virtue." 
 
 Of Adversity. 
 Our author in The Dutchess of Molfi. has — 
 
 " Man, like to cassia, is prov'd best, being bruis'd." 
 
 Act ill. sc. 5. 
 
 • cut-u'cn-ks] Mr. Todd, in his additions to Johnson's Dir- 
 
 tionary, explains cutwork to be " work in embroidery," but I 
 
 believe, it is rather a kind of open-work, made by cutting out 
 
 or stamping.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. i3 
 
 Sennet* Enter Brachiano, Camillo, Flami- 
 NEO, ViTTORiA CoROMBONA, and attendants. 
 Brack. Your best of rest. 
 ViT. Cor. Unto my lord, the duke, 
 The best of welcome. More lights! attend the duke. 
 [Exeunt Camillu and Fittoria Corombona. 
 Brack. Flamineo. 
 Flam. My lord. 
 Brack. Quite lost, Flamineo. 
 Flam. Pursue your noble wishes, I am prompt 
 As lightning to your service. O, my lord ! 
 The fair Vittoria, my happy sister, [Whisper. 
 
 Shall give you present audience. — Gentlemen, 
 Let the caroch go on, and 'tis his pleasure 
 You put out all your torches, and depart. 
 
 [Exeunt attendants. 
 Brack. Are we so happy ! 
 Flam. Can't be otherwise? 
 Observ'd you not to-night, my honour'd lord, 
 Which way soe'er you went, she threw her eyes? 
 I have dealt already with her chamber-maid, 
 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. 
 
 • Sennet] i. e. a particular sounding of trumpets or comets, 
 not a flourish, as it has sometimes been explained. In the 4tos. 
 this portion of the stage direction is put on the margin opposite 
 the preceding speech of Lodovico, and given thus " Enter Se- 
 nate."
 
 14 THE AviiiTE devil: or, 
 
 Flam. 'Bove merit! — we may now talk freely — 
 *bove merit! what is't you doubt ? her coyness! that's 
 but the superfices of lust most women have ; yet why 
 should ladies blush lo hear that named, which they do 
 not fear to handle? O, they are politick; 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. 
 
 Bracii. O, but her jealous husband ! 
 
 Flam. Hang him! a gilder that hath his brains 
 perished Avith quick-silver is not more cold in the 
 liver : the great barriers moulted not more feathers, t 
 than he Jiath shed hairs, by the confession of his doc- 
 tor : an Irish gamester that will play himself naked,! 
 
 • whereas satiety is a blunt, weary, and drowsy passion] " Fie on 
 tbis satietie, 'tis a dul, blunt, weary, and drowsie passion." Marston's 
 Parasitaster ur the Fawne, ICOC, Sig. F 4. 
 
 f the great barriers moulted not mare Jeathers,] i. e. more fea- 
 thers were not dislodged from the helmets of the combatants at 
 the great tilting match. Steevens. 
 
 X an I ribh gamester that will play himself naked, 1 Barnaby Rich 
 in his A'ew Description of Ireland, 1610, p. .38, says, " there is 
 " (i. e. in Ireland) acertaine brotherhood, called by the name of 
 " Karroues, and ihese be common gamsters, that do only exer- 
 " cise playing at cards, and they will play away their mantels, 
 " and their shirts from their backs, and when they have nothing 
 " left them, they will trusse themselves in straw: this is the 
 " life they lead, and from this they will not be reclaimed." 
 
 Reed.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 15 
 
 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. 
 
 Shrowd you within this closet, good my lord : 
 Some trick now must be thought on to divide 
 My brother-in-law from his fair bed-fellow. 
 Brach. O, should she fail to come ! 
 Flam. I must not have your lordship thus unwisely 
 amorous. I myself have loved a lady, and pursued 
 her 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 like 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 men would judge a politician ; 
 
 But call his wit in question, you shall find it 
 
 Merely an ass * in's foot-cloth — How now, brother? 
 
 What, travelling 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, 
 
 * hisfoot-cloth.'] i. e. in bis housings. See notes of the com- 
 mentators on Shakespeare's Richard III. Act in. sc. 4.
 
 16 THE WHITE devil: or, 
 
 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 loaths 
 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. 
 
 Flam. I hope you do not think — 
 
 Cam. That noblemen bowl booty ? faith, his cheek 
 Hath a most excellent bias,t it would fain 
 Jump with my mistress. 
 
 Flam. Will you be an ass, 
 Despite your| Aristotle ? or a cuckold, 
 Contrary to your Ephemerides, 
 Which shews you under what a smiling planet 
 
 * Jlawl Fiau) anciently signified a gws(, or blast: [ — a sense 
 in which it is still used by seamen. — D.] it here means a quar- 
 rel. Reed. 
 
 f — Faith his cheek 
 
 Hath a must excellent bias,'] So in Troilus and Cressida, a. iv. 8. 5. 
 " Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek 
 " Out swell the colic of puffd Aquilon." Reed. 
 X your^ Both the earliest 4tos. " you."
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 17 
 
 You were first swaddled ? 
 
 Cam. Pew wew, sir; tell not me 
 Of planets nor of Ephemerides : 
 A man may be made a 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 
 Stuft with horn-shavings. 
 
 Cam. Brother. 
 
 Flam. God refuse me,t 
 Might I advise you now, your only course 
 Were to lock up your wife. 
 
 Cam. 'Twere very good. 
 
 Flam. Bar her the sight of revels. 
 
 Cam. Excellent. 
 
 Flam. Let her not go to church, but Hke a hound 
 In lyamt at your heels. 
 
 Cam. 'Twere for her honour. 
 
 Flam. And so you should becertain in one fortnight, 
 
 * God b'wi'yoii] In the 4tos. (as it is most frequently spelt in 
 old plays) " God boy you." 
 
 f God refuse mel A fashionable imprecation at the time this 
 play was written : " would so many else," says Taylor, the 
 water-poet, " in their desperate madnes desire God to Damne 
 them, to Renounce them, to Forsake them, to Confound them, 
 to Sinke them, to Refuse tlteml" "Against Cursing and Swear- 
 ing," Works, 1630, p. 45. 
 
 X lyani] All the 4tos. have " Leon," a reading which Stee- 
 vens (as he well might) suspected to be an error of the press : 
 he observes, " I know not that the custom of being followed by 
 a dog is peculiar to this city in Spain, but rather believe we 
 should read, learn, i. e. a leash, a string." I have adopted his 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 THE AVIIITE DEVIL : OR, 
 
 Despite her chastity or innocence, 
 
 To be cuckolded, which yet is in suspence: 
 
 This is my counsel, and I ask no fee for't. 
 
 Cam. Come, you know not where my night-cap 
 wrings me. 
 
 Flam. Wear it a' th' old fashion; let your large 
 ears come through, it will be more easy. Nay I will be 
 bitter; 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 politick 
 inclosures for paltry mutton, make* more rebellion in 
 the flesh, than all the provocative electuaries doctors 
 have uttered since last jubilee. 
 
 Cam. This doth not physic me. 
 
 Flam. It seems you are jealous; I'll shew 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 if there were twenty ; now should you wear 
 a pair of these spectacles, and see your wife tying 
 her shoe, you would imagine twenty hands were 
 taking up of your wife's clothes, and this would put 
 you into a horrible causeless fury. 
 
 conjecture, writing the word however as I find it generally spelt 
 by old poets, lyam ; so Drayton ; 
 
 " My hound then in my lyam, I by the woodman's art 
 Forecast where I may lodge the goodly hie-palm'd hart." 
 
 Vie Muses Elysinm, p. 452, Works, folio, 1748. 
 -» make] Both the earliest 4t08. " makes."
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 19 
 
 Cam. The fault there, sir, is not in the eye-sight. 
 
 Flam. True, but they that have the yellow 
 jaundice think all objects they look on to be yellow.* 
 Jealousy is worser ; her fits present 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. 
 
 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 black-bird's 
 bill, when 'tis liker the black-bird'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 banquettlng-house : 
 your husband is wondrous discontented. 
 
 ViT. CoR. I did nothing to displease him ; I 
 carved to him at supper-time, f 
 
 * —they that have the yellnw jaundice, think all objects they look 
 on to be yellow.'] This thought is adopted by Pope : 
 " All seem^s infected that th' infected spy, 
 " As all looks yellow to the jaundic'd eye." Stehvens. 
 
 t I carved to him at supper-time] The late Mr. Boswell, in a 
 note on Shakespeare's Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I. so. 3. 
 quotes this passage of Webster, and observes, " it seems to 
 have been considered as a mark of kindness, when a' lady 
 carved to a gentleman." In The Returne from Pernassus, 1606, 
 Sir Raderick says ; " what do men marry for, but to stocke
 
 20 THE WHITE devil; OR, 
 
 Flam. You need not have carved him, in faith; 
 they say he is a capon already. I must now seem- 
 ingly fall out with you. Shall a gentleman so well 
 descended as Camillo — a lousy slave, tliat within 
 this twenty years rode with the black guard* in the 
 duke's carriage, 'mongst spits and dripping-pans — 
 
 Cam. Now he begins to tickle her. 
 
 Flam. An excellent scholar — one that hath ahead 
 filled with calves brains without any sage in them, — 
 come crouching in the hams to you for a night's 
 lodging ? — that hath 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 sattin, 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. f 
 
 their ground, and to have one to looke to the linnen, sit at the 
 upper end of llic table, aud cane up a capon." Sig. F. 2. 
 
 • the black guard'] i. e. the meanest drudges in royal resi- 
 dences and great houses, who rode in the vehicles which carried 
 the furniture and domestic utensils from mansion to mansion. 
 See Gifford's note, Ben Jonson's Works, vol. ii. p. 169. 
 
 t but covered with a false stone, yon counterfeit diamond^ So 
 some copies of the 4to. of 1612, and rightly ; other copies " but 
 cover with a false stone your counterfeit diamond :" the 4to. of 
 1631, " but covered with a false stone you counterfeit diamond :" 
 the 4to. of lfiC5, has the reading of some of the copies of that 
 of 1612, followed in my text : the 4to. of 1672, agrees with that 
 of 1631. — The full meaning appears to be ; " but [you, the 
 goodly foil, are] covered with a false stone, [i. e. your husband 
 Camillo,] yon counterfeit diamond."
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 21 
 
 Cam, He will make her know what is in me. 
 
 Flam. Come, my lord attends you; thou shall 
 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. 
 
 [To Camillo. 
 
 Cam. a virtuous brother, a' my credit ! 
 
 Flam. He will give thee a ring with a philoso- 
 pher's stone in it. 
 
 Cam. Indeed, I am studying alchymy. 
 
 Flam. Thou shalt lie in a bed stuft with turtles' 
 feathers; swoon in perfumed linen, like the fellow 
 was smothered in roses. So perfect shall be thy hap- 
 piness, 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. 
 
 ViT. CoR. How shall's rid him hence? 
 
 Flam. I will put [the] brize in's tail [shall] set 
 him gadding presently. — I have almost wrought her 
 to it, I find her coming ; but, might I advise you 
 now, for this night I would not lie with her ; I would 
 cross her humour to make her more humble. 
 
 Cam. Shall I, shall I? 
 
 Flam. It will shew in you a supremacy of judg- 
 ment. 
 
 Cam. True, and a mind differing from the tumul- 
 tuary opinion ; for, quae iiegala, grata.
 
 22 iJiE wHiTJi devil; or, 
 
 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'the nobleman's fashion, 
 and tell her you will lie with her at the end of ihe 
 progress. 
 
 Cam. Vittoria, I cannot be induced, or, as a man 
 would say, incited — 
 
 ViT. Coil. To do what, sir? 
 
 Cam. To lie with you to-night. Your silk- worm 
 useth to fast every third day, and the next following 
 spins the better. To-morrow at night I am for you. 
 
 ViT. Cor. You'll spin a fair thread, trust to't. 
 
 Flam. But do you hear, I shall have you steal 
 to her chamber about midnight. 
 
 Cam. Do you think so? why look you, brother, 
 because 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? 
 
 Cam. a pox on't, as I am a Christian : tell me 
 to-morrow how scurvily she takes my unkind part- 
 ing. 
 
 Flam. I will. 
 
 Cam. Didst thou not makef the jest of the silk- 
 
 • adamant] i. e. magnet. 
 
 t make] I suspect we should read take, i. e. conceive, under- 
 stand ; though perhaps " make," may be used here in the same 
 Fense. The 4 to. of 1672, " mark."
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 23 
 
 worm? 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 entanglest thyself in 
 thine own work like a silk-worra.* Come, sister, 
 darkness hides your blush. Women are like curst 
 dogs ; civilityt 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. 
 Enter Bhachiano; Zanche brings out a carpet, 
 spreads it, and lays on it two fair cushions. 
 
 Brach. 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 behind, 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. Cor. Sir, in the way of pity, 
 I wish you heart-whole. 
 
 Brach. You are a sweet physician. 
 
 ViT. Cor. Sure, sir, a loathed cruelty in ladies 
 Is as to doctors many funerals ; 
 
 * thou entanglest thyielf in thine own work like a silk-worm.^ 
 
 Thus Pope, 
 
 " The silk- worm thus spins fine his little store, 
 
 " And labours till he clouds himself all o'er." Steevens. 
 
 t civility.'] The 4to. of 1631, " cruelty."
 
 24 THE WHITE devil; or, 
 
 It takes away their credit. 
 
 Brach. 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. 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 tyranmz'd, iron, lead,* or stone; 
 But woe to ruin, violent lust leaves none ! 
 
 Brack. What value is this jewel? 
 
 ViT. Cor. 'Tis the ornament of a weak fortune. 
 
 Brach. 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. 
 
 Brach. Nay, let me see you wear it. 
 
 ViT. Cor. Here, sir? 
 
 Bkach. Nay, lower, you shall wear my jewel lower. 
 
 Flam. Thai's better; she must wear his jewel 
 lower. 
 
 ViT. Cor. To pass away the time, I'll tell your 
 grace 
 A dream I had last night. 
 
 Brach. Most wishedly. 
 
 ViT. CoR. A foolish idle dream. 
 Methought I walk'd about the mid of night 
 • lead] The 4to. of 1G12, " or lead."
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 25 
 
 Into II church-yard, where a goodly yew-tree 
 
 Spread her large root in ground : under that yew, 
 
 As I sate sadly leaning on a grave 
 
 Checquer'd with cross sticks, there came steahng in 
 
 Your dutchess and my husband ; one of them 
 
 A pick-axe bore, th' other a rusty spade, 
 
 And in rough terms they 'gan to challenge me 
 
 About this yew. 
 
 Brach. That tree? 
 
 ViT. CoR. This harmless yew : 
 They told me my intent was to root up 
 That well-grown yew, and plant i'th' stead of it 
 A wither'd black-thorn : and for that they vow'd 
 To bury me alive. My husband straight 
 With pick-axe 'gan to dig, and your fell dutchess 
 With shovel, like a fury, voided out 
 The earth, and scatter'd bones: lord, how, methought, 
 I trembled ! and yet for all this terror 
 I could not pray. 
 
 Flam. No ; the devil was in your dream. 
 
 ViT. Cor. When to my rescue there arose, me- 
 thought, 
 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 m a 
 dream 
 To make away his dutchess and her husband. 
 
 Brach. Sweetly shall I interpret this your dream. 
 You are lodg'd within his arms who shall protect you
 
 26 THE WHITE DEVIL : OU, 
 
 From all the fevers of a jealous husband ; 
 From the poor envy of our phlegmatick dutchess. 
 I'll seat you above laAv, 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. 
 Coil. Woe to light hearts, they still fore-run our 
 fall ! [Coming forward. 
 
 Flam. What fury rais'd thee up? away, away. 
 
 [Exit Zanclie. 
 Cor. What make you here, my lord, this dead of 
 night? 
 Never dropp'd mildew on a flower here 
 Till now. 
 
 Flam. I pray, will you go to bed then, 
 Ler ' you be blasted ? 
 
 CoR. O that this fair garden 
 Had with* all poison'd herbs of Thessaly 
 At first been planted ; made a nursery 
 For witchcraft, rather thauf a burial plot 
 For both your honours ! 
 
 ViT. Cor. Dearest mother, hear me. 
 CoR. O, thou dost make my brow bend to the earth, 
 Sooner than nature ! See the curse of children ! 
 In life they keep us frequently in tears ; 
 And in the cold grave leavej us in pale fears. 
 
 • ukh] Omitted in both the earliest 4tos. 
 t than] Omitted in both the earliest 4tos. 
 t leave] Both the earliest Itos. " leaves."
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 27 
 
 Brach. Come, come, I will not hear you. 
 
 ViT. Cor. Dear, my lord. 
 
 CoR. Where is ihy dutches-s now, adulterous duke? 
 Thou little dreamd'st this ni^ht she is come to Rome. 
 
 Flam. How! come to Rome! 
 
 ViT. CoR. The dutchess! 
 
 Brach. 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. 
 
 Flam. So, liave you done? 
 
 CoR. Unfortunate Camillo ! 
 
 ViT. CoR. I do protest, if any chaste denial, 
 If any thing but blood could have allay 'd 
 His long suit to me — 
 
 Cor. I will join with thee. 
 To the most woeful end e'er mother kneel'd : 
 If thou dishonour thus thy husband's bed, .. 
 
 Be thy lite short as are the funeral tears 
 In great men's — 
 
 Bracii. 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 like a wretch after his death ! 
 
 ViT. Cott. O me accurs'd! [Exit. 
 
 Flam. Are you out of your wits, my lord? 
 I'll fetch her back again. 
 
 Brach. No, I'll to bed: 
 Send doctor Julio to me presently. 
 Uncharitable woman ! thy rash tongue
 
 28 THE WHITE DEVIL : OR, 
 
 Hath rais'd 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 vou have hoarded for my maintenance. 
 That I may bear my beard out of the level 
 Of my lord's stirrup. 
 
 Coil. What ! because we are poor 
 Shall we be vicious ? 
 
 Flam. Pray, what means have you 
 To keep me from the gallies, or the gallows ? 
 My father prov'd himself a gentleman, 
 Sold all's land, and, like a fortunate fellow, 
 Died ere the money was spent. You brought me up 
 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, 
 At least seven years; conspiring with a beard. 
 Made me a graduate ; then to this duke's service. 
 I visited the court, whence I return'd 
 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.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 29 
 
 Cou. O, that I ne'er had borne thee I 
 
 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 ; 
 Yet* may be he will justify the act. 
 Lycurgus wonder'd much, men would provide 
 Good stallions for their mares, and yet would suffer 
 Their fair wives to be barren. 
 
 CoR. Misery of miseries ! [Exit, 
 
 Fla m. The dutchess come to court ! I like not that. 
 We are engag'd 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'sf snake ; 
 So who knows policy and her true aspect, 
 Shall find her ways winding and indirect. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Francisco de Medicis, cardinal Mokti- 
 
 CELSO, MaRCELLO, ISABELLA, tjOUng GlOVANNI, 
 
 with little Jaques the Moor. 
 Fran, de Med. Have you not seen your hus- 
 band since you arriv'd ? 
 
 * Ye.t] The 4to. of 1631 "it." 
 t winter's] The 4to. of 1631 " winter."
 
 30 THE WHITE devil: OR, 
 
 IsAB. Not yet, sir. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Surely he is wondrous* kind ; 
 If I had such a dove-house as Camillo's, 
 I would set fire on't were't but to destroy 
 The pole-cats that haunt to 't — My sweet cousin ! 
 
 Giov. Lord uncle, you did pronxise me a horse, 
 And armour. 
 
 Fran, de Med. That I did, my pretty cousin. 
 Marcello, see it fitted. 
 
 Mar. My lord, the duke is here. 
 
 Fran, de Mto. Sister, away; you must not yet 
 be seen. 
 
 IsAB. I do beseech you, 
 Entreat him mildly, let not your rough tongue 
 Set us at louder variance ; all my wrongs 
 Are freely pardon'd ; and I do not doubt, 
 As men, to try the precious unicorn's horn,f 
 Make of the powder a preservative circle. 
 And in it put a spider, so these arms 
 Shall charm his poison, force it to obeying. 
 And keep him chaste from an infected straying. 
 
 Fran, de Med. I wish it may. Be gone, 'void 
 the chamber. 
 
 [Exeunt Isabella, Giovanni, and Jaques. 
 
 * wondrous] The 4to. of 1631 " wonderful." 
 
 \ uracorn't hirrii\ The substance vended as such used to be es- 
 teemed a counter-poison. " Andrea Racci, a iihysician of Flo- 
 rence, affirms the pound of 16 ounces to have been sold in the 
 Apothecaries shops for 153G crowns, when the same weight of 
 gold was only worth 148 crowns." Chambers' Diet. See also 
 Sir Thomas Brown's Vulorar Errors. B. 3. C. 23. Reed.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 31 
 
 Enter Brachiano and Flamineo. 
 You are welcome ; will you sit ? — I pray, my lord, 
 Be you my orator, my heart's too full ; 
 I'll second you anon. 
 
 Mont, Ere I begin, 
 Let me entreat your grace forego all passion, 
 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 enter'd the world 
 With a free sceptre in your able hand, 
 And to the use of naturef well applied 
 High gifts of learning, should in your prime age 
 Neglect your awful throne for the soft down 
 Of an insatiate bed. O, my lord, 
 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 
 Plac'd in the adder's tail. J Wretched are princes 
 When fortune blasteth but a petty flower 
 
 * having] So all the 4tos, except that of 1612, wLich has 
 " have." 
 
 f And to the use of nature, ^-c] All the 4t09. " And have to 
 the use of nature," &c. I have omitted " have" as unnecessary, 
 rather than alter it to " having" which the sense positively re- 
 quires. 
 
 J Repentance then will follow, like the sting 
 Plac'd in the adder's tail.] So Thomson says ; 
 " Amid the roses ferce repentance rears 
 Her snaky crest." Sprir^, I. 992. Reed,
 
 32 THE WHITE devil: or, 
 
 Of their unwieldly crowns or ravisheth 
 But one pearl from their sceptres;* but alas! 
 When they to wilful shipwreck lose good fame, 
 All princely titles perish with their name. 
 
 Brack. You have said, ray lord. 
 
 Mont. Enough to give you taste 
 How far I am from flattering your greatness. 
 
 Bkacii. 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, de IVIed. Do not fear it : 
 I'll answer you in your own hawking phrase. 
 Some eagles that should gaze upon the sun 
 Seldom soar h'gh, but take their lustful ease ; 
 Since they from dunghill birds their prey can seize. 
 You know Vittoria? 
 
 Brach. Yes. 
 
 Fran, de Med. You shift your shirt there, 
 When you retire from tennis ? 
 
 Brach. Happily. t 
 
 Fran, de Med. Her husband is lord of a poor 
 fortune, 
 Yet she wears cloth of tissue. 
 
 Brach. What of this? 
 Will you urge that, my good lord cardinal. 
 As part of her confession at next shrift, 
 
 * sceptres] The 4lo. of ]fil2 " scepter." 
 
 •f Happily] Is frequently, as here, used for haply by our old 
 writers.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 33 
 
 Aud know from whence it sails ? 
 
 FiiAN. DE Med. She is your strumpet. 
 
 Brach. Uncivil sir, there's hemlock in thy breath. 
 And that black slander. Were she a whore of mine. 
 All thy loud cannons, and thy borrow'd Switzers,* 
 Thy gallies, nor thy sworn confederates, 
 Durst not supplant her. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Let's not talk on thunder. 
 Thou hast a wife, our sister : would I had given 
 Both her white hands to death, bound and lock'd fast 
 In her last winding sheet, when I gave thee 
 But one. 
 
 Bracii. Thou had'st given a soul to God then. 
 
 Fran, de Med. True: 
 Thy ghostly father, with all's absolution. 
 Shall ne'er do so by thee. 
 
 Brack. Spit thy poison. 
 
 Fran, de Med. I shall not need ; lust carries her 
 sharp whip 
 At her own girdle. Look to't, for our anger 
 Is making thunder-bolts. 
 
 Bracii. Thunder! in faith. 
 They are but crackers. 
 
 • bnrTow'd Switzers'] The early dramatists appear to have de- 
 lighted in making themselves merry with the Swiss mercenaries, 
 whose poverty, perhaps, rather than their natural inclination, 
 induced them to lend their military sei-vices to their wealthier 
 and contending neighbours ; till, as Osborne cleverly expresses 
 it, " they became the cudgels with which the rest of the world 
 " did, upon all occasions, beat one another." (431. Edit. 1682.) 
 
 O. Gilchrist. 
 
 VOL, I. D
 
 34 THE WHITE DEVIL : OR, 
 
 Fran, de Med, We'll end this with the cannon. 
 
 Brach. Thou'lt get nought by it, but iron in thy 
 wounds, 
 And gunpowder in thy nostrils. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Better that, 
 Than change perfumes for plasters. 
 
 Brach. Pity on thee : 
 'Tweregood you'd shew your slaves, or men conderan'd , 
 Your new-plough'd* forehead-defiance ! and I'll meet 
 
 thee, 
 Even in a thicket of thy ablest men. 
 
 Mont. My lords, f you shall not word it any further 
 Without a milder limit. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Willingly. 
 
 Brach. Have you proclaim'd a triumph, that you 
 bait 
 A lion thus ? 
 
 Mont. My lord! 
 
 Brach. I am tame, I am tame, sir. 
 
 Fran, de Med. We send unto the duke for con- 
 ference 
 '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 
 To find you sure enough, and speak with you. 
 
 Brach. Ha! 
 
 • plmgh'd'] Spelt in all the 4tos. ' plow'd.' Qy. " ^iluiti'd?" 
 t lords] The 4to. of 1631 '•lord."
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 35 
 
 Fran, de Med. A mere tale of a tub, my words 
 are idle ; 
 But to express the sonnet by natural reason, 
 When stags grow melancholick you'll find the season. 
 Enter Giovanni. 
 
 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, 
 To train to virtue those of princely blood, 
 By examples than by precepts : if by examples, 
 Whom 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. 
 
 Brach. Your hand, boy : growing to a* soldier? 
 
 Giov. Give me a pike. 
 
 Fran, de Med. What, practising your pike so 
 young, fair cuz ? 
 
 Giov. Suppose me one of Homer's frogs, ray lord, 
 Tossing my bulUrush thus. Pray, sir, tell me, 
 Might not a child of good discretion 
 Be leader to an army ? 
 
 Fran, de Med. Yes, cousin, a young prince 
 Of good discretion might. 
 
 Giov. Say you so ? 
 
 *,i] Omitted ia the 4to. of 1612.
 
 36 THR WHITE devil: or, 
 
 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 ! melhinks his horse as well 
 Might lead an army for him. If I live, 
 I'll charge the French foe in the very front 
 Of all my troops, the foremost man. 
 
 Fran, ue Med. What! what! 
 
 Giov. And will not bid mysoldiers up and follow, 
 But bid them follow me. 
 
 Brach. Forward lap-wing !f 
 He flies with the shell on's head. 
 
 Fran, de Med. 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, de Med. Ha! without their ransom! 
 How then will you reward your soldiers. 
 That took those prisoners for you ? 
 
 Giov. Thus, my lord; 
 I'll marry them to all the wealthy widows 
 That fallt that year. 
 
 Fran.de Med. Why then, the next year following. 
 You'll have no men to go with you to war. 
 
 • Danske'] i. e. Danish. 
 
 t Forward lap-wing ! 
 
 Hejiies with the shell nn'$ head.} So Horatio says ia Hamlet, 
 A. 5. S. 2. " riii-i l.iy-wiiiir ruas away with the shell on his 
 head." See Mr. Steevens's Note thereon. — Reed. 
 
 t fall] The three earliest 4tos. "falls."
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 37 
 
 Qiov. Why then I'll press the women to the war, 
 And then the men will follow. 
 
 Mont. Witty prince ! 
 
 Fran, de Med. See a good habit makes a child 
 a man, 
 Whereas a bad one makes a man a beast. 
 Come, you and I are friends. 
 
 Brach. Most wishedly : 
 Like bones which, broke in sunder, and well set, 
 Knit the more strongly. 
 
 Fran de Med. Call Camillo hither. 
 
 [Exit Mar cello. 
 You have receiv'd the rumour, how count Lodowick 
 Is turn'd a pirate? 
 
 Brach. Yes. 
 
 Fran, de Med. We are now preparing 
 Some ships to fetch him in. Behold your dutchess. 
 We now will leave you, and expect from you 
 Nothing but kind intreaty. 
 
 Brach. You have charm'd me. 
 
 Exeunt Francisco de Medicis, Monticelso, and 
 Giovanni. Flamineo retires. 
 Enter Isabella. 
 You are in health, we see. 
 
 IsAB. And above health, 
 To see my lord well. 
 
 Brach. So: I wonder much 
 JWhat amorous whirlwind hurried you to Rome. 
 
 IsAB. Devotion, my lord. 
 
 Brach. Devotion !
 
 38 THE WHITE devil: ou, 
 
 Is your soul charg'd with any grievous sin ? 
 
 TsAB. 'Tis burden'd with too many ; and I think 
 The oftencr that we cast our reckonings up, 
 Our sleeps will be the sounder. 
 Bracii. Take your chamber. 
 IsAB. Nay, my dear lord, I will not have you angry: 
 Doth not my absence from you, now* two months. 
 Merit one kiss ? 
 
 BuACH. I do not use to kiss: 
 If that will dispossess your jealousy, 
 I'll swear it to you. 
 
 IsAE. O my loved lord, 
 1 do not come to chide : my jealousy ! 
 I amf to learn what that Italian means. 
 You are as welcome to these longing arms, 
 As I to you a virgin. 
 
 Brach. O, your breath ! 
 Out upon sweet-meats and continued physick, 
 The plague is in them ! 
 
 IsAB. You have oft, for these two lips. 
 Neglected cassia, or the natural sweets 
 Of the spring-violet : ihey are not yet much wither'd, 
 My lord I should he merry : these your frowns 
 Show in a helmet lovely; but on me. 
 In such a peaceful interview, mcthinks 
 They are too too roughly knit. 
 Brach. O, dissemblance! 
 Do you bandy factions 'gainst me ? have you learnt 
 
 * now] Omitted in the two earliest 4t08. 
 •)• ail'] The 4to. of 1612 " come."
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 39 
 
 The trick of impudent baseness to complain 
 Unto your kindred ? 
 
 IsAB. Never, my dear lord. 
 
 Brach. Must I be hunted* out? or was't your trick 
 To meet some amorous gallant here in Rome, 
 That must supply our discontinuance ? 
 
 IsAB. I pray, sir, burst my heart ; and in my death 
 Turn to your ancient pity, though not love. 
 
 Brach. Becauseyour brother is the corpulent duke, 
 That is, the great duke, 'sdealh, I shall not shortly 
 Racket away five hundred crowns at tennis, 
 But it shall rest upon record ! I scorn him 
 Like a shav'd Polack ;t all his reverend wit 
 Lies in his wardrobe ; he's a a discreet fellow, 
 When he is| made up in his robes of state. 
 Your brother, the great duke, because h'as gallies, 
 And now and then ransacks a Turkish fly-boat, 
 (Now all the hellish furies take his soul !) 
 First made this match : accursed be the priest 
 That sang the wedding-mass, and even my issue ! 
 
 IsAB. O, too too far you have curs'd ! 
 
 Brach. Your hand I'll kiss; 
 This is the latest ceremony of my love. 
 Henceforth I'll never lie with thee ; by this, 
 
 • hunted] The three earliest 4tos. " haunted." 
 
 f shav'd Poluck -jI i. e. Polander. See the Notes of Mr. Pope, 
 Dr. Johnson, Mr. Steevens, on Hamlet, A. l.S. 1, In Moryson's 
 Itinerary, 1617, pt. 3. p. 170. it is said, " The Polonians shave 
 " all their heads close, excepting the haire of the forehead, 
 " which they nourish very long, and cast backe to the hinder 
 " part of the head." — Reed. 
 
 i he is] All the 4tos. " he's."
 
 40 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, 
 
 This wedding-ring, I'll ne'er more lie with thee : 
 And this divorce shall he as truly kept, 
 As if the judge had doom'd it. Fare you well : 
 Our sleeps are sever'd. 
 
 IsAB. Forbid it, the sweet union 
 Of all things blessed ! why, the saints in heaven 
 Will knit their brows at that. 
 
 BuAcn. Let not thy love 
 Make thee an unbeliever ; this my vow 
 .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 ? 
 
 Brach. Never. 
 
 IsAB. O my unkind lord! may your sins find 
 mercy. 
 As I upon a woful widow'd bed 
 Shall pray for you, if not to turn your eyes 
 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. 
 Isab. No, my dear lord ; you shall have present 
 witness 
 How I'll work peace between you. I will make 
 Myself the author of your cursed vow ; 
 I have some cause to do it, you have none.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 41 
 
 Conceal it, I beseech you, for the weal 
 
 Of both your dukedoms, that you wrought the means 
 
 Of such a separation : let the fault 
 
 Remain with my supposed jealousy, 
 
 And think with what a piteous and rent heart 
 
 I shall peiform this sad ensuing part. 
 
 Enter Francisco de Medicis and Monticelso. 
 
 Brach. Well, take your course. — My honour- 
 able brother ! 
 
 Fran, de Med. Sister! — This is not well, my 
 lord. — Why, sister ! — 
 She merits not this welcome. 
 
 Brach. Welcome, say ! 
 She hath given a sharp welcome. 
 
 Fran, de Med. 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, 
 I'll ne'er more deal between you. 
 
 IsAB. Sir, you shall not; 
 No, though Vittoria, upon that condition, 
 Would become honest. 
 
 Fran, de Med. 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, de Med. Do you hear ? 
 Look upon other women, with what patience
 
 42 THE WHITE DEVIL : OR, 
 
 They suiTer these slight wrongs, with what justice 
 They siudy to requite them : take that course. 
 
 IsAB. O that I were a man, or that I had power 
 To execute my apprehended wishes ! 
 I would whip some with scorpions. 
 
 Fran, de Med. What! turn'd fury! 
 
 IsAK. To dig the strumpet's eyes out ; let her lie 
 Some twenty months a dying; to cut oft' 
 Her nose and lips, pull out her rotten teeth ; 
 Preserve her flesh like mummia, for trophies 
 Of my just anger I 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'll never lie with you, by this, 
 This wedding-ring. 
 
 Fran, de Med. How, ne'er more lie with him! 
 
 IsAB. And this divorce shall be as truly kept 
 As if in thionged court a thousand ears 
 Had heard it, and a thousand lawyers' hands 
 Seal'd to the separation. 
 
 Brach. Ne'er lie with me! 
 
 IsAB. Let not my former dotage 
 Make thee an unbeliever ; this my vow 
 Shall never on my soul be satisfied 
 With my repentance : manet alta meiite repostum* 
 
 Fran, de Med. Now, by my birth, you are a 
 foolish, rnad, 
 
 * manet iiUii, &c.] Virgil, jEn. i. 26.
 
 VITTOUIA COROMBONA. 43 
 
 And jealous woman. 
 
 Brach. You see 'tis not my seeking. 
 
 Fran, de Med. 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 vov/ 
 And take your chamber. 
 
 Isab. No, sir, FIl presently to Padua ; 
 I will not stay a minute. 
 
 Mont. O good madam ! 
 
 Brach. '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. 
 
 Fran, de Med. To see her come 
 To my lord cardinal for a dispensation 
 Of her rash vow, will beget excellent laughter. 
 
 Isab. Unkindness, do thy office; poor heart, break: 
 Those are the killing griefs, which dare not speak.* 
 
 [Exit. 
 Enter Marcello and Camillo, 
 
 Mar. Camillo's come, my lord. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Where's the commission? 
 
 Mar. 'Tis here. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Give me the signet. 
 
 * Thdse (ire the killing grirfi) which dare 7iot speak.] So iu Mac- 
 beth, A. 4. S. 3. 
 
 " Give sorrow words : the grief that iloes not speak, 
 '• Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break." 
 Cura leves loqmmtur, ingentes stupent. — Steevens.
 
 44 THE WHITE DEVIL : OB, 
 
 IFrovcisco de Medicis, Mo?iticelso, Camillo, and 
 Marcello, retire io the back of the stage. 
 
 Flam. My lord, do you mark their whispering? 
 I will compound a medicine, out of their two heads, 
 stronger than garlick, deadlier than stibium ;* the 
 cantharides, which are scarce seen to stick upon the 
 flesh, when they v.'ork to the heart, shall not do it 
 with more silence or invisible cunning. 
 Enter Doctor. 
 
 Brach. About the murder ? 
 
 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 quack-salving knave, my lord ; 
 ne that should have been lashed for's lechery, but 
 ihat he confessed a judgment, had an execution laid 
 upon him, and so put the whip to a non plus. 
 
 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 
 lamprey ; he will poison a kiss; and was once minded 
 for his master-piece, because Ireland breeds no 
 poison,t to have prepared a deadly vapour in a Spa- 
 niard's fart, that should have poisoned all Dublin. 
 
 * ttibiwn :] An ancient name for antimony, now seldom 
 used. — Heed. 
 
 \ because Ireland heeds no poison,'] Various old writers tell 
 us that all venomous creatures were exterminated in Ireland 
 by the prayers of St. Patrick.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA, 45 
 
 Brack. O saint Anthony's fire! 
 
 Doc. Your secretary is merry, my lord. 
 
 Flam. O thou cursed antipathy to nature ! Look, 
 his eye's bloodshed, like a needle a chirurgeou 
 stitcheth a wound with. Let me embrace thee, toad, 
 and love thee, O thou abominable loathsome* 
 gargarisra, that will fetch up lungs, lights, heart, 
 and liver, by scruples ! 
 
 Brach. No more. — I must employ thee, honest 
 doctor : 
 You must to Padua, and by the way, 
 Use some of your skill for us. 
 
 Doc. Sir, I shall.f 
 
 Brack. But for Camillo ? 
 
 Flam. He dies this night, by such a politick strain, 
 Men shall suppose him by's own engine slain. 
 But for your dutchess' death — 
 
 Doc. 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 Brachiano, Flamineo, and Doctor, 
 
 Mont. Here is an emblem, nephew, pray peruse it: 
 'Twas thrown in at your window. 
 
 Cam. At my window ! 
 
 * loathiome\ Some copies of the 4to. of 1612 " tethan." 
 t Doc. Sir, I shallj Omitted in some copies of the 4to. of 
 1613,
 
 46 •iiiE wiiiTK devil: or, 
 
 Here is a stag, my lord, hath shed his horns, 
 And, for the loss of them, the poor beast weeps : 
 The word,* luopem me copia fecit. 
 
 Mont. That is, 
 Plenty of horns hath made him poor of horns. 
 
 Cam. What should this mean ? 
 
 Mont, I'll tell you ; 'tis given out 
 You are a cuckold. 
 
 Cam. Is itf given out so? 
 1 had rather such report as that, my lord, 
 Should keep within doors. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Have you any children ? 
 
 Cam. None, my lord. 
 
 Fran, de Med. You are the happier: 
 I'll tell you a tale. 
 
 Cam. Pray, my lord. 
 
 Fran, de Med. An old tale. 
 Upon a time Phoebus, the god of light, 
 Or him we call the Sun, would needs| 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, 
 Re.ipers and butter-women, amongst fishmongers, 
 And thousand other trades, which are annoy'd 
 By his excessive heat ! 'twas lamentable. 
 
 • The u.orJ.'] i. e. the motto. So Middletoa ; " The device, 
 a purse wide opeu, and the mouth downeward. The word, alie- 
 nis ecce crumenis." Your Five Gallants, u. d. Sig, H, 4. 
 
 t hit.] The Ito. of 1631. " It is." 
 
 f needi.l The ho. of 1C12, " need."
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 47 
 
 They came to Jupiter all in a sweat, 
 
 And do forbid the banes.* A great fat cook 
 
 Was made their speaker, who intreats 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 fire-works 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. 
 
 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 relieving our Italian coast 
 From pirates. 
 
 Mar. I am much honour'd in't. 
 
 Cam. But, sir, 
 
 * banes.1 I have allowed the old form of this word to remain, 
 as the following couplets shew how it used to be pronounced : 
 " The trafficke of hot love shall yeeld cold gaines, 
 They ban our loves, and weele forbid their baiaes." 
 
 The Shomaker's H.dklay, 1600, Sig. H. 3. 
 From Henslowe's invaluable MSS. where the play just quoted 
 is mentioned under its second title, The Gentli Craft, we learn 
 that it was written by Dekker. 
 
 " All that my love can give thee for thy paines, 
 lie marry thee, but death must bid the bunes." 
 W. Rowley's A Shoo-ynaker, A Genlkman, 1638. Sig. H. 4.
 
 48 TUB WHITE devil: or 
 
 Ere I return, the stag's horns maybe sprou^CT' 
 Greater than those* are shed. 
 
 Mont. Do not fear it; 
 I'll be your ranger. 
 
 Cam. You must watch i'tli' nights ; 
 Then's the most danger. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Farewell, good Marcello : 
 All the best fortunes of a soldier's wish 
 Bring you a ship board. 
 
 Cam. Were I not best, now I am turn'd 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 Camillo and Marcello. 
 
 Fran, de Med. So, 'twas well fitted; now shall 
 we discern 
 How his wish'd absence will give violent way 
 To duke Brachiano's lust. 
 
 Mont. Why, that was it; 
 To what scorn'd purpose else should we make choice 
 Of him for a sea-captain? and, besides. 
 Count Lodowick, which was rumour'd for a pirate, 
 Is now in Padua. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Is't true? 
 
 Mont. Most certain. 
 
 * those.] The 4to. of 1612, " theie."
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 49 
 
 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 dutchess. 
 
 Fran, de Med. O, 'twas well ! 
 We shall not want his absense past six days : 
 I fain would have the duke Brachiano run 
 Into notorious scandal ; for there's nought 
 In such curst dotage, to repair his name. 
 Only the deep sense of some deathless shame. 
 
 Mont. It may be objected, I am dishonourable 
 To play thus with my kinsman ; but I answer. 
 For my revenge I'd stake a brother's life. 
 That, being wrong'd, durst not avenge himself. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Come, to observe this strumpet. 
 
 Mont. Curse of greatness ! 
 Sure he'll not leave her ? 
 
 Fran, de Med. There's small pity in't : 
 Like misletoe on sear elms spent by weather, 
 Let him cleave to her, and both rot together. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Brachiano, with one in the habit of a 
 conjurer. 
 
 Brach. Now, sir, I claim your promise: 'tis 
 dead midnight. 
 The time prefix'd to show me, by your art, 
 How the intended murder of CamiUo, 
 And our loath'd dutchess, grow to action. 
 
 Con. You have won me, by your bounty, to a 
 deed 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE WHITE DEVIL : OR, 
 
 I do not often practise. Some there are, 
 
 Which by sophistick 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; 
 
 Others that raise up their confederate spirits 
 
 'Bout wind-mills, and endanger their own necks 
 
 For making of a squib ; and some there are 
 
 Will keep a curtal* to shew juggling tricks, 
 
 And give out 'tis a spirit ; besides these, 
 
 Such a whole ream of almanack-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; 
 Put on this night-cap, sir, 'tis charm'd ; and now 
 I'll shew you, by my strong commanding art, 
 The circumstance that breaks your dutchess* 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 uoses, and then burn perfumes afore the picture, 
 and wash the lips of the picture ; that done, quench- 
 ing the fire, and putting off" their spectacles, they 
 depart laughing. 
 
 * Will keep a curtal, &ic.] This was said of Baiik^s celebrated 
 Horse so often mentioned in ancient writers. Reed.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 51 
 
 Enter Isabella in her night-gown, as to bed-ward, 
 with lights after her, count Lodovico, Giovanni, 
 GuiD- ANTON 10, 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 Gio- 
 vanni, and in count Lodovico. She's conveyed out 
 solemnly. 
 
 Brack. Excellent! then she's dead. 
 
 Con. She's poisoned 
 By the fum'd 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 v/ith an oil, 
 And other poison'd stuff, which presently 
 Did suffocate her spirits. 
 
 Brack. Methought I saw 
 Count Lodowirk there. 
 
 Con. He. was; and by my art, 
 I find he did most passionately doat 
 Upon your dutchess. Now turn another way. 
 And view Camillo's far more politick fate.* 
 Strike louder, musick, from this charmed ground. 
 To yield, as fits the act, a tragick sound ! 
 
 * fate'] So the 4to. of 1672 : the earlier 4tos. have "face," 
 which, though obviously a misprint, is followed in all modem 
 editions.
 
 52 THE WHITE DEVIL : OR, 
 
 The second dumb Show. 
 
 Enter Flamineo, Marcf.llo, Camillo, with four 
 more, as captains .- they drink healths, and dance ; 
 a vaulting horse is brought into the room ; Mar- 
 cello and two more whispered out of the room, while 
 Flamineo and Camillo strip themselves into their 
 shirts, as to vault; they compliment ivho shall begin; 
 as Camillo is 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 'twere under the horse ; makes 
 shews to call for help ; Marcello comes in, laments ; 
 sends for the cardinal and duke, who come forth 
 with armed men ; wonder at the act ; command the 
 body to be carried home ; apprehend Flamineo, 
 Marcello, and the rest, and go, as 'twere, to appre- 
 hend Vittoria. 
 
 Bracii. 'Twas quaintly done; but yftt each cir- 
 cumstance 
 
 1 taste not fully. 
 
 Con. O, 'twas most apparent ! 
 
 You saw them enter, charg'd with their deep healths 
 
 To their boon 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 
 
 Tlie engine of all. 
 
 BuACH. It seems Marcello and Flamineo 
 
 Are both committed.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 53 
 
 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 
 Make out by some back postern. 
 
 Brach. Noble friend, 
 You bind me ever to you : this shall stand 
 As the firm seal annexed to ray hand; 
 It shall inforce 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. 
 Elder Francisco de Medicis, and Monticelso, 
 their Chancellor and Register. 
 
 Fran, de Med. You have dealt discreetly, to 
 obtain the presence 
 Of all the grave lieger ambassadors,* 
 To hear Vittoria's trial. 
 
 Mont. 'Twas not ill ; 
 For, sir, you know we have nought but circum- 
 stances 
 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, de Med. O fie ! 
 
 * lieger ambassadors] i. e. resident ambassadors.
 
 54 THE WHITE devil; or, 
 
 Twere impudence too palpable. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Flamineo, aiid Mavlcello guarded, and a 
 
 Lawyer. 
 
 Lawyer. What, are you in by the week?* so, I 
 will try now whether thy wit be close prisoner. Me- 
 thinks none should sit upon thy sister, but old 
 whore-masters. 
 
 Flam. Or cuckolds; lor 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 publick. 
 
 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. 
 
 Lawyer. For to sow kisses, (mark what I say,) 
 to sow kisses is to reap lechery ; and, I am sure, a 
 woman that will endure kissing is half won. 
 
 Flam. True, her upper part, by that rule ; if you 
 will win her nether part too, you know what follows. 
 
 Lawyer. Hark! the ambassadors are lighted. 
 
 • What, are you in by the uee/c?] Ihis phrase appears to sig- 
 nify an engagement for a time limited. It occurs in Love's La- 
 hour Lcit, A, 5. S. 2. See Note thereon. Steevens.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBOXA. 55 
 
 Flam. 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 am 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, like 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.f 
 
 Mar. Brother! 
 
 * Which in thy palm thoii bear'st, as men hold water ; 
 Seeking to gripe itfaat, the frail reward 
 
 Steals through thy Jingers.J Dryden has borrowed this 
 thought in All for Love; or, The World uell Lost, A. 5. 
 " Oh that I less could fear to lose this Being, 
 " Which like a snow-ball in mv coward hand 
 " The more 'tis grasp'd, thefaster melts away," — Reed. 
 t shamoisl i- 6- shoes made of the wild goat's skin, Chaviois, 
 Fr. — Steevens.
 
 66 THE WHITE devil: OR, 
 
 Flam. Hear tne : 
 And thus, when we have even pour'd ourselves 
 Into great fights, for their ambition, 
 Or idle spleen, how shall we find reward? 
 But as we seldom find the misletoe 
 Sacred to physic, or the builder oak,* 
 Without a mandrake by it ; so in our quest of gain, 
 Alas, the poorest of their forc'd dislikes 
 At a limb proflfers, but at heart it strikes! 
 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'erf every politick respect, 
 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. 
 
 Here there is a passage of the lieger ambassadors 
 over the stage severally.X 
 
 • The huiklei- oak.l The epithet of " builder oak" isoriginally 
 Chaucer's ; 
 
 " The hililer oke, and eke the hardy ashe 
 " The piller elme," &c. — Assemblie of Foules. Collier, 
 f o'er"] The 4tos. " over." 
 
 i 1 have here omitted, as superlluoue, some notices, " Enter 
 Fretich Ambassador," &c.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 57 
 
 Lawyer. O my sprightly Frenchman ! Do you 
 know him ? he's an admirable tilter. 
 
 Flam. I saw him at last tilting: he shewed 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. 
 
 Lawyer. O, but he 's an excellent horseman ! 
 
 Flam. A lame one in his lofty tricks ; he sleeps a 
 horseback, like a poulter.f 
 
 Lawyer. Lo you, my Spaniard ! 
 
 Flam. He carries his face in's ruff, as I have 
 seen a serving-man carry glasses in a cypress hat- 
 band, monstrous steady, for fear of breaking : he 
 looks like the claw of a black-bird, first salted, and 
 then broiled in a candle. [Exeunt. 
 
 The Arraignment of Yittoki a. 
 Enter Francisco de Medicis, Monticelso, the 
 
 sixl lieger Ambassadors, Brachiano, Vittoria 
 
 CoROMBONA, FlaMINEO, MaRCELLO, LaWYER, 
 
 and a Guard. 
 
 * a pewter candlestick, fashioned, (5fe.] See an engraving of such 
 a candlestick in Malone's Shakespeare (by Boswell,) vol. rvii. 
 p. 410. 
 
 t poultei'l i. e. poulterer. " The Poulters send us in fowle." 
 Heywood's King Edward the Fourth, part first, Sig. B. ed. 1619. 
 
 t six'] Was altered by Reed to "four ;" but from a subsequent 
 scene, where Lodovico enumerates their various orders of 
 knighthood, it is evident that there were " six" ambassadors. — 
 It is not a little extraordinary that all the editors should let the 
 name of Isabella (whose death has been shewn by the Conjurer) 
 remain in this stage direction.
 
 58 THE WHITE DEVIL : OR, 
 
 Mont. Forbear, my lord, here is no place assign 'd 
 you: 
 This business, by his holiness, is left 
 To our examination. 
 
 Bracu. May it thrive with you. 
 
 [Lays a rich gown under him. 
 
 Fran, de Med. A chair there for his lordship. 
 
 Brach. 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 hanc 
 pestem mulierum corruptissimam. 
 
 ViT. Cor. What's he? 
 
 Fran, de Med. A lawyer that pleads against you. 
 
 ViT. Cor. Pray, my lord, let him speak bis usual 
 tongue, 
 I'll make no answer else. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Why, you understand Latin. 
 
 ViT. Cor. 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. Coa. By your favour, 
 I will not have my accusation clouded 
 
 * gentlewoman] Both the earliest 4tos. " gentleivomen."
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 59 
 
 In a strange tongue: all this assembly 
 Shall hear what you can charge me with. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Signior, 
 You need not stand on't much ; pray, change your 
 language. 
 
 Mont. O, for God's sake — Gentlewoman, your 
 credit 
 Shall be more famous by it. 
 
 Lawyer. Well then, have at you. 
 
 ViT. Cor. 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 lord- 
 ships 
 So to connive your judgments to the view 
 Of this debaush'd and diversivolent woman ; 
 Who such a blackf concatenation 
 Of mischief hath effected, that to extirp 
 The memory oft, must be the consummation 
 Of her, and her projections. 
 
 ViT. CoR. What's all this ? 
 
 Lawyer. Hold your peace ! 
 Exorbitant sins must have exulceration. 
 
 * I'll give aiin] " He who gave aim was stationed near the 
 butts, and pointed out after every discharge, how wide, or how 
 short, the arrow fell of the mark." See Gifford's excellent note 
 on the expressions cry aim and give aim, Massinger's Bondman,^ 
 act 1. sc. 3. 
 
 t black] Omitted in tlie 4to. of 1631.
 
 60 THE WHITE devil; OR, 
 
 ViT. Cor. Surely, my lords, this lawyer here* 
 hath swallow'd 
 Some 'pothecaries't bills, or proclamations ; 
 And now the hard and undigestible words 
 Come up, like stones we use give hawks for physick : 
 Why, this is Welch to Latin. 
 
 Lawyer. My lords, the woman 
 Knows not her tropes, nor figures,! nor is perfect 
 In the academick derivation 
 Of grammatical elocution. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Sir, your pains 
 Shall be well spar'd, and your deep eloquence 
 Be worthily applauded amongst those 
 Which understand you. 
 
 Lawyer. My good lord. 
 
 Fran, de Med. 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 learn'd verbosity. 
 
 Lawyer. I most graduatically thank your lord- 
 ship : 
 I shall have use for them elsewhere. 
 
 Mont. I shall be plainer with you, and paint out 
 Your follies in more natural red and white 
 Than that upon your cheek. 
 
 • here] Omitted in tlie 4to. of 1631. 
 
 f 'pothecariei''] The 4to. of 1G31 " apothecaries" 
 
 t norjigures] Omitted in the 4to. of 1631.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 61 
 
 ViT. Cor. 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 honour'd lords, 
 A woman of a most prodigious spirit, 
 In her effected. 
 
 ViT. Cor. My honourable lord,* 
 It doth not suit a reverend cardinal 
 To play the lawyer thus. 
 
 Mont. O, your trade instructs your language ! 
 You see, ray lords, what goodly fruit she seems ; 
 Yet hke those apples t 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. Cor. Your envenom'd 
 
 * my honourable lord] The 4to. of 1612 '' honourable my lord." 
 f Yet like those apples, &c.] This account is taken from Maun- 
 dexiUe's Travels. See Edition, 1725, p. 122. "And also the 
 " Cytees there weren lost, hecause of Synne. And there be- 
 " syden growen trees, that beren {Mefaire Apples, andfaire of 
 " colour to beholde ; but whoso brehelhe hem, or cuttethe hemin two, 
 " he schalle fynde within hem Coles and Cyndres ; in tokene that, 
 " be Wrathe of God, the Cytees and the Lond weren brente 
 " and sonken into Helle. Sum men clepen that See, the Lake 
 " Dalfetidee ; summe the Flom of Develes ; and sume that 
 " Flom that is ever stynkynge. And in to that See, sonken 
 " the 5 Cytees, be Wrathe of God ; that is to seyne, Sodom, 
 " Gomorve, Aldama, Scboym, and Segor."— Reed.
 
 62 THE WHITE devil; OR, 
 
 'Pothecary* should do't. 
 
 Mont. I am resolv'd,t 
 Were there a second paradise to lose, 
 This devil would betray if. 
 
 ViT. CoR. O poor charity! 
 Thou art seldom found in scarlet. 
 
 Mont. Who knows not how, when several night 
 by night 
 Her gates were choak'd with coaches, and her rooms 
 Outbrav'd the stars with several kind of lights ; 
 When she did counterfeit a prince's court 
 In musick, banquets, and most riotous surfeits ; 
 This whore forsooth was holy. 
 
 ViT, CoR. Ha! whore ! what's that ? 
 
 Mont. Shall I expound whore to you ? sure I 
 shall ; 
 I'll give their perfect character. They are first, 
 Sweet-raeats which rot the eater ; in man's nostrils t 
 Poison'd perfumes. They are cozening alchymy ; 
 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, 
 Ay, even on man's perdition, his sin. 
 
 * 'Pothecary'] The 4to. of 1631 " apothecary." 
 
 t resotv'iQ i. e. convinced. 
 
 t nostrils] TLe 4to. of 1012 " iwstril."
 
 VITTORtA COnOMBONA. 63 
 
 They are those brittle evidences of law, 
 
 Which forfeit all a wretched man's estate 
 
 For leaving out one syllable. What are whores ! 
 
 They are those flattering bells have all one tune, 
 
 At weddings and at funerals. Your rich whores 
 
 Are only treasuries by extortion fill'd, 
 
 And emptied by curs'd riot. They are worse. 
 
 Worse than dead bodies which are begg'd at gallows,* 
 
 And wrought upon by surgeons, to teach man 
 
 Wherein he is imperfect. What's a whore ! 
 
 She's like the guiltyf counterfeited coin, 
 
 Which, whosoe'er first stamps it, brings in trouble 
 
 AUjlhat receive it. 
 
 ViT. CoR. This character 'scapes rae. 
 
 Mont. You, gentlewoman ! 
 Take from all beasts and from all minerals 
 Their deadly poison — 
 
 ViT. Cor. Well, what then ? 
 
 Mont. I'll tell thee ; 
 I'll find in thee a 'pothecary'sj shop, 
 To sample them all. 
 
 Fr. Am. She hath liv'd ill. 
 
 Eng. Am. True, but the cardinal's too bitter. 
 
 Mont. You know what whore is. Next the devil 
 adultery. 
 Enters the devil murder. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Your unhappy 
 
 * gallows] The 4to. of 1631 " th' galloovs.' 
 
 t guilty] The 4to of 1631 " gilt." 
 
 J a'pothecary's] The 4 to. of 1631 '^ an apothecary's."
 
 64 THE WHITE devil: or, 
 
 Husband is dead. 
 
 ViT. Cor. O, he's a happy husband ! 
 Now he owes nature nothing. 
 
 Fran, de Med. And by a vaulting engine. 
 
 Mont, An active plot ; he jump'd into his grave. 
 
 Fran, de Med. What a prodigy was't, 
 That from some two yards' height,* a slender man 
 Should break his neck ! 
 
 Mont. I'th' rushes ! 
 
 Fran, de Med. And what's more, 
 Upon the instant lose all use of speech, 
 All vital motion, like a man had lain 
 Wound up three days. Now mark each circum- 
 stance. 
 
 Mont. And look upon this creature was his wife. 
 She comes not like a widow ; she comes arm'd 
 With scorn and impudence : is this a mourning- 
 habit ? 
 
 Vit. Cor. Had I foreknown his death, as you 
 suggest, 
 I would have bespoke my mourning. 
 
 Mont. O, you are cunning! 
 
 Vit. Cor. You shame your wit and judgment, 
 To call it so. What ! is my just defence 
 By him that is my judge call'd impudence ? 
 Let me appeal then from this Christian courtf 
 
 • height.] The 4to. of 16S1 " high." 
 ■j- Christian cmrt.'] We have here an instance of the introduc- 
 tion of terms into one country, which peculiarly belong to an- 
 other. In England the Ecclesiastical courts, where causes of 
 adultery are cognizable, are called Courts Christian. — Reed.
 
 4 
 TITTORIA COROMBONA. 65 
 
 To the uncivil Tartar. 
 
 MoN r. See, my lords, 
 She scandals our proceedings. 
 
 ViT. CoR. Humbly thus, 
 Thus low, to the most worthy and respected 
 Lieger ambassadors, my modesty 
 And woman -hood I tender ; but withal, 
 So intangled in a cursed accusation. 
 That my defence, of force, like Perseus,* 
 Must personate mascuhne virtue. To the point. 
 Find me but guilty, sever head from body, 
 We'll part good friends : I scorn to hold my life 
 At yours, or any man's intreaty, sir. 
 
 Eng. Am. She hath a brave spirit. 
 
 Mont. Well, well, such counterfeit jewels 
 Make true ones oft suspected. 
 
 ViT. CoR. You are deceiv'd : 
 For know, that all your strict-combined heads, 
 Which strike against this mine of diamonds, 
 Shall prove but glassen hammers, they shall break. 
 These are but feigned shadows of my evils : 
 Terrify babes, my lord, with painted devils,t 
 I am past such needless palsy. For your names 
 
 • Perseris ] A iriisprint, which I cannot rectify. The Rev^ 
 J. Mitford ingeniously suggests " Portia's" as the right reading, 
 with an allusion to Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice, Act 4. 
 
 f Terrify babes, 7ny lord, with painted devils] So in Macbeiii, 
 A. 2. S. 2. 
 
 " — 'tis the eye of childhood 
 " That fears a panted devil," — Reed. 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 Tt'fiE WHITE devil: or, 
 
 Ot" whore and murderess, they proceed from you, 
 As if a man should spit against the wind ; 
 The filth returns in's face. 
 
 Mont. Pray you, mistress, satisfy me one ques- 
 tion : 
 Who lodg'd beneath your roof that fa'.al night 
 Your husband brake his neck. 
 
 Brach. 'I'hat question 
 Inforceth me break silence; I was there. 
 
 Mo N T. Your business ? 
 
 Brach. Why, I came to comfort her, 
 And take some course for settling her estate, 
 Because 1 heard her husband was in debt 
 To you, my lord. 
 
 Mont. He was. 
 
 Brack. And 'twas strangely fear'd, 
 That you would cozen her. 
 
 Mont. Who made you overseer ? 
 
 Brack. Why, my charity, my charity, which 
 should flow 
 From every generous and noble spirit, 
 To orphans and to widows. 
 
 Mont. Your lust. 
 
 Brack. Cowardly dogs bark loudest: sirrah 
 priest, 
 I'll talk with yoii hereafter. Do you hear ? 
 The sword you franic of such an excellent temper, 
 I'll sheathe in your own bowels. 
 There are a number of thy coat resemble 
 Your common post-boys.
 
 VITTORTA COROMBONA. 67 
 
 iMoNT. Ha .' 
 
 Brack. Your mercenary post-boys ; 
 Your letters carry truth, but 'tis your guise 
 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 
 The rest a'th' household-stuff; for Brachiano 
 Was ne'er so beggarly to taice a stool 
 Out of another's lodging : let him make 
 Vallance for his bed on't, or a demy foot-cloth 
 For his most reverend moile.* Monticelso, 
 Nemo me impuiie lacessit. \_Erit. 
 
 Mont. Your champion's gone. 
 
 ViT. Cor. The wolf may prey the better. 
 
 Fran, de Med. My lord, there's great suspicion 
 of the murder. 
 But no sound proof who did it. For my part, 
 1 do not think she hath a soul so black 
 To act a deed so bloody ; if she have. 
 As in cold countries husband- men plant vines. 
 And with warm blood manure them ; even so 
 One summer she will 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. Cor. I discern poison 
 Under your gilded pills. 
 
 * moUe] i. e. mule.
 
 68 THE WHITE DEVI I,: OU, 
 
 Mont. Now the duke's gone, I will produce a 
 letter 
 "Wherein 'twas plotted, he and you should meet 
 At an apothecary's suniiiier-house, 
 Down by the river Tiher, — view't my lords, — 
 Where after wanton bathing and the heat 
 Of a lascivious banquet — 1 pray read it, 
 1 shame to speak the rest. 
 
 ViT. CoK. Grant I was tempted ; 
 Temptation to lust proves not the act : 
 Casta eat quam nemo rugavit. 
 You read his hot love to me, but you want 
 My frosty answer. 
 
 Mont. Frost i'th' dog-days ! strange ! 
 
 ViT. CoR. Condemn you me for that the duke did 
 love me '. 
 So may you blame some fair and crystal river. 
 For that some melancholick distracted man 
 Hath drown'd himself in't. 
 
 Mont. Truly drown'd, indeed. 
 
 Vn . Cor. Sum up my faults, I pray, and you 
 shall find, 
 That beauty and gay clothes, a merry heart, 
 And a good stomach to [a] feast, are all. 
 All the poor crimes that you can charge me with. 
 In failh, my lord, you might go pistol flies, 
 '1 he sport would be more noble. 
 
 Mont. Very good. 
 
 ViT. Cor. But take you your course: it seems 
 you have beggar'd me first,
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 69 
 
 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 eood shape, behold his picture. 
 
 ViT. CoR. You have one virtue left, 
 You will not flatter me. 
 
 Fran. DE Med. Who brought this letter ? 
 
 ViT. Cor. I am not compell'd to tell you. 
 
 Mont. My lord duke sent to you a thousand 
 ducais 
 The twelfth of August. 
 
 ViT. Cor. 'Twas to keep your cousin 
 From prison ; I paid use for't. 
 
 Mont. I rather think, 
 'Twas interest for his lust. 
 
 ViT. CoR. Who says so 
 But yourself? if you be my accuser, 
 Pray 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 loving 
 [• As to my thoughts, had you an honest tongue, 
 ! I would not care though you proclaim'd them all. 
 
 Mont. Go to, go to. 
 After your goodly and vaiu-glorious banquet, 
 I'll give you a choak-pear. 
 
 * cruiadoei] The Portuguese coin, called Crusado from the 
 cross on one side of it, has varied in value, at different times, 
 froiQ 2s. 3d. to 10a.
 
 70 THE WHITE devil: or, 
 
 ViT. Cou. A' your own grafting? 
 
 Mont. You were born in Venice, honourably de- 
 scended 
 From the VittelH: 'twas my cousin's fate, 
 111 may I name the hour, to marry you ; 
 He bought you of your father. 
 
 ViT. Cor. Ha! 
 
 Mont. He spent there in six months 
 Twelve thousand ducats, and (to ray acquaintance) 
 Receiv'd in dowry with you not onejulio:* 
 'Twas a hard penny-worth, 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. Cor. 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 play'd a'th' stage. 
 But that vice many limes finds such loud friends, 
 That preachers are charm'd silent. 
 You gentlemen, Flamineo and Marcello, 
 The court hath nothing now to charge you with. 
 Only you must remain upon your sureties 
 For your appearance. 
 
 FiiAN. DE Med. I stand for Marcello. 
 
 * Julio] A coin of about six-pence value. Moryson, in ibc 
 Table prefixed to his Itinerary, calls it a Giulio or Paolo. 
 
 Reed.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 71 
 
 Flam. And my lord duke for me. 
 
 Mont. For you, Vittoria, your public fault, 
 Join'd to ih' 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 styl'd 
 No less in* ominous fate than blazing stars 
 To princes: hearf your sentence ; you are confin'd 
 Unto a house of converlites, and your bawd — J 
 
 Flam. Who, I? 
 
 Mont. The Moor. 
 
 Flam. O, I am a sound man again. 
 
 V IT. Cor, a house of convertites ! what's that ? 
 
 Mont. A house 
 Of penitent whores. 
 
 ViT. CoR. Do the noblemen in Rome 
 Erect it for their wives, that I am sent 
 To lodge there ? 
 
 Fran, be Med, You must have patience. 
 
 ViT. CoR. I must first have vengeance. 
 I fain would know if you have your salvation 
 By patent, that you proceed thus. 
 
 Mont. Away with her, 
 Take her hence. 
 
 ViT. CoR. A rape ! a rape! 
 
 * in] The 4to. of 1631 " an." 
 t hear'] The 4to. of 1612 " heares," i. e., perhaps, " here's." 
 X Both the earliest 4tos. give this line to Vittoria. The 4to. 
 
 of 1631 here, and in all other places where the word occurs, 
 
 changes " convertites" into " converts."
 
 72 THE WHITE devil: or. 
 
 Mont. How? 
 
 ViT. CoK. Yes, you have ravish'd justice ; 
 Forc'd her to do your pleasure. 
 Mont. Fie, she's mad ! 
 
 ViT. Cor. Die with those* pil's in your most 
 cursed maw,t 
 Should bring you health ! or while you sit o'th' 
 
 bench. 
 Let your own spittle choak you ! 
 Mont. She's turn'd fury. 
 
 ViT. Cor. That the last day of judgment may so 
 find you, 
 And leave you the same devil you were before ! 
 Instruct me, some good horse-leech, to speak treason ; 
 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 miiigating title? 
 Mont. Of convertites. 
 
 ViT. CoR. It shall not be a house of convertites ; 
 My mind shall make it houester to me 
 Than the Pope's palace, and more peaceable 
 Than thy soul, though thou art a cardinal. 
 Know this, and let it somewhat raise your spite, 
 
 • those] Both the earliest 4t08. " these." 
 f maw] The 4to. of 1612 " maws, " but, as a few lines after, 
 she sayf«, " leave you the same devil," the reading of the 4ta. 
 of 1631, which I have given, seems to be the right one.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 73 
 
 Through darkness diamonds spread their richest 
 light.* 
 [Exeunt Viltoria Corombona, Lawyer, avd Guards. 
 
 Enter Brachiano. 
 Brack. Now you and I are friends, sir, we'll 
 shake hands 
 In a friend's grave together ; a fit place, 
 Being th' emblem of soft peace, t'atonef our hatred. 
 Fran, de Med. Sir, what's the matter? 
 Brach. I will not chase more blood from that 
 lov'd cheek ; 
 You have lost too much already ; fare you well. [Exit. 
 Fran, de Med. How strange these words sound! 
 
 what's the interpretation ? 
 Flam. Good; this is a preface to the discovery 
 of the dutchess's death : he carries it well. Because 
 
 * " This White Devil of Italy sets off a bad cause so speci- 
 ously, and pleads with such an innocence-resembling boldness, 
 that we seem to see that matchless beauty of her face which 
 inspires such gay confidence into lier ; and are ready to expect, 
 when she has done her pleadings, that her very judges, her ac- 
 cusers, the grave ambassadors who sit as spectators, and all the 
 court, will rise and make proffer to defend her in spite of the 
 utmost conviction of her guilt ; as the shepherds in Don 
 Quixote make proffer to follow the beautiful shepherdess Mar- 
 cela, ' without reaping any profit out of her manifest resolution 
 made there in their hearing.' 
 
 So sweet and lovely does she make the shame, 
 Which, like a canker in the fragrant rose, 
 Does spot the beauty of her budding name." 
 
 C. Lamb. {Spec, of Eng. Dram. Poets, p. 229.) 
 t t'dtone^ i. e. reconcile. — Steevens.
 
 74 THE WHITE devil: or, 
 
 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 ; 1 will talk to any man, hear no man, and for a 
 time appear a politick madman. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Giovanni, Counl Lodovico, and 
 attendant. 
 
 Fran, de Med. How now, my noble cousin? 
 what, in black ! 
 
 Giov. Yes, uncle, I was taught to imitate you 
 In virtue, and you must imitate me 
 In colours of your garments. My sweet mother 
 Is— 
 
 Fran, de Med. How? where? 
 
 Giov. Is there; no, yonder: indeed, sir, I'll 
 not tell you. 
 For I shall make you weep. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Is dead? 
 
 Giov. Do not blame me now, 
 I did not tell you so. 
 
 LoD. She's dead, my lord, 
 
 Fran de Med. Dead ! 
 
 Mont. Bless'd lady, thou art now above thy woes ! 
 Wilt please your lordships to withdraw a little? 
 
 [Exeunt Ambassadors. 
 
 Giov. What do the dead do, uncle? do they eat, 
 Hear musick, go a hunting, and be merry, 
 As we that live ? 
 
 * hath] The 4to. of 1631 "wit/i."
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 75 
 
 Fran, de Med. No, coz ; they sleep. 
 Giov. Lord, lord, that I were dead! 
 I have not slept these six nights. When do they wake? 
 Fran, de Med. When God shull 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 us'd her now she's dead : 
 They wrapp'd her in a cruel fold of lead, 
 And would not let me kiss her. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Thou did'st love her. 
 Giov. I have often heard her say she gave me suck, 
 And it should seem by that she dearly lov'd me. 
 Since princes seldom do it. 
 
 Fran, de Med. O, all of my poor sister that 
 remains ! 
 Take him away for God's sake I 
 
 [Exeunt Giovanni, and attendant. 
 Mont. How now, my lord? 
 Fran, de Med. Believe me, I am nothing but 
 her grave ; 
 And I shall keep her blessed memory 
 Longer than thousand epitaphs. 
 
 [Exeunt Francisco de Medicis and Monticelao. 
 Enter Flamineo as distracted. 
 Flam. We endure the strokes like anvils or hard 
 steel, 
 
 * Both the earliest 4tos. give this line to Francisco.
 
 76 THE WHITE DEVIL ! OR, 
 
 Till pain itself make us no pain to feel. 
 Who shall do me right now ? is this the end of ser- 
 vice ? I'd rather go weed garlick ; travel through 
 France, and be mine own ostler; wear sheep-skin 
 linings, or shoes that stink of blacking; be entered 
 into tha list of the forty thousand pedlars in Poland. 
 
 Euh:r Ambassadors. 
 Would I had rotted in some surgeon's house at 
 Venice, built upon the pox as well as on piles, ere I 
 had served Brachiano! 
 
 Savoy Amb. You must have comfort. 
 
 Flam. Your comfortable words are like honey; 
 they relish well in your mouth that's whole, but in 
 mine that's wounded, they go down as if the sting of 
 the bee were in them. O, they have wrought their 
 purpose cunningly, as if they would not seem to do 
 it of malice ! In this a politician imitates the devil, 
 as the devil imitates a cannon ; wheresoever he 
 comes to do mischief, he comes with his backside 
 towards you. 
 
 FiiENCii Amb. The proofs are evident. 
 
 Flam. Proof! 'twas corruption. O gold, what a 
 god art thou ! and O man, what a devil art thou to 
 be tempted by that cursed mineral ! Your* diversivo- 
 lent lawyer, mark him : knaves turn informers, as 
 maggots turn to flies, you may catch gudg^eons with 
 either. A cardinal ! I would he would hear me : 
 there's nothing so holy but money will corrupt and 
 putrify it, like victualf under the line. You are 
 
 • y(nir~\ The three earliest 4tos. " you." 
 t vktuall The 4to. of 1631 " victuals."
 
 VITTORIA COROMBUN'A. 
 
 happy in England, my lord ; here they sell justice 
 with those weights they press men to death with. O 
 horrible salary ! 
 
 Eng. Amb. Fie, fie, Flaraineo. 
 
 [Exeunt Ambassadors. 
 Fl/im. Bells ne'er ling 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 privileged from the rack ; and 
 well may, for a little thing would pull some of them 
 a'pieces afore they came to their arraignment. Re- 
 ligion, O how it is commedled* with policy! The 
 first blood shed in the world happened about religion. 
 Would I were a Jew ! 
 
 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 
 gentlemen enough, so many early mushrooms, whose 
 best growth sprang from a dunghill, should not 
 aspire to gentility. Farewell : let others live by 
 begging ; be thou one of them practise the art of 
 Wolner in England, f to swallow all's given thee ; 
 
 * cnmwedled] i. e. co-mingled. To meddle aiuiently signi- 
 fied to mix, or mingle. Steevens. 
 
 f the art of Wolner in England.'} The exploits of this glutton.
 
 78 TIIE WHITE DEVIL : OR 
 
 and yet let one purgation make thee as hungry again 
 as fellows that work in a* saw-pit. 1*11 go hear the 
 screech-owl. ^Exit. 
 
 LoD. This was Brachiano's pander ; and 'tis strange 
 That in such open, and apparent guilt 
 Of his adulterous sister, he dare utter 
 
 and the manner of bis death, are mentioned by Dr. Moffet, who 
 wrote in (Jueen Elizabeth's time. See his Treatise, entitled 
 " Health's Improvement : or, Rules comprizing and discover- 
 " inw the nature, method, and manner of preparing all sorts of 
 " foods used in this nation." Republished by Oldys and Dr. 
 .Tames, 12mo. 174G. " Neither was our country always void of 
 " a IVoolmar, who living in my memory in the court seemed 
 " like another Pandareus, of whom Antonius Liberalis writeth 
 " thus much, that he had obtained this gift of the Goddess 
 " Ceres, to eat iron, glass, oyster-shells, raw fish, raw flesh, raw 
 " fruit, and whatsoever else he would put into his stomach, with- 
 " out offense." P. 376. " Other fish being eaten raw, is harder 
 " of digestion than raw beef; for Uiogenes died with eating of 
 " raw fish ; and Wolmer (our English Pandareus) digesting 
 " iron, glass, and oyster-shells, by eating a raw eel was over- 
 " mastered." P. 123. He is also mentioned by Taylor the 
 Water Poet, in his account of The Great Kater of Kent, p. 145. 
 " Milo the Crotonian could hardly be his equall ; cuad Woolner 
 " of Windsor was not worthy to bee his footman." In the 
 books of the Stationers company, in the year 1567, is the fol- 
 lowing entry : " llec. of Henry Uenham, for his lycense for the 
 " pryntinge of a booke iutituleu Pleasaunte Tales of the iyf of 
 " liychardWolner, &CC." Reed. 
 
 The seventh chapter of The Life (f Long Meg of Westminster, 
 1635, relates " how she used Woolner the singing manof]Vi7ul- 
 sor, that was the great eater, and how she made him pay for his 
 breakfast." 
 
 * (I J Omitted in the 4 to. of 1612.
 
 VITTORIA COROMEONA. 79 
 
 So scandalous a passion. I must wind him. 
 Enter Flamineo. 
 
 Flam. How dares this banish 'd count return to 
 Rome, 
 His pardon not yet purchas'd ! I have heard 
 The deceased dutchess gave him pension, 
 And that he came along from Padua 
 I'th' train of the young prince. There's somewhat 
 
 in't : 
 Physicians, that cure poisons, still do work 
 With counter-poisons. 
 
 Mar. Mark this strange encounter. 
 
 Flam. The god of melancholy turn thy gall to 
 poison, 
 And let the stigmatick* wrinkles in thy face, 
 Like to the boisterous waves in a rough tide, 
 One still overtake another. 
 
 LoD. I do thank thee, 
 And I do wish ingeniouslyf for thy sake, 
 The dog-days all year long. 
 
 Flam. How croaks the raven ? 
 Is our good dutchess dead ? 
 
 LoD. Dead. 
 
 * stigmatick'] i. e. marked as with a brand of infamy. 
 
 Steevens. 
 So Heywood ; 
 
 " Print in my face 
 The most stigmaticke title of a villaine.'' 
 
 A Woman Kilde with Kindness, 1617, Sig, C. 4. 
 f ingeniously] By writers of Webstei's time, ingenious and 
 ingemious are often confounded.
 
 80 THE WHITE devil: on, 
 
 Fi.AM. O fate! 
 Misfortune comes like the coroner's business 
 Huddle upon huddle. 
 
 LoD. Shalt thou ar.'d I join house-keepir.g ? 
 
 Fl\m. Yes, content: 
 Let's be unsociablY sociable. 
 
 LoD. Sit some three days together, and discourse? 
 
 Flam. Only with making faces ; lie in our clothes. 
 
 Lot>. With faggots for our pillows. 
 
 Flam. And be lousy. 
 
 LoD. Tn tafFata linings, that's genteel melancholy; 
 Sleep all day. 
 
 Flam. Yes; and, like your melancholick* hare, 
 Feed after midnight. 
 We are observ'd: see how yon couple grieve. f 
 
 LoD. What a strange creature is a laughing fool ! 
 -As if man were created to no use 
 But only to shew hrs teeth. 
 
 Flam. Til tell thee what, 
 It would do well instead of looking-glasses, 
 To set one's face each morning by at saucer 
 Of a witch's congeul'd blood. 
 
 LoD. Precious rogue !§ 
 
 • meliinchnlick'\ tlie 4to. of 1631 " meluncholij." — On the me- 
 lanchol)- of a hare see the notes of Sliake.';peare'(> commentators. 
 First ]><iri if Henri) TV. act i. sc. 2. 
 
 •}■ see bnw yot couple grieve'] Most probably he alludes to Fran- 
 cisco and .Monticctso, who subsequently enter, but who certainly 
 are not on the stage at present. There is very great difficulty in 
 arranging the exits and entrances in this scene. 
 
 X a] the 4to. of 1C31 " the." 
 
 $ rogut] Some copies of the 4 to. of 1C12 " gue," other copies
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 81 
 
 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. 
 Enter Antonelli and Gasparo. 
 
 Anto. My lord, I bring good news. The Pope, 
 on's death-bed, 
 At th' earnest suit of the great duke of Florence, 
 Hath sign'd your pardon, and restor'd unto you 
 
 LoD. I thank you for your news. Lookup 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' like 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! 
 
 LoD. Look you, I spake that laughing. 
 
 Flam. Dost ever think to speak again? 
 
 " grine rouge;" the 4to. of 1631 " u-ue ;" the 4tos, of 1(565 and 
 1672 rogue," 
 
 * crabbed] the 4tO. of 1631 " sahhy." 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 THE WHITE DEVIL : OR, 
 
 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 day-light, 
 By being in debt. 
 
 LoD. Ha, ha ! 
 
 Flam. I do not greatly wonder you do break, 
 Your lordship learn'd 't long since. But I'll tell you. 
 
 LoD. What? 
 
 Flam. And't shall stick by you. 
 
 LoD. I long for it. 
 
 Flam. This laughter scurvily becomes your face : 
 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 Mar cello and Flamineo. 
 That e'er I should be forc'd to right myself, 
 Upoii a pander I 
 
 Anto. My lord. 
 
 LoD. H' had been as good met with his fist a 
 thunderbolt. 
 
 Gas. How this shews ! 
 
 LoD. Uds'dcath! how did my sword miss him? 
 These rogues that are most weary of their lives 
 Still 'scape the greatest dangers.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 83 
 
 A pox upon him ; all his reputation, 
 
 Nay, all the goodness of his family, 
 
 Is not worth half this earthquake : 
 
 I learn'd it of no fencer to shake thus : 
 
 Come, I'll forget him, and go drink some wine. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Enter Francisco de Medicis and Monticelso. 
 Mont. Come, come, my lord, untie your folded 
 thoughts, 
 And let them dangle loose, as a bride's hair.* 
 Your sister's poison'd. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Far be it from my thoughts 
 To seek revenge. 
 
 Mont. What, are you turn'd all marble? 
 Fran, de Med. Shall I defy him, and impose a 
 war. 
 Most burthen some 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 caus'd it first proceed, 
 Shall find it in his grave, and in his seed. 
 
 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 conceal'd, 
 
 * — untie your folded tJiou^hrs, 
 
 And let them dangle loose, as a bride's /lair] Brides formerly 
 walked to church with their hair haugiug loose behind. Anna 
 BuUen's was thus dishevelled when she went to the altar with 
 King Henry the Eighth. — Steevens.
 
 84 THE WHITE DEVIL : ORj 
 
 And, patient as the tortoise, let this camel 
 
 Stalk o'er your back unbruis'd : 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 like a cunning fowler, close one eye, 
 
 That you the Iietter may your game espy. 
 
 Fran, dk Med. Free me, my innocence, from 
 treacherous acts ! 
 I Irnow 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 honour'd lord, 
 It is reported you possess a book, 
 Wherein you have quoted,* by intelligence, 
 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 
 The art of conjuring, yet in it lurk 
 The names of many devils. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Pray let's see it. 
 
 Mont. I'll fetch it to your lordship. [Exit. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Monticelso, 
 I will not trust thee, but in all my plots 
 I'll rest as jealous as a town besieg'd. 
 
 * qurOledJ i. e. noted. Reed.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 85 
 
 Thou canst not reach what I intend to act : 
 Your flax soon kindles, soon is out again, 
 But gold slow heats, and long will hot remain. 
 
 Enter Monticelso, presew^s Francisco de Me- 
 Dicis witli a hook. 
 
 Mont. 'Tis here, my lord. 
 
 Fran, de Med. 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 politick bankrupts ; 
 For fellows that are bawds to their own wives. 
 Only to put off horses, and slight jewels. 
 Clocks, defac'd plate, and such commodities^ 
 At birth of their first children. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Are there such ? 
 
 Mont. These are for impudent bawds. 
 That go in men's apparel ; for usurers 
 
 * — that undo young gentlemen, 
 
 By taking up commodities] It was the practice of usurers 
 formerly, and has been continued by theii- successors even to the 
 present times, to defraud the necessitous who borrow money by 
 furnishing them with goods and wares, to be converted into cash 
 at a great loss to the borrower. This was done to avoid the 
 penal Statutes against Usury. It was called taking up commo- 
 dities, and is often noticed in our ancient writers. See several 
 instances in the Notes of Mr. Steevens and Dr. Farmer to 
 Measure for Measure, A. 4. S. 4. — Reed.
 
 86 THE WHITE devil: or, 
 
 That share with scriveners for their good reportage ; 
 For lawyers tliat will antedate their v/rits : 
 And some divines you might find folded there, 
 But that I slip them o'er for conscience' sake. 
 Here is a general catalogue of knaves : 
 A man might study all the prisons o'er, 
 Yet never attain this knowledge. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Murderers? 
 Fold down the leaf, I pray : 
 Good, ray lord, let me borrow this strange doctrine. 
 
 Mont. Pray, use't, my lord. 
 
 Fran, de Med. I do assure your lordship. 
 You are a worthy member of the state, 
 And have done infinite good in your discovery 
 Of these offenders. 
 
 Mont. Somewhat, sir. 
 
 Fran, de Med. O God! 
 Better than tribute of wolves paid in England ;* 
 'Twill hang their skins o'th' hedge. 
 
 Mont. I must make bold 
 
 * Better than tribute, &c,] This tribute was imposed on the 
 Welsh by King Edgar, in order that the nation might be freed 
 from these ravenous and destructive beasts. Drayton, in Poly- 
 ollnou, Song 9th, says : 
 
 " Thrice famous Saxon King, on whom time ne'er shall prey, 
 " O Edgar ! who compeldst our Ludwal hence to pay 
 " Three hundred wolves a year for tribute unto thee : 
 " And for that tribute paid, as famous may'st thou be, 
 " O conquer'd British king, by whom was first destroy'd 
 " The multitude of wolves, that lung this land anuoy'd." —
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 87 
 
 To leave your lordship. 
 
 Fhan. de Med. Dearly,* sir, I thank you: 
 If any ask for me at court, report 
 You have left me in the company of knaves. 
 
 [Exit Monticetso. 
 I gather now by this, some cunning fellow 
 That's my lord's officer, onef that lately skipp'd 
 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, 
 Soto make prize of these. And thus it happens: 
 Your poor rogues pay for't which have not the || means 
 To present bribe in fist; the rest o'th' band 
 Are raz'd out of the knaves' record; or else 
 My lord he winks at them with easy will ; 
 His man grows rich, the knaves are the knaves still. 
 But to the use I'll make of it ; it shall serve 
 To point me out a list IT of murderers, 
 Agents for any villainy. Did I want 
 Ten leash of courtezans, it would furnish me ; 
 Nay, laundress three armies. That in so little paper 
 
 * Dearly'} The 4to. of 1631, " dear." 
 f ojie'] Some copies of the 4to. of 1612, " and," 
 X justice'] The 4to. of 1631, " juUice's." 
 § wmt were] The 4to. of 1631, " were wont." 
 [| the'\ Omitted in the 4to. of 1631. 
 
 •{[ Hit'] Some copies of the 4to. of 1612, " /i/i"— perhaps a 
 misprint for "Jile."
 
 THE WHITE devil: OR, 
 
 Should lie th' undoing of so many men !* 
 
 'Tis not so big as twenty declarations. 
 
 See the corrupted use some make of books : 
 
 Divinity, 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 melancholick thought I'll frame 
 
 Enter Isabella's ghost. 
 Her figure 'fore me. Now I ha't — how strong I 
 Imagination works ! how she can frame 
 Things which are not! metluuks she stands afore me, 
 And by the quick idea of my mind, 
 Were my skill pregnant, I could draw her picture. 
 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 
 
 * That in so little paper 
 
 Should lie th' undoing uf so maiiy meii] Some copies of the 4to. 
 of 1612; 
 
 " That so little paper 
 Should be th' undoing of so many men." 
 t Cair\ Some copies of the 4to. of 1612, " Look." 
 t Now 1 ha'l— how strong] Some copies of the 4to. of 1612, 
 
 " Now I — d'j'oot how strong," 
 and the 4to. of 1631, ' hav\." 
 
 § yet] Omitted in the two earliest 4tos., and first inserted in 
 that of 1665.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 89 
 
 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 vill 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 ! 
 
 I am so us'd to frequent flattery. 
 
 That, being alone, I now flatter myself: 
 
 But it will serve; 'tis seal'd. Bear this 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 To th' 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 shalloAv ; 
 When a man's head goes through, each limb will 
 
 follow. 
 Tlie engine for my business, bold count Lodowick ; 
 'Tis gold must such an instrument procure, 
 With empty fist no man dothf falcons lure. 
 Brachiano, I am now fit for thy encounter : 
 
 * convertites'] See note t, p. 71. 
 t doth] the 4to. of 1631, "do."
 
 90 THE WHITE devil: or, 
 
 Like tl'.e wild Irish, I'll ne'er think thee dead 
 Till I can play at football with thy head. 
 Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta niovebo* [Exit. 
 Enter the Matron, and Flamineo. 
 
 Matron'. Should it be known the duke hath such 
 recourse 
 To your imprison'd sister, I were like 
 T' incur much damage by it. 
 
 Flam. Not a scruple. 
 The Pope lies on his death-bed, and their heads 
 Are troubled now with other business 
 Than guarding of a lady. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Servakt. 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. 
 
 Matron. I shall, sir. 
 
 Enter Brachiano. 
 
 Servant. With all care and secresy ; 
 Hereafter you shall know me, and receive 
 Thanks for this courtesy. {^Exit. 
 
 Flam. How nov/? whal'sthat? 
 
 Matron. A letter. 
 
 Flam. To my sister? I'll see't deliver'd. 
 
 Brack. What's that you read, Flamineo ? 
 
 Flam. Look. 
 
 Brack. Ha! To the most unfortunate, his best 
 respected Vittoria. 
 
 • Flectere, 6ic.] Virgil, A'n. vii. 812.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 91 
 
 Who was the messenger ? 
 
 Flam. I know not. 
 
 Brach. No! who sent it? 
 
 Flam. Ud'sfoot ! you speak, as if a man 
 Should know what fowl is coffin'd in a bak'd meat 
 Afore you cut it up. 
 
 Brach. I'll opeii't, were't her heart. What's 
 here subscrib'd ! 
 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 long'd to gather. 
 Wanting supporters, now should fade and ivilher. 
 (Wine,i'faith, my lord, with lees would serve his turn.) 
 Your sad imprisonment I'll soon uncharm, 
 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 coninnces ; 
 The gods never wax old, no more do princes. 
 A pox on't, tear it ; let's have no more athiests, for 
 God's sake.
 
 92 THE WHITE devil; or, 
 
 Bracii. Ud'sdeatli ! I'll cut her into atomies.* 
 Ami let th' irregular north-wind sweep her up, 
 And blow her int' his nostrils: where's this whore? 
 
 Flam. That what do you call her? 
 
 Brach. O, I could be mad! 
 Prevent the curs'd diseasef she'll bring me to, 
 And tear my hair off. Where's this changeable stuff? 
 
 Flam. O'er head and ears in water, I assure you ; 
 She is not for your wearing. 
 
 Bracii. No, | you pander ? 
 
 Flam. What me, my lord ? am I your dog? 
 
 Brack. A blood-hound: do you brave, do you 
 stand me ? 
 
 Flam. Stand you ! let those that have diseases 
 run ; 
 I need no pi asters. § 
 
 Brack. Would you be kick'd? 
 
 Flam. Would you have your neck broke? 
 I tell you, duke, I am not in Russia ;|| 
 
 * atomies] The 4to. of 1631 " atoines." 
 
 \ the curs'd tZiieuse] One of the consequences of the venereal 
 disease is the coming off of tlie hair. 
 
 J No] Some copies of the 4to. of 1612 ^'■In;" the 4to. of 
 1631 " e'en." 
 
 § The 4to. of 1631 " piaster." 
 
 \\ — 1 am not in Itusna ; 
 My ihins muit be kept whole"] It appears from Giles Fletcher's 
 Rune Comnumwealth, 1591, p. 51, that on deterininiug an action 
 of debt in that country, "the partie convicted is delivered to 
 " the Serjeant, who hath a writte for his warrant out of the 
 ♦' Office, to carry him to the Fraveiah, or Rightjer of Justice, if
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 93 
 
 My shins must be kept whole. 
 
 BuACH. Do you know me ? 
 
 Flam. O my lord, methodically! 
 As in this world there are degrees of evils, 
 So in this world there are degrees of devils. 
 You're a great duke, I your poor secretary. 
 I do look now for a Spanish fig,* or an Italian sallet, 
 daily. 
 
 " presently liee pay not the monie, or content not the partie. 
 " This Pravemh, or llighter, is a place neere to tlie ofBce : 
 " where such as have sentence passed against them, and refuse 
 " to pay that which is adjudged, are beaten with great cudgels 
 " on theshinnes and calves of their legges. Every forenoone from 
 " eight to eleven they are set on the Pruveush, and beate in this 
 " sort till the monie be payd. The afternoone and night time 
 " they are kepte in chaines by the Serjeant : except they put in 
 " sufficient suerties for their appearance at the Piaieiah at the 
 " hower appointed. You shall see fortie or fiftie stand together 
 " on the Praveush all on a rowe, and their shinnes thvs becud- 
 " gelled and bebasted every morning with a piteous crie. If 
 " after a yeare's standing on the Praveush, the partie will not, 
 " or lacke wherewitliall to satisfie his creditour, it is lawfull for 
 " him to sell his wife and children, eyther outright, or for a cer- 
 " taine torme of yeares. And if the price of them doo not 
 " amount to the full payment, the creditour may take them to 
 " hee his bondslaves, for yeares or for ever, according as the 
 " value of the debt requireth." — Reed. 
 So I. Daye ; 
 
 " Let him have Russian law for all his sins, 
 Whatsthat? A 100 blowes on his bare shins." 
 
 The Parliament of Bees, 1641, Sig. G. 2. 
 * a Spanishjig'] Referring to the custom of giving poisoned 
 figs to those who were the objects either of the Spanish or
 
 94 THE WHITE DEVIL : OU, 
 
 Brach. Pander, ply your convoy, and leave your 
 
 prating. 
 Flam. All vour kindness to me, is like that mise- 
 rable courtesy of Polyphemus to Ulysses ; you re- 
 serve mc to be devoured last: you would dig turfs 
 out of my grave to feed your larks ; that would be 
 musick to you. Come, I'll lead you to her. 
 Brack. Do you face me ? 
 
 Flam. 0,t sir, I would not go before a politick 
 enemy with my back towards him, though there were 
 behind me a whirlpool. 
 
 Enter Vittoria Corombona. 
 Bracii. Can you read, mistress ? look upon that 
 
 letter ; 
 There are no characters, nor hieroglyphics. 
 You need no comment, I am grown your receiver. 
 God's precious ! you shall be a brave great lady, 
 A stately and advanced whore. 
 ViT. Cor. Say, sir? 
 
 Brack. Come, come, let's see your cabinet, dis- 
 cover 
 Your treasury of love-letters. Death and furies ! 
 I'll see them all. 
 
 ViT. Cor. Sir, upon my soul, 
 I have not any. Whence was this directed ? 
 
 Brach. Confusion on your politick ignorance! 
 You are reclaim'd, are you ? I'll give you the bells, 
 
 Italian revenge. See Mr. Steevens's Note on King Hettry V. 
 A. 3.S. C— Reeo. 
 
 • 0] Omitted iu some copies of tlit- I to. of 1612.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 95 
 
 And let you fly to the devil. 
 
 Flam. Ware hawk, my lord. 
 
 ViT. Cou. Florence! this is some treacherous 
 plot, my lord ; 
 To me he ne'er was lovely,* I protest, 
 So much as in my sleep. 
 
 Brach. Right! they are plots. 
 Your beauty ! O ten thousand curses on't ! 
 How long have I beheld the deyil in crystal If 
 Thou hast led me, like an heathen sacrifice. 
 With rausick, and with fatal yokes of flowers, 
 To my eternal ruin. Woman to man 
 Is either a god, or a wolf. 
 
 ViT. Cor. My lord. 
 
 Brach. 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 t furnish all the Irish funerals 
 With howhng past wild Irish. 
 
 Flam. Fie, my lord! 
 
 * lovely^ Some copies of the 4to. of 1612, " thnught on." 
 t How long have I beheld the devil in crystaQ The Beril, wLicli 
 is a kind of crystal, hath a weak tincture of red in it. Among 
 other tricks of astrologers, the discovery of past or future events 
 was supposed to be the consequence of looking into it. See 
 Aubrey's Miscellanies, p. 165. edit. 1721. — Reed. 
 S. Rowlands, describing a dabbler in magic, says : 
 " He can transforme himselfe unto an asse, 
 Shew you the Divell in a Christall glasse." 
 The Letting of Humors Blood in the Head-Vaitie, 1611, Sat. 3. 
 t ye'd'] The 4to.of 1631, " We'll."
 
 96 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, 
 
 BiiACii. That hand, that cursed hand, which i 
 have woaried 
 With dealing kisses ! — () my sweetest dutchess. 
 How lovely art thou now! — My* loose thoughts 
 Scatter like quicksilver : I was bewitch'd; 
 For all the world speaks ill of thee. 
 
 ViT. Cor. No matter; 
 ril live so now, I'll make that world recant, 
 And change her speeches. You did name your 
 dutchess. 
 Bracii. Whose death God pardon! 
 ViT. CoK. Whose death God revenge 
 On thee, most godless duke! 
 
 Flam. Now for two f whirlwinds. 
 ViT. CoH. What have I gain'd by thee, but 
 infamy ? 
 Thou hast stain'd 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 shunn'd 
 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. 
 
 * my] The tliree earliest 4tos. " Thy." 
 \ two] Some copies of the 4 to. of 161?, " ten;" the 4to. of 
 1631, " the."
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 97 
 
 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 
 Weeping to heaven on crutches. For your gifts, 
 I will return thera 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. Cor. Yes, I now weep poniards, do you see? 
 
 Brack. Are not those matchless eyes mine? 
 
 ViT. Cor. 1 had rather 
 They were not matchless.* 
 
 Brack, Is not this lip mine? 
 
 ViT. Cor. Yes; thus to bite it off, rather than 
 give it thee. 
 
 Flam. Turn to my lord, good sister. 
 
 ViT. Cor. Hence, you pander! 
 
 Flam. Pander ! am I the author of your sin? 
 
 ViT. CoR. Yes ; he's a base thief that a thief 
 lets in. 
 
 Flam. We're blown up, my lord. 
 
 Brach. Wilt thou hear me? 
 Once to be jealous of thee, is t'express 
 That I will love thee everlastingly, 
 
 * matchkis'] The 4 to. of 1612, " matches." 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 THE WHITE DEVIL : OR, 
 
 And nevermore be jealous. 
 
 ViT. Cor. O thou fool, 
 Whose greatness hath by much o'ergrown thy wit! 
 What dar'st ihou 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! 
 
 Brack. Will you hear me ? 
 
 ViT. CoR. Never. 
 
 Flam. What a damn'd imposthume is a woman's 
 . will! 
 Can nothing break it ? Fie, fie, my lord. 
 Women are caught as you take tortoises. 
 She must be turn'd on her back. — Sister, by this hand 
 lam on your side — Come, come, you have wrong'dher: 
 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 tows'd and sullied ? And yet, sister, 
 How scurvily this forwardness becomes you ! 
 Young leverets stand not long, and women's anger 
 Should, like their flght, procure a little sport; 
 A full cry for a quarter of an hour, 
 And then be put to th' dead quat.f 
 
 Brach. Shall these eyes, 
 Which have so long time dwelt upon your face, 
 
 « wouW] Some copies of the 4to. of 1612, " could." 
 t quat} A corrupt form of squat, — the sitting of a hare.
 
 TITTORIA COROMBOVA. 99 
 
 Be uowput out? 
 
 Fl.^ m. 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. CoR. Hence! 
 
 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. 
 
 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 ;* 
 
 * Is a still water under a great bridge] " Is like a still water 
 under London bridge" was the reading until now [in the editions 
 of Dodsley's Old Plays, 1744 and 178 i :] how or why the word 
 London was foisted in, it is not easy to guess, as both the old 
 copies give the passage as it is now printed. — Collier. 
 
 Dodsley and Reed found the reading, which Mr. Collier 
 Tightly rejected, in the 4t08. of T665 and 1672.
 
 100 THE WHITE DEVIL : OR, 
 
 A man may shoot* her safely. 
 
 ViT. Cor. ye dissembling men ! 
 
 Flam. We suck'd that, sister, 
 From women's breasts, in our first infancy. 
 
 ViT. Cor. To add misery to misery! 
 
 Brack. Sweetest. 
 
 ViT. CoR. Am I not low enough ? 
 Ay, ay, your good heart gathers like a snow-ball, 
 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. CoR. 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 turn'd, the vessel's come about. 
 He's a sweet armful. O, we curl'd-hair'd men 
 Are still most kind to women ! This is well. 
 
 Brach. That you should chide thus! 
 
 Flam. O, sir, your little chimnies 
 Do ever cast most smoke ! I sweat for you. 
 Couple together with as deep a silence, 
 As did the Grecians in their wooden horse. 
 
 • shooti To shout the bridge was a term used by watennen, to 
 signify going through London-bridge at the turning of the tide. 
 The Tessel tlicu went with great velocity, and from thence it 
 probiibly was called ahooUtig. — Reid.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 101 
 
 My lord, supply your promises with deeds; 
 You know that painted meat no hunger feeds. 
 
 Brack. Stay, ingrateful Rome — * 
 
 Flam. Rome! it deserves to be call'd 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 enter'd 
 The conclave, for th' 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 
 For Padua. 
 
 Brack. I'llf instantly steal forth the prince Gio- 
 vanni, 
 And make for Padua. You two with your old mo- 
 ther, 
 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 dutchess' title. 
 
 Flam. Lo you, sister! 
 Stay, my lord ; I'll tell you a tale. The crocodile, 
 which lives in the river Nilus, hath a worm breeds 
 
 * Stay ingrateful Rome — ] I suspect we should read " Stay in 
 ingrateful Rome!" 
 
 t I'll] omitted in the 4to. of 1631.
 
 102 THE WHITE devil; OR, 
 
 i'th' teeth oft, which puts it to extreme anguish : a 
 little 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, closelh her chaps, intending to swallow 
 her, and so put her to perpetual silence. But na- 
 ture, 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.* 
 
 Bkach. Your application is, I have not rewarded 
 The service you have done me. 
 
 Flam. No, my lord. 
 You, sister, are the crocodile : you are blemish 'd in 
 your fame, my lord cures it; and though the com- 
 parison hold not in every particle, yet observe, re- 
 member, what good the bird with the prick i'th' 
 head hath done you, and scorn ingratitude. 
 It may appear to some ridiculous 
 Thus to talk knave and madman, and sometimes 
 Come in with a dried sentence, stuft with sage: 
 
 • This tale is an alteration of a fable told originally by 
 Herodotus, lib. ii. c. 68, that a bird, called trochilus, enters the 
 throat of the crocodile, and extracts the leeches that gather 
 there (or, according to some ancient writers, picks particles of 
 flesh from its teeth) ; and that the grateful crocodile does the 
 bird no injury.
 
 VITTOKIA COROMBONA. 103 
 
 But this allows my varying of shapes ; 
 
 Knaves dp grow great by being great men's apes. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Enter Francisco de Medicis, Lodovico, Gas- 
 pa RO, and six Ambassadors. 
 Fran, de Med. 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. 
 Is knight of Rhodesf ; the next, knight of St, Mi- 
 chaelt ; 
 
 * brave'] i. e. fine. — Reed. 
 
 f That lord i'th' black clmik, mth the silver cross, 
 
 h knight of Rhodes] A Knight of Rhodes was formerly 
 called a Knight of St. John Jerusalem, and now a Knight of 
 Malta. The Order was instituted some time before the con- 
 quest of Jerusalem by the Christians in 1099. Segar says, 
 that " a governor, called Gerardus, commanded that he and all 
 " others of that house should wear o white cross npon a blacke 
 " garment, which was the originall of the Order, and ever since 
 " hath been used." — Honor Military and Civill, fol. 1602, p. 97. 
 
 r Reed. 
 
 t knight of St. Michael] This Order was erected in 1469, 
 by Lewis XI. King of France. See Segar on Honor, p. 83. 
 
 Reed.
 
 104 THE AVHITE devil: OR, 
 
 That, of the Golden Fleece*; the Frenchman, there, 
 Knight of the Holy Ghostf ; my lord of Savoy, 
 Knight of th' Annunciation^; the Englishman 
 Is knight of th' honour'd Garter,§ dedicated 
 Unto their saint, St. George. I could describe to 
 
 you 
 Their several institutions, with the laws 
 Annexed to their orders ; but that time 
 Permits not such discovery. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Where's count Lodowick? 
 
 LoD. Here, my lord. 
 
 Fran, de Mld. 'Tis o'th' point of dinner time; 
 Marshal the cardinals' service. 
 
 Lod. Sir, I shall. 
 Enter Servants, with several dishes covered. 
 Stand, let me search your dish, who's this for? 
 
 Servant. For my lord cardinal Monticelso. 
 
 Lod. Whose this ? 
 
 Sertant. For my lord cardinal of Bourbon. 
 
 * That, of the golden Fleecel Instituted by Philip the Good, 
 Duke of Burgundy and Earl of Flanders, in 1429. See Segar, 
 p. 79. — Reed. 
 
 f Knight of the Holy Ghost'] Instituted by Henry III. King 
 of France and Poland, in the year 1579. See Segar, p. 87. 
 
 Reed. 
 I Knight of th' Aniiunciation'] An Order begun by Amedes 
 Count of Savoy, surnamed II Verde, in memory of Amedes the 
 first Earl, who, having valorously defended the Isle of Rhodes, 
 did win those arms now borne by the Dukes of Savoy. See 
 Segar, p. 85. — Reed. 
 
 § Knight of the honour'd Garter] Founded by King Ed- 
 ward III. — Reed.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 105 
 
 Fr. Amb. Why doth he search the dishes? to 
 observe 
 What meat is drest ? 
 
 Eng. Amb. No, sir, but to prevent 
 Lest any letters should be convey'd in, 
 To bribe or to solicit the advancement 
 Of any cardinal. When first ihey enter, 
 'Tis lawful for the ambassadors of princes 
 To enter with them, and to make their suit 
 For any man their prince aft'ecteth best ; 
 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 viands. 
 
 [J cardinal on the terrace. 
 A Cardinal. You must return the service : the 
 lord cardinals 
 Are busied 'bout electing of the Pope ; 
 They have given o'er scrutiny, and are fallen 
 To admiration. 
 
 LoD. Away, away. 
 
 Fran, de Med. I'll lay a thousand ducats you 
 hear news 
 Of a Pope presently. Hark; sure he's elected : 
 Behold, my lord of Arragon appears 
 On the church battlements. 
 
 Arragon. Denuntio vobis* gaudium magnum: 
 
 * Denuntio vobis, Sec] All the 4tos. except that of 1612, 
 " Annuntio." This was nearly the form io which the electioa 
 of a pope was declared to the people. See Roscoe's Life of Leo
 
 106 THE WHITE DEVIL : OR, 
 
 Reverendissimus cardinalis Lorenzo de Monticelso 
 electus est in sedem apostolicam, et elegit sibi nomen 
 Paulum Quartum. 
 
 Omnes. yivat sanctus paler Paulus Quartus ! 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Servant. Vittoria, my lord — 
 
 Fran, de Med. Well, what of her ? 
 
 Servant. Is fled the city. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Ha ! 
 
 Servant. With duke Brachiano. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Fled ! where's the prince Gio- 
 vanni ? 
 
 Servant. Gone with his father. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Let the matron a of the conver- 
 tites 
 Be apprehended. Fled? O damnable! 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 How fortunate are my wishes! why, 'twas this 
 I only labour'd : I did send the letter 
 T'instrucihim what to do. Thy fame, fond duke, 
 1 first have poison'd ; directed thee the way 
 To marry a whore ; what can be worse ? this follows : 
 The hand must act to drown the passionate tongue, 
 
 the Tenth, vol. ii. p. 166. ed. 1805. Cartwright, I believe, 
 meant to parody this passage of Webster, when he wrote the 
 following ; 
 " Moth. Denuncio vobis gaudium magnum, 
 
 Robertus de Tinea electus est in sedem Hospitalem ; 
 
 Et assumit sibi nomen Galfridi." 
 
 The Ordinary, Act 5. So. 4. (Works, 1651.)
 
 VITTORIA COROMBOKA. 107 
 
 I scorn to wear a sword and prate of v/rong. 
 Enter Monticelso in state. 
 
 Mont. Concedimus vobis apostoUcam benedie- 
 tionem, et remissionem peccatorum.* 
 My lord reports Vittoria Corombona 
 Is stol'n from forth the house of ( onvertites 
 By Brachiano, and they're fled the city. 
 Now, though this be the first day of our state,t 
 We cannot better please the divine power, 
 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. 
 
 [Exetint Monticelso, his train, ^Embassadors, 8i€, 
 
 Fran, de Med. Come, dear Lodovico ; 
 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, de Med. 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 : 
 
 * In some copies of the 4to. of 1612 this benediction is not 
 given. 
 
 t state^ Some copies of the 4to. of 1612, and the 4 to. of 
 1631, " ieat."
 
 108 THE WHITE devil: or, 
 
 Give leave, part of the glory may be mine. 
 
 [Exeunt Fran, de Med. and Gasparo. 
 Enter Monticklso. 
 
 Mont. Why did the duke of Florence with such 
 care 
 Labour your pardon ? say.* 
 
 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,t 
 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 
 
 * Why did the Duke of Florence with such care 
 
 Labour your pardon t say-l In some copies of the 4to. of 1612 
 this forms part of Francisco's speech, but in other copies of that 
 edition, and in the 4to. of 1631, it is rightly given to Monticelso. 
 
 ■f- I ask you'] The two oldest 4tos. give this to Lodovico, but 
 the 4t08. of 1C65 and 1672 assign it to Monticelso, to whom 
 it obviously belongs.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 109 
 
 Which he would fain have brought to the career, 
 The sault, and the ring galHard : 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 ! 
 I know that thou art fashion'd 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 reveal'd. 
 
 Mont. You have o'erta'en me. 
 
 LoD. Sir, 1 did love Brachiano's dutchess dearly, 
 Orrathtr 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. 
 
 * French riderl When this play was written the French ex- 
 celled most nations in horsemanship.
 
 HO TiiK WHITE devil: or, 
 
 Mont. To the duke of Florence? 
 
 LoD. To him I have. 
 
 Mont. Miserable creature ! 
 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 melancholick yew-tree, 
 Dost think to root thyself in dead men's graves, 
 And yet to prosper? Instruction to thee 
 Comes like sweet showers to over-harden'd ground ; 
 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. 
 
 E7iter Servant and Francisco de Medicis. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Do you know that count' 
 
 Servant. Yes, my lord. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Bear him these thousand ducats 
 to his lodging; 
 Tell him the Pope hath sent them. Happily 
 That will confirm more than all the rest. j^Exit. 
 
 Servant. Sir. 
 
 LoD. To me, sir? 
 
 S E rva n t . His HoHness hath sent you a thousand 
 crowns. 
 And wills you, if you travel, to make him 
 Your patron for intelligence.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. Ill 
 
 LoD. His creature ever to be commanded. 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 Why now 'tis come about. He rail'd upon me ; 
 And yet these crowns were told out, and laid ready, 
 Before he knew my voyage. O the art, 
 The modest form of greatness ! that do sit, 
 Like brides at wedding-dinners, with their looks turn'd 
 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 arm'd now. Now to th' act of blood. 
 There's but three furies found in spacious hell, 
 But in a great man's breast three thousand dwell. 
 
 [Exit. 
 A passage over the stage of Br ACiiiAyio, Flamineo, 
 Marcello, Hortensio, Vittoria Corom- 
 BONA, Cornelia, Zanche, arid others: exeunt 
 omnes except Flamineo atid Hortensio. 
 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 conferr'd with him i'th' duke's 
 closet ; 
 I have not seen a goodlier personage, 
 Nor ever talk'd with man better experienc'd 
 In slate affairs, or rudiments of war :
 
 112 THE WHITE devil: ou, 
 
 He hath, by report, serv'd the Venetian 
 
 In Candy these twice seven years, and been chief 
 
 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, contrary to the expectation of all the court, 
 entered into religion, into the strict order of Capu- 
 chins; but, being not well settled in their under- 
 taking, they left their order, and returned to court ; 
 for which, being after troubled in conscience, they 
 vowed their service against the enemies 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 themselves 
 here in a house of Capuchins in Padua. 
 
 HoRT. 'Tis strange. 
 
 Flam. One thing makes it so: they have vowed 
 for ever to wear, next their bare bodies, those coats 
 of mail they served in. 
 
 HouT. Hard penance ! Is the Moor a Christian? 
 
 Flam. He is. 
 
 HoRT. Why proffers he his service to our duke ? 
 
 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 
 
 * uxiri] The 4 to. of 1(531, " war."
 
 VITTORIA COROMEONA. 113 
 
 Wear more command, nor in a lofty phrase 
 Express more knowing, or more deep contempt 
 Of our slight airy courtiers. He talks 
 As if he had travell'd all the princes' courts 
 Of Christendom : in all things strives t' express, 
 That all, that should dispute with him, may know, 
 Glories, like glow-worms,* afar off shine bright, 
 But look'd to near, have neither heat nor light. 
 The duke. 
 
 Enter Brachiano, Francisco de Medicis dzV 
 guised like Mulinassar, Marcello, Lodovico, 
 Antonelli, Gasparo, Farnese, Carlo, and 
 Pedro,! hearing their swords and helmets. 
 Bbach. You are nobly welcome. We have heard 
 at full 
 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 proffer'd bounty. 
 Your wish is, you may leave your warlike swords 
 For monuments in our chapel : I accept it. 
 As a great honour done me, and must crave 
 
 * Glories, like glow-ivorms, (Sfc] This fine simile occurs again 
 verbatim in the Dutchess of Malfi, A. 4. S. 2. 
 
 \ Carlo and Pedro'] In both the earliest 4tos. " Car." and 
 " Fed." are prefixed to the respective speeches of the^e per- 
 sonages in this scene, though their entrance is not marked ; and 
 their names are found at full length afterwards in stage direc- 
 tions. The 4tos. of 1665 and 1072 prefix to the two speeches 
 in question, " Lod." and " Gat." 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 il4 THE VVillTE devil: OR, 
 
 Your leave to furnish out our dulchess' revels. 
 
 Only one thing, as the last vanity 
 
 You e'er shall view, deny me not to stay 
 
 To see a barriers prepar'd to-night: 
 
 You shall have private standings. It hath pleas'd 
 
 The great ambassadors of several princes, 
 
 In their return from Rome to their own countries, 
 
 To grace our marriage, and to honour me 
 
 With such a kind of sport. 
 
 Fran, de Med. I shall persuade them 
 To stay, my lord. 
 
 Brack. Set on there to the presence.* 
 
 [Exeunt Brachiano, Flamineo, Marctllo, and 
 Hortensio. 
 
 Car. Noble my lord, most fortunately welcome ; 
 [The conspirators here embrace. 
 You have our vows, seal'd with the sacrament. 
 To second your attempts. 
 
 Ped. And all things ready ; 
 He could not have invented his own ruin 
 (Had he despair'd) with more propriety. t 
 
 LoD. You would not take my way. 
 
 Fram. de Med. 'Tis better order'd; 
 
 LoD. T' have poison'd his prayer-book, or a pair 
 of beads, 
 The pummel of his saddle,! his looking-glass, 
 Or th' handle of his racket, — O that, that! 
 
 * Set on there to the presencel This evidently belongs to Bra- 
 chiano, though all tlic 4tos. give it to Francisco. 
 
 f propriety'] The 4tos. of 16C5 and 1G72, " dexterity." 
 
 X Thepummtl of' his saddle] This was one of the methods put
 
 VITTORIA COUOMEONA. 115 
 
 That while he had been bandying at tennis, 
 
 He might have sworn himself to hell, and slrook 
 
 His soul into the hazard ! O, my lord, 
 
 I would have our plot be ingenious, 
 
 And have it hereafter recorded for example, 
 
 Rather than borrow example. 
 
 Fran, de Med, There's no way 
 More speeding than this thought on. 
 
 LoD. On* then. 
 
 Fran, de Med. And yet methinks that this 
 revenge is poor, 
 Because it steals upon him like a thief: 
 To have ta'en him by the casque in a pitch'd field. 
 Led him to Florence — 
 
 LoD. It had been rare : and there 
 Have crown'd him with a wreath of stinking garlick ; 
 T' have shown the sharpness of his government. 
 And rankness of his lust.f Flamineo comes, 
 
 \^Fxeunt Lodovico, Antontlli, Gasparo, Farnese, 
 Carlo, and Pedro, 
 Enter Flamineo, Marcello, and Zanche. 
 
 Mar. Why doth this devil haunt you, say ? 
 
 in practice in order to destroy Queen Elizabeth. In the year 
 1598, Edward Squire was convicted of anointing the pummel of 
 the Queen's saddle with poison, for which he was afterwards 
 executed. See Camden's Elizabeth, p. 726. Elz. edit. 1639. — 
 
 Reed. 
 
 * On] The 4to. of 1631, " Oh." 
 
 t And rankness of his lust] After these words, the 4tos. of 
 1665 and 1672 insert " But peace," not found in the two earliest 
 
 4t08.
 
 116 THE WHITE devil: or, 
 
 Flam. I know not •. 
 For by this light, I do not conjure for her. 
 'Tis not so great a cunning as men think, 
 To raise the devil; for licre's one up already; 
 The greatest canning; were to lay him down. 
 
 Mar. She is your shame. 
 
 Flam. I prithee pdidon her. 
 In faith, you see, women are Hke 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 1 had seen 
 Some of your iron days .' I pray relate 
 Some of your service to us. 
 
 Fran, de Med. '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. 
 
 Mar. You're too stoical. The duke will expect 
 other discourse from you. 
 
 Fran de Med. 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 bot- 
 tom of a well, by mere chance. If i were placed as 
 high as the duke, I should stick as fast, make as 
 fair a shew, and bear out weather equally.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 117 
 
 Flam. If this soldier had a patent to beg in 
 churches, then he would tell them stories. 
 
 Mar. I have been a soldier too. 
 
 Fran, de Med. How have you thrived ? 
 
 Mar. Faith, poorly. 
 
 Fran, ue Med. That's the misery of peace : only 
 outsides are then respected. As ships seem very 
 great upon the river, which shew very little upon the 
 seas, so some men i'th' court seem Colossuses in a 
 chamber, who, if they came into the field, would ap- 
 pear pitiful pigmies. 
 
 Flam. Give me a fair room yet hung with arras, 
 and some great cardinal to lug me by th' ears, as his 
 endeared minion. 
 
 Fran, de Med. And thou mayest do the devil 
 knows what villainy. 
 
 Flam. And safely. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Right: you shall see in the 
 country, in harvest-time, pigeons, though they de- 
 stroy never so much corn, the farmer dare not pre- 
 sent 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. 
 
 Flam. I will now give you some politick instruc- 
 tions. The duke says he will give you a* pension ; 
 that's but bare promise ; get it under his hand. For 
 I have known men that have come from serving 
 • a] Omitted in the 4to. of 1612.
 
 118 THE WHITE devil; OR, 
 
 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 shews 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 dogdays. [Exit Francisco de Medicis.'^ 
 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. 
 
 HoRT. What's he? 
 
 Flam. A newup-start; one that swears like a 
 falconer, and will lie in the duke's ear day by day, 
 like a maker of almanacks : and yet I knew him, 
 since he came to th' court, smell worse of sweat than 
 an under tennis-court-keeper. 
 
 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 
 turning upon me, and pulling out my throat, I would 
 let her go to the devil. 
 
 * The 4tos. do not mark the Exit of Francisco ; but it is ne- 
 cessary to get rid of him, as he enters towards the end of this 
 Bceue.
 
 VITTOai A COROMBONA. 119 
 
 HoRT. 1 hear she cluims marriiige of thee. 
 
 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 yet dares not look behind him. Now, 
 my precious gipsey. 
 
 Zanciie. Ay, your love to rae 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 sattin cannot save them : I am 
 confident 
 They have a certain spice of the disease; 
 For they that sleep with dogs shall rise with fleas. 
 
 Zanche. Believe it, a little painting and gay 
 clothes make you love* me. 
 
 Flam. How, love a lady for painting or gay ap- 
 parel? I'll unkennel one example more for thee, 
 ^sop had a foolish dog that let go the flesh to 
 catch the shadow ; I would have courtiers be better 
 divers. 
 
 Zanche, You remember your oaths ? 
 
 Flam. Lovers' oaths are like mariners' prayers, 
 uttered in extremity ; but when the tempest is o'er, 
 and that the vessel leaves tumbling, they fall from 
 
 * love'] The tbree earliest 4tos. " loath."
 
 120 THE WHITE devil: or, 
 
 protesting to drinking-. And yet, amongst gentle- 
 men, protesting and drinking go together, and agree as 
 well as shoe-makers and Westphalia bacon ; they are 
 both drawers on ; for drink draws on protestation, 
 and protestation draws on more drink. Is not this 
 discourse better now than the morality* of your sun- 
 burnt gentleman ? 
 
 Enter Cornelia. 
 
 Cor. Is this your perch, you haggard? fly to th' 
 stews. 
 
 Flam. You should be clapt by th' heels now : 
 strike i'th' court ! [Exit Cornelia.^ 
 
 Zanche. She's good for nothing, but to make her 
 maids 
 Catch cold a-nights: they dare not use a bed-stafl', 
 For fear of her light fingers. 
 
 Mar. You're a strumpet, 
 An impudent one. 
 
 Fla.m. Why do you kick her, say ? 
 Do you think that she's like a walnut tree ? 
 Must she be cudgell'd ere she bear good fruit ? 
 
 Mar. She brags that you shall marry her. 
 
 Flam. What then? 
 
 • moTalily'] The three earliest 4tos. mortality. 
 f The Exit of Cornelia is not noted in the 4t03. ; but it is 
 evident from what she says at p. 123 that she is not on the 
 stage during the deadly quarrel of her sons ; 
 
 " 1 hear a whispering all about the court 
 You are to fight : w/io is your oppositel 
 IVhat it tlie quarrel V
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 121 
 
 Mar. I had rather she were pitch'd upon a stake, 
 Tn some new-seeded garden, to affright 
 Her fellow crows thence. 
 
 Flam. You're a boy, a fool ; 
 Be 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 
 This folly from you. 
 
 Flam. Are you cholerick ? 
 I'll purge't with rhubarb. 
 
 Hort. O, your brother! 
 
 Flam. Hang him, 
 He wrongs me most, that ought t'ofFend me least : 
 I do suspect my mother play'd foul play, 
 When she conceiv'd thee. 
 
 Mar. Now, by all my hopes. 
 Like the two slaughter'd sons of Oedipus, 
 The very flames of our affection 
 Shall turn two* ways. Those words 1*11 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. 
 
 • two] The 4to. of 1612, " 10"— [ten]— a misprint 
 " __________ flarnma — ^^- 
 
 Scinditur ia partes, gemmiique cacumine surgit 
 Thebanos iniitata rogos." Lucani Plutr. i. 550.
 
 122 THK WHITE ni;\ il; or, 
 
 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 Young Lord, Marcello, Ilortensio, 
 and two more. 
 
 Zanche. He comes. Hence petty thought of my 
 disgrace ! 
 
 Enler Francisco de Medicis. 
 I ne'er lov'd my complexion till now, 
 'Cause I may boldly say, without a blush, 
 I love you. 
 
 Fran, de Med. 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. 
 
 Zanchk. Alas ! poor maids get more lovers than 
 husbands: yet you may mistake my wealth. For, 
 as when ambassadors are sent to congratulate princes, 
 there's commonly sent along with them a rich pre- 
 sent, so that, though the prince like not the ambas- 
 sador's person, nor words, yet he likes well of the 
 presentment; so I may come to you in the same 
 manner, and be better loved for my dowyy than my 
 virtue. ' 
 
 Fran, de Med. I'll think on the motion. 
 
 Zanche. Do; I'll now 
 Detain you no longer. At your better leisure 
 I'll tell you things shall startle your blood : 
 Nor blame me that this passion I reveal ;
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 123 
 
 Lovers die inward that their flames conceal. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Of all intelligence this may 
 prove the best : 
 Sure I shall draw strange fowl from this foul nest. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Enter Marcello ajid 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 ray father's? 
 Cor. Yes. 
 
 Mar. I have heard you say, giving my brother 
 suck, 
 He took the crucifix between his hands, 
 
 Enter Flamineo. 
 And broke a limb 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.
 
 124 THE WHITE DLVIL 
 
 Cou. Help ! O he's murder'd! 
 
 Flam. Do you turn your gall up? 1*11 to sanctuary, 
 And send a surgeon to you. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Carlo, Hortensio, and Pedro. 
 
 HoKT. How ! o'th' ground ! 
 
 Mar. O mother, now remember what I told 
 Of breaking of the crucifix ! Farewell. 
 There are some sins, which heaven doth duly punish 
 In a whole family. This it is to rise 
 By all dishonest means ! Let all men know, 
 That tree shall long time keep a steady foot, 
 Whose branches spread no wilder* than tlie root. 
 
 [Dies. 
 
 Cor. O my perpetual sorrow! 
 
 Hoar. Virtuous Marcello! 
 He's dead. Pray leave him, lady : come, you 
 st.all. 
 
 Cor. Alas ! he is not dead ; he's in a trance. 
 Why hero's nobody shall get any thing by his death. 
 Let me call him again, for God's sake ! 
 
 Car. I would you were deceived. 
 
 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 bleed- 
 ing inward will kill him. 
 
 HoRT. You see he is departed. 
 
 CoR. Let me come to him ; give me him as he is ; 
 
 • wildtr'\ The 4to. of 1C72, " wider."
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 125 
 
 if he be turned to earth, let rae but give him one 
 hearty kiss, and you shall put us both into one coffin. 
 Fetch a 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 yovi lose him for a 
 little pains-taking ? 
 
 HoRT. Your kindest office 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 Bracuiano all armed, save the beaver, with 
 Flamineo, Francisco de Medicis, Lodo- 
 vico, a7^d Page. 
 
 Bracii. Was this your handy work ? 
 
 Flam. It was my misfortune. 
 
 Cor. He lies, he lies ! he did not kill him : these 
 have killed him, that would not let him be better 
 looked to. 
 
 Brach. Have comfort, ray griev'd mother. 
 
 Cor. O youf screech owl ! 
 
 HoRT. Forbear good madam. 
 
 * Fetch a looking-glass, ^*c.] So, Shakespeare in King Lear, 
 A. 5. S. 3 : 
 
 " — Lend me a looking-glass ; 
 " If that her breath will mist or stain the stone 
 " Why, then she lives. 
 " This feather uirs ; she lives! if it be so, 
 " It is a chance that does redeem all sorrovvS 
 " That ever I have felt." — Reed. 
 t yoit] The 4tos. of 1G65 and 1G72, " yon."
 
 126 THE WHITE DEVIL : OR, 
 
 Con. Let me go, let me go. 
 
 [She runs to Flamineo with her kvife drawn, 
 and corning to him lets it fall. 
 The God of heaven forgive thee ! Dost not wonder 
 I pray for thee ? I'll tell thee what's ihe reason : 
 I have scarce breath to number twenty minutes; 
 I'd not spend that in cursing. Fare thee well : 
 Half of thyself lies there ; and may'st thou live 
 To fill an hour-glass with his moulder'd ashes, 
 To tell how thou should'st spend the time to come 
 In blest repentance! 
 
 Bracii. Mother, pray tell me 
 How came he by his death ? what was the quarrel? 
 
 CoR. Indeed, my younger boy presum'd 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 graz'd already ; it were vain 
 T'lose this for that will ne'er be found again. 
 
 Baicii. Go, bear the body to Cornelia's lodging: 
 And we command that none acquaint our dutchess 
 With this sad accident. For you, Flamineo, 
 Hark you; 1 will not grant your pardon. 
 
 Flam. No? 
 
 BuACii. Only a lease of your life; and that shall last 
 But for one day: thou shalt be forc'd each evening
 
 VITTOUIA COROMBONA, 127 
 
 To renew it, or be hang'd. 
 Flam, At your pleasure. 
 
 [Lodovico sprinkles Brachiano's beaver with a 
 poison. 
 Your will is law now, I'll not meddle with it. 
 
 Bracii. You once did brave me in your sister's 
 lodarins: ; 
 I'll now keep you in awe for't. Where's our beaver? 
 Fran, de Med. He calls for liis destruction. 
 Noble youth, 
 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 pardon'd murther. 
 
 [Eiejint. 
 Charges and shouts. They fight at barriers * 
 first single pairs, then three to three. 
 Enter Buachiano, Vittoria Corombona, Gio- 
 vanni, Francisco de Medicis, 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 ? 
 Bracii. O, my brain's on fire ! 
 
 * harriers] " Barriers cometh of the Frencli word Barres, 
 " and signifieth with us that which the Frenchmen call Jew di 
 " Barres, a martial sport or exercise of men armed, and fighting 
 " together with short swords within certain Barres or lists, 
 " wherdby they are separated from the spectators." — Cowel'a 
 Interpreter, ed. 1701.
 
 128 THE WHITE devil: or, 
 
 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. 
 
 ViT.'CoR. O, my lov'd lord ! poison'd ! 
 
 Flam. Remove the bar. Here's unfortunate 
 revels ! 
 Call the physicians. 
 
 Enter two Physicians. 
 A plague upon you ! 
 
 We have too much of your cunning here already: 
 I fear the ambassadors are likewise poison'd. 
 
 Brach. O, I am gone already ! the infection 
 Flies to the brain and heart. O thou strong heart ! 
 There's such a covenant 'tween the world and it. 
 They're loath to break. 
 
 Giov. O my most loved father! 
 
 Brach. Remove the boy away, 
 Where's this good woman ? Had I infinite worlds, 
 They were too little for thee : must T leave thee ? 
 What say you, screech-owls, is the venom mortal ? 
 
 Phys. Most deadly. 
 
 Brach. Most corrupted politick hangman. 
 You kill without book ; but your art to save 
 Fails you ao oft as great men's needy friends. 
 I that have given life to offending slaves, 
 And wretched murderers, have I not power 
 To lengthen mine own a twelre-month ?
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 129 
 
 Do not kiss me, for I shall pfiison thee. 
 
 This unction is sent from the great duke of Florence. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Sir, be of comfort. 
 
 Bracu. O thou soft natural death, that art* 
 joint-twin 
 To sweetest slumber ! no rough-bearded comet 
 Stares on thy mild departure ; the dull owl 
 Beats not against thy casement ; the hoarse wolf 
 Scents not thy carrion : pity winds thy corse, 
 Whilst horror waits on princes'. 
 
 ViT. Cor. I am lost for ever. 
 
 Bracu. How miserable a thing it is to die 
 
 Inter LoDOVico and Gasparo, in the habit of 
 Capuchins. 
 'Mongst women howling ! what are those ? 
 
 Flam. Franciscans : 
 They have brought the extreme unction. 
 
 Bracu. On paii of death, let no man name death 
 to me : 
 It is a word infinitely terrible. 
 Withdraw into our cabinet. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Francisco de Medicis, and 
 Flamineo. 
 
 Flam. To see what solitariness is about dying 
 princes ! as heretofore they have unpeopled towns, 
 divorced friends, and made great houses unhospltable, 
 so now, O justice! where are their fla terers now? 
 
 • art] The4to. of 1631, " are." 
 VOL. 1. K
 
 130 THE WHITE DEVIL : OR, 
 
 flatterers are but the shadows of princes' bodies ; the 
 least thick cloud makes them invisible. 
 
 Fran, de Med, 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 step- 
 mothers' graves.* 
 
 Fran, de Med. How mean you ? 
 
 Flam. Why, they dissemble; as some men do 
 that live within compass o'th' verge. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Come, you have thrived well 
 under him. 
 
 Flam. 'Failh, like a wolf in a woman's breast;! 
 I have been fed with poultry : but for money, under- 
 stand 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, de Med. What didst thou think of him ? 
 'faith, speak freely. 
 
 Flam. He was a kind of statesman, that would 
 sooner have reckoned how many cannon-bullets he 
 had discharged against a town, to count his expence 
 that way, than how many of his valiant and de- 
 serving subjects he lost before it. 
 
 Fran, de Med. O, speak well of the duke! 
 
 * graves] The 4to. of 1631," grave." 
 f like a wolf' in a woman's breast] The extraordinary cravings 
 of women during their pregnancy, were anciently accounted 
 for, by supposing some voracious animal to be within them. 
 
 Ste»:vens.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. ]31 
 
 Flam. I have done. 
 
 Enter Lodovico. 
 Wilt hear some of my court-wisdom ? To reprehend 
 princes is dangerous ; and to over-commend some of 
 them is palpable lying. 
 
 Fran, de Med. How is it with the duke ? 
 
 LoD. Most deadly ill. 
 He's fall'n into a strange distraction : 
 He talks of battles and monoplies, 
 Levying of taxes ; and from that descends 
 To the most brain-sick language. His mind fastens 
 On 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. 
 He hath conferr'd 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, de Med. See, here he comes. 
 Ew/er Brachiano, presented in a 6ed, Vittoria 
 
 Corombona, Gasparo, and Attendants. 
 There's death in's face already. 
 
 ViT. Cor. O my good lord! 
 
 Brach. Away, you have abus'd me : 
 
 [ These speeches are several kinds of distractiuns, 
 and in the action should appear so.* 
 I ou have convey'd coin forth our territories, 
 'ought and sold offices, oppress'd the poor, 
 
 * The 4to. of 1631 omits this stage-direction.
 
 132 THE WHITE devil: OR, 
 
 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: 
 For did you ever hear the dusky raven 
 Chide blackness? or was't ever known the devil 
 Rail'd against cloven creatures ? 
 ViT. Cor. 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 ! 
 ril forswear hunting, and turn dog-killer. 
 Rare! I'll be friends with him ; for, mark you, sir, 
 
 one dog 
 Still sets another abarking. Peace, peace ! 
 Yonder's a fine slave come in now. 
 Flam. Where? 
 Brach. Why, there, 
 In a blue 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 devil ; 
 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.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 133 
 
 ViT. Cor. My lord, here's nolhina:. 
 Brach. Nothing! rare! nothing! when I want 
 money, 
 Our treasury is empty, there is nothing: 
 I'll not be us'd thus. 
 
 Vn. Cor. O, lie still, my lord! 
 BraC'h. See, see Flaminto, that kill'd 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 lawyer, 
 In a gown whipt with velvet, stares and gapes 
 When the money will fall. How the rogue cuts capers! 
 It should have been in a halter. ' ["is there ; what's 
 she? 
 Flam. Vittoria, my lord. 
 
 Bkach. Ha, ha, ha! her hair is sprinkl'd with 
 arras powder,* 
 That makes her look as if she had sinn'd in the pastry. 
 What's he? 
 
 Flam. A divine, my lord. 
 
 [Brachiano seems here near his end ; Lodovico 
 and Gasparo, in the habit of Capuchins, 
 present him in his bed with a crucifix and 
 hallowed candle. 
 
 * arras powdei'\ So our author in the Dutcheis of Mulfi: 
 " When I wax gray, I shall have all the court 
 Powder their hair with arras, to be like me." — A. III. S. 2. 
 There may have been a hair- powder so called from Arras in 
 France, but 1 do not remember to have found it mentioned 
 by any writer. Qy. ought we to read " orris 1"
 
 134 THE WHITE DliVlL : UR, 
 
 Bracii. He will be drunk; avoid him : th' argument 
 Is leariul, when churchmen stagger in't. 
 Look you, six grey rats* tiiat have lost their tails 
 Grawl up the pillow ; send for a rat-catcher : 
 I'll do a miracle, I'll free the court 
 From all foul vermin. Where's Flamiiieo? 
 
 Fla. 1 do not like that he names nie so often. 
 Especially on's death-bed ; 'tis a sign 
 I shall not live long. See, he's near his end. 
 
 LoD. Pray, give us leave, Attemie, domine Bra- 
 chiane. 
 
 Flam. See, see how firmly he doth fix his eye 
 Upon the crucifix. 
 
 ViT. CoR. O hold it constant ! 
 It settles his wild spirits ; and so his eyes 
 Melt into tears. 
 
 LoD. Domine Brachiane, solebas in btllo tutus esse 
 tuo clypeo ; nunc liunc clypeum hosti tno opponas in- 
 fernali. [By the crucifix. 
 
 Gas. Olim hasta valuisti in bello ; nunc hanc sa- 
 cravi liustam viirahis contra hostem aniniarum. 
 
 [ By the hallowed taper. 
 LoD. Atlende, domine Brachiane, t>i nunc quoque 
 probas ea, qua: acta sunt inter nos, fiecle caput in 
 dextrum. 
 
 Gas. Esto securus, domine Bracliiaiie ; cogita, 
 quantum habeas vieritorum ; denique niemineris meam 
 animam pro tud oppignoratam si quid esset periculi. 
 
 • rats] The 4to. of 163 1, " cats."
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 13 
 
 Lon. Si nunc quoque probas ea, qnce ortu sunt 
 inter nos, flecte caput in Icevum. 
 He is departing ; pray stand all apart, 
 And let us only whisper m his ears 
 Some private meditations, which our order 
 Permits you not to hear. 
 
 [Here, the rest hebig departed, Lodovico and 
 Gasparo discover themselves. 
 
 Gas. Brachiaiio. 
 
 LoD. Devil Brachiano, thou art damn'd. 
 
 Gas. Perpetually. 
 
 LoD. A slave condemn'd, and given up to the 
 gallows, 
 Is thy great lord and master. 
 
 Gas. True; for thou 
 Art given up to the devil. 
 
 LoD. O, you slave I 
 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 poison'd. 
 
 Gas. That had your villainous sallets. 
 
 LoD. And fine embroider'd bottles, and perfumes. 
 Equally mortal v/ith a winter plague. 
 
 Gas. Now there's mercury — 
 
 LoD, And copperas — 
 
 Gas. And quicksilver —
 
 136 THE wiiiTiv devil; or, 
 
 Loi>, With other devilish 'pothecary* stuff, 
 A melting in your politick brains : dost hear? 
 
 Gas. This is count Loilovico. 
 
 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. 
 
 Brach. Vittorial 
 Vittoria ! 
 
 LoD. O, the cursed devil 
 Coniesf to himself again ! we are undone. 
 
 Gas. Strangle him in private. 
 Enter Vittoria Coro.::bona, Francisco de Me- 
 
 Dicis, Fla MINED, and Attendants. 
 What! will you call him again 
 To live in treble torments ? for tharity, 
 For christian charity, avoid the chamber. 
 
 \^Exeuut Fiiloria Corombuna, Francisco de 
 Medicis, Flamineo, mid Aliendants. 
 
 LoD. You would prate, sir? This is a true-love-knot 
 Sent from the duke of Florence. 
 
 [Brachianu is strangled. 
 
 Gas. What, is it done? 
 
 LoD. The snufF is out. No woman -keeper i'th' 
 world, 
 
 * 'polhecui-y^ The 4to. of 1G3I, " apnthncary." 
 t comes] The 4to. of 1612, " come."
 
 VITTOKIA COROMBONA. 137 
 
 Thougli she had practis'd seven year at the pest- 
 house, 
 Could have done't quaintlier. My lords, he's dead. 
 Elder Vittoria Corombona, Francisco de 
 
 Medicis, Flamineo, and Attendants. 
 Omnes. Rest to his soul ! 
 
 ViT. CoR. O me! this place is hell. \_Exit. 
 
 Fran, de Med. How heavily she takes it ! 
 Flam. O, yes, yes ; 
 Had women navigable rivers in their eyes, 
 They would dispend them all: surely, I wonder 
 Why we should wish more rivers to the city, 
 When they sell w.iter so good cheap. t 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 curs'd. 
 For while you live, he that scores best, pays worst. 
 Fran, de Med. Sure, this was Florence' doing. 
 Flam. Very likely. 
 Those are found weighty strokes which come from 
 
 th' hand, 
 But those are killing strokes which come from th'head. 
 O, the rare tricks of a Machiavelian ! 
 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', 
 
 * good cheap] Answers to the French 6, ban marche : cheap is 
 an old word for market.
 
 138 THE WHITE UKVIL : OR, 
 
 As if you liad swallovv'd down a pound of saffron. 
 You see the feat, 'tis praclis'd in a trice ; 
 To teach court honesty, it jumps on ice. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Now have the people liberty to 
 talk, 
 And descant on his vices. 
 
 Flam. Misery of princes, 
 That must of force be censur'd by their slaves ! 
 Not only blam'd for doing things are ill, 
 Butfornot doing all that all men will : 
 One were better be a thresher. 
 Ud'sdeath ! I would fain speak with this duke yet. 
 
 Fran, de Med. 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, 
 Fll speak to him, and shake him by the hand, 
 Though I be blasted. lExit. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Excellent Lodovico! 
 What! did you terrify him at the last gasp? 
 
 LoD. Yes, and so idly, that the duke had like 
 T'have terrified us. 
 
 Fran, de Med. How? 
 
 Enter Zanche. 
 
 Lod. You snail hear that hereafter. 
 See, yon's the infernal, that would make up sport. 
 Now to the revelation of that secret 
 She promis'd when she fell in love with you. 
 
 Fran, de Med. You're passionately met in this 
 sad world.
 
 VITTOUIA COROMEONA. 139 
 
 Zanche. I would 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 concern'd you. 
 LoD. Shall's fall a dreaming? 
 Fran, de Med. Yes, and for fashion sake I'll 
 
 dream with her. 
 Zanche. Methought, sir, you came stealing to my 
 
 bed. 
 Fran, de Med. 'Wiit thou believe me, sweeting? 
 by this light, 
 I was a-dreamt on thee too ; for methought 
 I saw thee naked. 
 
 Zanche. Fie, sir ! as I told you, 
 Methought you lay down by me. 
 Fran, de Med. So dreamt I; 
 And lest thou should'st take cold, I cover'd thee 
 With this Irish mantle. 
 
 Zanche. 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, de Med. Nay, you must hear my dream 
 
 out. 
 Zanche. Well, sir, forth. 
 
 * to't] Some copies of the 4to. of 1612, " to it."
 
 140 THE WHITE DEVIL : OR, 
 
 Fran, de Med. When I threw the mantle o'er 
 thee, thou didst laugh 
 Exceedingly, methought. 
 
 Zanche. Laugh ! 
 
 Fran de. Med. And cried'st out. 
 The hair did tickle thee. 
 
 Zanche. There was a dream indeed ! 
 
 LoD. Mark her, I prithee, she simpers like the suds 
 A collier hath been wash'd in. 
 
 Zanche. Come, sir ; good fortune tends you. I 
 did tell you 
 I would reveal a secret : Isabella, 
 The duke of Florence' sister, was impoison'd 
 By a fum'd picture ; and Caniillo's neck 
 Was broke by damn'd Flamineo, the mischance 
 Laid on a vaulting-horse. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Most strange! 
 
 Zanche. Most true. 
 
 Lod. The bed of snakes is broke. 
 
 Zanche. I sadly do confess, I had a hand 
 In the black deed. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Thou kept'st their counsel. 
 
 Zanche. Right; 
 For which, urg'd with contrition, I intend 
 This night to rob Vitloria. 
 
 LoD. Excellent penitence ! 
 Usurers dream on't while they sleep out sermons. 
 
 Zanche. To further our escape, I have entreated 
 Leave to retire me, till the funeral. 
 Unto a friend i'th' country : that excuse
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 141 
 
 Will further our escape. In coin and jewels 
 I shall at least make good unto your use 
 An hundred thousand crowns. 
 
 Fran, de Med. O, noble wench! 
 LoD. Those crowns we'll share. 
 Zanche. It is a dowry, 
 Methinks, should make that sun-burnt proverb false. 
 And wash the iEthiop white. 
 
 Fran, de Med. It shall, away. 
 Zanche. Be ready for our flight. 
 Fran, de Med. An hour 'fore day. 
 
 l^Exit Zanche. 
 O, strange discovery! why, till now we knew not 
 The circumstance of either of their deaths. 
 Re-enter Zanche. 
 Zanche. You'll wait about midnight in the 
 
 chapel ? 
 Fran, de Med. There. [Exit Zanche. 
 
 LoD. Why, now our action's justified. 
 Fran, de Med. Tush, for justice ! 
 What harms it justice ? we now, like the partridge. 
 Purge the disease with laurel ;* for the fame 
 Shall crown the enterprize, and quit the shame. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 • — we rum, like the partridge, 
 
 Purge the disease with laurel] So Pliny, " Palumbes, gracculi, 
 ** merulae, perdices lanri folio annuum fastidium purgant." — Nat. 
 Hist. lib. viii. c. 27. — Reed.
 
 142 THE WHITE devil: or, 
 
 Enter Flamineo and Gaspaiio, at one door; 
 another tcuy, Giovanni, attended. 
 
 Gas. The young- duke : did you e'er see a sweeter 
 prince ? 
 
 Flam- I have known a poor woman's bastard 
 better favoured : this is behind him; now, to his face, 
 all comparisons were hateful. Wise was the courtly 
 peacock, that, being a great minion, and being com- 
 pared for beauty by some dottrels 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 re- 
 spect of her long tallants :* his will grow out in 
 time. — Mv gracious lord. 
 
 Gio. I pray leave me, sir. 
 
 Flam. Your grace must be merry: 'tis I have 
 cause to mourn ; ^or wot you, what said the little 
 boy that rode behind his father on horseback ? 
 
 Gio. Why, what said he? 
 
 Flam. When you are dead, father, said he, I hope 
 that I shall ride in the saddle. O, 'tis a brave thing 
 
 * iaUnutf\ 'J he 4lo. of 1G31, " talon.^; but the reading of 
 that of 1G12, followed in the text, must not be hastily rejected. 
 By our old poets talon was often written tallatit or tulertt ; so in 
 The Retnrne from FernuMcs, IGOG; 
 
 '' How like thy snout is to great Lucifer's, 
 Such tnlLntt, had he," &c. Sig. G 2. 
 and in INlarniyon's Holland's Leaguer, 1633 ; 
 
 '' Like those that snatch their honour 
 Oui of till- iidtni!, of the lloniau Eagle." Sig. G 4. 
 and in Shakespeare's Love's iMbimr's Lost; " If a £a/en£ be a claw, 
 look how he claws him with a talent." — A. IV. S. 2.
 
 ViTTORIA COROMBON A. 143 
 
 for a man to sit by himself! he may stretch himself 
 in the stirrups, look about, and see the whole com- 
 pass of the hemisphere. You're now, my lord, i' th' 
 saddle. 
 
 Gig. Study your prayers, sir, and be penitent : 
 'Twere fit you'd think on what hath former bin ; 
 I have heard grief nam'd the eldest child of sin,* 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Flam. Study my prayers! he threatens me di- 
 vinely! 
 I am falling to pieces already. I care not, though, 
 like Anacharsis, 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 cullisf for the devil. 
 He hath his uncle's villainous look already, 
 
 Enter Courtier. 
 In decirao sexto. — Now, sir, what are you ? 
 
 CouR. It is the pleasure, sir, of the young duke. 
 That you forbear the presence, and all rooms 
 That owe him reverence- 
 
 Flam. So, the wolf and the raven 
 Are very pretty fools when they are young. 
 Is it your office, sir, to keep me out ? 
 
 CouR. So the duke wills. 
 
 Flam. Verily, master courtier, extremity is not to 
 
 * 'Ttverefit you'd think, ^c] In the Dutchess of Malfi, Act V. 
 S. 5. ibis couplet, slightly altered, is given to the Cardinal, 
 f fu»t»] See note on the Dutchess of Malfi, A. II. S. 4.
 
 144 THE WHITE DEVIL : OR, 
 
 be used in all offices : say, that a gentlewoman 
 were taken out of her bed about midnight, and com- 
 mited to Castle Angelo, to the tower yonder, with 
 nothing about her but her smock, would it not shew 
 a cruel part in the gentleman-porter to lay claim to 
 her upper garment, pull it o'er her head and ears, 
 and put her in naked ? 
 
 CouR. Very good : you are merry. [Exit. 
 
 Flam. Doth he make a court-ejectment of me? 
 a flaming fire-brand casts more smoke without a 
 chimney than within 't. I'll smoor* some of them. 
 
 Enter Fiiancisco de Medicis. 
 How now ? thou art sad. 
 
 Fran, be Med. I met even now with the most 
 piteous sight. 
 
 Flam. Thou meet'stf another here, a pitiful 
 Degraded courtier. 
 
 Fran, df, Med. Your reverend mother 
 Is grown a very old woman in two hours. 
 I found them winding of Marcello'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 t'outwear the nights with, that, believe me, 
 I had no eyes to guide me forth tiie room, 
 They were so o'ercharg'd with water. 
 
 Flam. I will see them. 
 
 * imom] i. e. smother, 
 t meet'st'] So the 4to. of 1G72 : the tbree earliest 4toB. 
 " met'it."
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 145 
 
 Fran, de Med. 'Twere much uncharity in you ; 
 for your sight 
 Will add unto their tears. 
 
 Flam. I will see them : 
 They are behind the traverse ;* I'll discover 
 Their superstitious howling. 
 Cornelia, Zanche, and three other ladies disco- 
 vered winding Marcello's corse. A Song. 
 
 CoR. This rosemary is wither'd ; pray, get fresh. 
 I would have these herbs grow up in his grave, 
 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 
 I have kept this twenty year,f and every day 
 Hallow'd it with my prayers ; I did not think 
 He should have wore it. 
 
 Zanche. Look you, who are yonder ? 
 
 Cor. O, reach me the flowers ! 
 
 Zanche. Her ladyship's foolish. 
 
 Woman. Alas, her grief 
 Hath turn'd her child again ! 
 
 Cor. You're very welcome: 
 There's rosemary]: for you, and rue for you, 
 
 [To Flamineo. 
 
 * the traverse'] " Beside tlie principal curtains that hung in 
 the front of the stage, they used others as substitutes for scenes, 
 which were denominated traverses." Maloae's Hist. Ace. of the 
 English Stage, p. 88. ed. Boswell. 
 
 t year'] The 4to. of 1631, " ysars." 
 
 t There's rosemary, &c.] See Note on Hamlet, A. IV. S. 5. — 
 
 SXEEVENS. 
 
 VOL. 1. L
 
 146 THE WHITE DEVIL : OR, 
 
 Heart's-ease for you ; I pray make much of it, 
 I have left more for myself. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Lady, who's this? 
 
 Cor. You are, I take it, the grave-maker. 
 
 Flam. So. 
 
 Zanche. 'Tis Flamineo. 
 
 Cor. Will you make me such a fool ? here's a 
 white hand : 
 Can blood so soon be wash'd out ?* let me see ; 
 When screech-owls croak upon the chimney-tops, 
 And the strange cricket i'th' oven sings and hops. 
 When yellow spots do on your hands appear, 
 Be certain then you of a corse shall hear. 
 Out upon't, how 'tis speckled ! h'as handled a toad 
 
 sure. 
 Cowslip water is good for the memory : 
 Pray, buy me three ounces oft. 
 
 Flam. I would I were from hence. 
 
 CoR. Do you hear, sir? 
 I'll give you a saying which my grand-mother 
 Was wont, when she heard the bell toll, to sing o'er 
 Unto her lute. 
 
 Flam. Do, and you will, do. 
 
 CoR. Call for the robin-red-breast, and the wren,-\- 
 
 • — here's a white hand: 
 
 Can blood so soon be wash'd otttl^ Reed calls this " An imi- 
 tation of Lady Macbeth's sleeping soliloquy." 
 
 t " 1 never saw any thing like this Dirge, except the Ditty 
 which reminds Ferdinand of his drowned father in the Tempest. 
 As that is of the water, watery ; so this is of the earth, earthy.
 
 VITTORTA COROMBONA. 147 
 
 Since oer shady groves they hover, 
 
 [Cornelia doth this in several forms oj" distration. 
 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, 
 To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm. 
 And (when gay tombs are robUd) sustain no harm ; 
 But keep the tvolffar thence, that's foe to men, 
 For with his nails he'll dig them up again. 
 They would not bury him 'cause he died in a quarrel ; 
 But 1 have an answer for them. 
 Let holy church receive him duly, 
 Since he paid the church-tithes truly. 
 His wealth is suram'd, 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 de Medids. 
 
 Both have that intenseness of feeling, which seems to resolve 
 itself into the elements which it contemplates." — C. Lamb. 
 {Spec, of Eng. Dram. Poeti, p. 233 ) Reed charges Webster 
 with imitating part of this dirge from the well-kuown passage 
 in Shakespeare's Cymbeline, A. IV. S. 2. 
 " The ruddock would 
 
 With charitable bill," &c.
 
 148 THE WHITE devil: or, 
 
 This night I'll know the utmost of my fate ; 
 
 I'll be resolv'd what my rich sister means 
 
 T'assign me for my service. I have liv'd 
 
 Riotously ill, like some that live in court, 
 
 And sometimes when my* face was full of smiles, 
 
 Have felt the maze of conscience in my breast. 
 
 Oft gay and honour'd robes those tortures try : 
 
 We think cag'd birds sing, when indeed they cry. 
 
 Ha ! I can stand thee : nearer, nearer yet. 
 
 Enter Brachiano's ghost, in his leather cassock and 
 
 breeches, boots ; a cowl ; a pot of lily-bowers, with 
 
 a skull in't. 
 What a mockery hath death made thee ! thou look'st 
 
 sad. 
 In what place art thou ? in yon starry gallery? 
 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? 
 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 shews 
 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 church-men 
 
 • tny] The 4to. of 1631, " his," — a misprint perhaps for " this."
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 149 
 
 Make us believe dead men hold conference 
 
 With their familiars, and many times 
 
 Will come to bed to them, and eat with them. 
 
 [Exit Ghost. 
 He's gone ; and see, the skull and earth are vanish'd. 
 This is beyond mel.mchoiy. I do dare my fate 
 To do its worst. Now to my sister's lod2:ing, 
 And sum up all the-e horrors : the disgrace 
 The prince threw nn me ; next the piteous sight 
 Of my dead brother; and my mother's dotage; 
 And last this terrible vision : all these 
 Shall wit!) Vittoria's bounty turn to good, 
 Or I will drown this weapon in her blood. [Exit, 
 
 Enter Francisco de Medicis, Lodovico, and 
 
 HORTENSIO. 
 
 LoD. My lord, upon my soul you shall no further ; 
 You have most ridiculously engag'd yourself 
 Too far already. For my part, I have paid 
 All my debts: so, if I should chance to fall, 
 My creditors fall not with me ; and I vow, 
 To quit all in this bold assembly. 
 To the meanest follower. My lord, leave the city. 
 Or I'll forswear the murder. [Exit. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Farewell, Lodovico : 
 If thou dost perish in this glorious act, 
 I'll rear unto thy memory that fame, 
 Shall in the ashes keep alive thy name. [Exit. 
 
 HoR. There's some black deed on foot. 111 pre- 
 sently
 
 150 THE WHITE devil; OR, 
 
 Down to the citadal, and raise some force. 
 These strong court-factions, that do brook no checks, 
 In the career oft break the riders' necks. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Vittoria Corombona with a book in her 
 hand, Zanche ; F i.am I's y.o followi?ig them. 
 Flam. What? are you at your prayers? give o'er. 
 ViT. Cor. How, ruffian ! 
 Flam. I come to you 'bout worldly business : 
 Sit down, sit down : nay, stay, blouze, you may hear 
 
 it: 
 The doors are fast enough. 
 
 ViT. CoR. Ha, are you drunk? 
 Flam. Yes, yes, with wormwood water; you 
 shall taste 
 Some of it presently. 
 
 ViT. Cor. What intends the fury ? 
 Flam. You are my lord's executrix; and I claim 
 Reward for my long service. 
 ViT. Cor. For your service ! 
 Flam. Come, therefore, here is pen and ink, set 
 down 
 What you will give me. 
 
 ViT. CoR. There. [She writes. 
 
 Flam. Ha! have you done already ? 
 'Tis a most short conveyance. 
 
 ViT. CoR. I will read it : 
 I give that portion to thee and no other. 
 Which Cain groan'd under, having slain his brother. 
 Flam. A most courtly patent to beg by.
 
 VITTORIA COUOMBONA. 151 
 
 ViT. CoK. You are a villain ! 
 Flam. Is't come to this? they say, affrights cure 
 agues : 
 Thou hast a devil in thee ; I will try 
 If I can scare hiiu 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. CoR. Sure he's distracted. 
 Zanche. O, he's desperate ! 
 For your own safety give him gentle language. 
 
 [He enters with two case of pistols. 
 Flam. Look, these are better far at a dead lift, 
 Than all your jewel-house. 
 
 ViT. Coil. 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 
 How they will sparkle. 
 
 ViT. CoR. Turn this horror from me! 
 What do you want ? what would you have me do ? 
 Is not all mine yours ? have I any children ? 
 
 Flam. Pray thee, good woman, do not trouble me 
 With this vain wordly business; say your prayers: 
 I made a vow to my deceased lord. 
 Neither yourself nor I should outlive him 
 The numbering of four hours. 
 ViT. CoR. Did he enjoin it? 
 Flam. He did, and 'twas a deadly jealousy, 
 Lest any should enjoy thee after him.
 
 152 THE WHITE devil; or. 
 
 That urg'd him vow me to it. For my death, 
 1 did propound it voluntarily, knowing, 
 If he could not be safe in his own court, 
 Being a great duke, what hope then for us? 
 
 ViT. Cor. This is your melancholy, and despair. 
 Flam. Away: 
 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 a weighty burthen 
 To a public scaffold ? This is my resolve ; 
 I would not live at any man's entreaty, 
 Nor die at any's bidding 
 
 ViT. Cor. Will you hear me? 
 Flam. My life hath done service to other men, 
 My death shall serve mine own turn : make you ready. 
 ViT. Cor. Do you mean to die indeed? 
 Flam. With as much pleasure, 
 As e'er my father gat me. 
 
 ViT. Cor Are the doors lock'd? 
 Zanciie. Yes, madam. 
 
 ViT. Cor. Are you grown an athiest? 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 v/ith gall and stibium ; 
 Yet we carouse it off; — cry out for help ! — 
 
 [To Zanche. 
 Makes us forsake that which was made for man,
 
 VITTORIA CO ROM BON A. 153 
 
 The world, to sink to that was made for devils. 
 Eternal darkness ! 
 Zanche. Help, help! 
 Flam. I'll stop your throat 
 With winter plums. 
 
 ViT. Cor. T 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 
 Of reason, or sound doctrine. 
 
 Zanche. Gentle madam, 
 Seem to consent, only persuade him teach 
 The way to death ; let him die first. 
 
 ViT. CoR. 'Tis good. I apprehend it, 
 To kill one's self is meat that we must take 
 Like pills, not chew't, but quickly sw 'low it; 
 The smart o'th' wound, or weakness of the hand, 
 May else bring treble torments. 
 
 Flam. I have held it 
 A wretched and most miserable life. 
 Which is not able to die. 
 
 ViT. Cor. O, but frailty ! 
 Yet I am now resolv'd ; farewell, affliction ! 
 Behold, Brachiano, I that while you liv'd 
 Did make a flaming altar of my heart 
 To sacrifice unto you, now am ready
 
 154 THE WHITE devil; or, 
 
 To sacrifice heart and all. Farewell, Zanche ! 
 
 Zanche. How, madam! do you think that I'll 
 outlive you ; 
 Especially when my best self, Flamineo, 
 Goes the same voyage ? 
 
 Flam. O, most loved Moor! 
 
 Zanche. Only byall my love let me entreat you; 
 Since it is most necessary one*" of us 
 Do violence on ourselves ; let you or 1 
 Be her sad taster, teach her how to die. 
 
 Flam. Thou dost instruct me nobly; take these 
 pistols, 
 Because my hand is stain'd 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. CoR. and Zanche. Most religiously. 
 
 Flam. Then here's an end of me ; farewell, day- 
 light. 
 And, O contemptible physic ! that dost take 
 So long a study, only to preserve 
 So short a life ; 1 take my leave of thee. 
 
 [SheiDing 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 
 
 • one] The 4to. of 1612, "none."
 
 VITTORIA COUOMBONA. 155 
 
 ridiculous purgatory ! to find Alexander the Great 
 cobbling shoes, Pompey tagging points, and Julius 
 Caesar making hair-buttons ! Hannibal selling black- 
 ing, and Augustus crying garlick ! 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, 
 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. Cor. What are you dropt ? 
 Flam. I am mix'd with earth already : as you are 
 noble, 
 Perform your vows, and bravely follow me. 
 ViT. CoR. Whither? to hell? 
 Zanche. To most assur'd damnation ? 
 ViT. Cor. O, thou most cursed devil ! 
 Zanche. Thou art caught — 
 ViT. Cor. 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 violate ! O that we had such an oath to minis- 
 ter, and to be so well kept in our courts of justice ! 
 ViT. Cor. Think whither thou art going. 
 Zanche. And remember
 
 156 THE WHiTK devil; or, 
 
 What villanies thou hast acted. 
 
 ViT. Cor. This thy death 
 Shall make me like a blazing ominous star : 
 Look up and tremble. 
 
 Flam. O, I am caught with a springe ' 
 
 ViT. Cor. You see the fox comes many limes 
 short home ; 
 'Tis here prov'd true. 
 
 Flam. Kili'd with a couple of braches !* 
 
 ViT. Cor. No fitter offering for the infernal furies, 
 Than one in whom they reign'd while he was living. 
 
 Flam. O, the way's dark and horrid! I cannot 
 see : 
 Shall I have no company ? 
 
 ViT. CoR. 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 is a fire : 
 My liver's parboil'd, like Scotch holly-bread ; 
 There's a plumber laying pipes in my guts, it scalds. 
 Wilt thou outlive me ! 
 
 Zanche. 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. 
 
 * braches^ i. e. Litch-hounds.
 
 VITTOftlA COROMBONA. 157 
 
 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 
 
 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 to the devil for a little pleasure, and a woman 
 makes the bill of sale. That ever man should 
 marry ! For one Hypermnestra* that saved her lord 
 and husband, forty-nine of her sisters cut their hus- 
 bands' throats all in one night. There was a shoal 
 of virtuous horse-leeches ! Here are two other in- 
 struments. 
 Enter Lodovico, Gaspauo, Pedro, and Carlo. 
 ViT. Cur. Help ! help ! 
 
 * one Hypermnestra] Hypermnestra, one of the fifty daughters 
 of Danaus, the son of Belus, brother of ^Egyptus. Her father, 
 being warned by an oracle, that he should be killed by one of 
 his nephews, persuaded his daughters, who were compelled to 
 marry the sons of their uncle, to murder them on the first night. 
 This was executed by every one except Hypermnestra. She 
 preserved her husband Lynceus who afterwards slew Danaus. 
 
 Reel.
 
 158 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, 
 
 Flam. 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. 
 Church-men turn'd revellers ! 
 Carlo. t Isabella! Isabella! 
 LoD. Do you know us now? 
 Flam. Lodovico ! and Gasparo ! 
 
 * A matachin it seems by your drawn swords] " Such a dance 
 was that well known in France and Italy by the name of the 
 dance of fools or Matachins, who were habited in short jackets, 
 with gilt paper helmets, long streamers tied to their shoulders, 
 and bells to their legs. They carried in their hands a sword and 
 buckler, with which they made a clashing noise, and performed 
 various quick and sprightly evolutions." — Douce's lUust. of 
 Shakespeare, vol. ii. p. 435. 
 
 Compare the following passage of a curious old drama ; 
 " Avar. AVhat's this, a Masquel 
 Hind. A Matachin, you'l find it. 
 
 l^Hind stamps with hisj'oot ; then enters Turbo, Latro, S;c. 
 in vizards: gag Avaritio and his men." 
 4n excellent Comedy, called the Prince of Priggs Revels, or the 
 Practises of that grund thief Captain James Hind, S^c. 1658 
 Sig. A 3. 
 
 To some dance like a matachin Middleton alludes when he 
 says; 
 
 " two or three Varlets 
 Came into the house with alt their Rapiers drawn, 
 As if they'd daunce the Sword-dance on the Stage." 
 
 A Chast Mayd in Cheape-side, 1680, SJg. H 3. 
 f Carlo,'] The two earliest 4tos. " Con.," those of 1665 and 
 1672, « Gas."
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 159 
 
 LoD. Yes ; and that Moor the duke gave pen- 
 sion to 
 Was the great duke of Florence. 
 ViT. Cor. O, we are lost ! 
 
 Flam. You shall not take justice from forth 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 wise. 
 Gas. Bind him to the pillar. 
 ViT, CoR. O, your gentle pity ! 
 I have seen a black-bird 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. Cor. 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. 
 LoD, Sirrah, you once did strike me; I'll strike 
 you 
 Untof the centre. 
 
 • would he would kill me] The 4tos. of 1665 and 1672, " he 
 would not hill me!" 
 
 t Uulo] The 4to. of 1612, " into."
 
 160 THE WHITE devil; OR., 
 
 Flam. Thou'lt do it like a hangman, a base 
 hangman, 
 Not like a noble fellow, for thou see'st 
 I cannot strike again. 
 
 LoD. Dost laugh ? 
 
 Flam. Would'st have me die, as I was born, in 
 whining ? 
 
 Gas. Recommend yourself to heaven. 
 
 Flam. No, 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. What dost think on ? 
 
 Flam. Nothing; of nothing: leave thy idle 
 questions. 
 I am i'th' way to study a long silence : 
 To prate were idle. 1 remember nothing. 
 There's nothing of so infinite vexation 
 As man's own thoughts. 
 
 LoD. O, thou glorious strumpet ! 
 Could I divide ihy breath from this pure air 
 When't leaves thy body, I would suck it up. 
 And breathe't upon some dunghill. 
 
 VxT. CoR. You, my death's-man ! 
 Methinks thou dost not look horrid enough. 
 Thou hast too good a face to be a hangman : 
 If thou be, do thy office in right form ; 
 Fall down upon thy knees, and ask forgiveness. 
 
 LoD. O, thou hast been a most prodigious comet !
 
 VITTORIA rOROMBONA. 161 
 
 But I'll cut off your train. Kill the Moor first. 
 
 ViT. Cor. You shall not kill her first; behold my 
 breast : 
 I will be waited on in death; my servant 
 Shall never go before me. 
 
 Gas. Are you so brave? 
 
 ViT. Cor. Yes, I shall welcome death, 
 As princes do some great ambassadors ; 
 I'll meet thy weapon half way, 
 
 LoD. Thou dost tremble : 
 Methinks, fear should dissolve thee into air. 
 
 ViT. CoR. O, thou art deceiv'd, 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. 
 
 Carlo. Thou art my task, black fury, 
 
 Zanche. 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. 
 
 ViT. Cor. 'Twas a manly blow: 
 The next thou giv'st, murder some sucking in- 
 fant ; 
 And then thou wilt be famous. 
 
 Flam. O, what blade is't ? 
 
 VOL. r. ''
 
 162 THE WHITE DEVIL : OR, 
 
 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. Cor. 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, 
 Slie.ought to teach him manhood : fare thee well. 
 Know, many glorious women that are fam'd 
 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. Cor. My soul, like to a ship in a black 
 storm. 
 Is driven, I know not whither. 
 
 Flam. Then cast anchor. 
 Prosperity doth bewitch men, seeming clear; 
 But seas do laugh, shew white, when rocks are near. 
 We cease to grieve, cease to be fortune's slaves. 
 Nay, cease to die by dying. Art thou gone ? 
 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 ; 
 
 * A Toledo, or an English fox I'] Toledo, the capital city of 
 New-Castile, was fonnerly much famed for making of sword- 
 blades. Fox; a cant term for a sword. — Reed.
 
 VITTORIA COROMBONA. 163 
 
 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. CoR. 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, 
 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 
 Candlemasday ; 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, 
 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. a MB. This way, this way ! break ope the 
 doors ! this way ! 
 
 LoD. Ha ! are we betray'd ? 
 Why then let's constantly die all together ; 
 And having finish'd this most noble deed, 
 Defy the worst of fate, not fear to bleed. 
 
 Eng. Amb. Keep back the prince: shoot, shoot. 
 
 LoD. O, I am wounded ! 
 
 * wen] The 4to. of 1612, " man."
 
 164 THE WHITE DEVIL, &c. 
 
 I fear I shall be ta'en. 
 
 Gio. You bloody villains, 
 By what authority have you committed 
 This massacre ? 
 
 LoD. By thine. 
 
 Gio. Mine ! 
 
 LoD. Yes ; thy uncle, 
 Which is a part of thee, enjoin'd us to't : 
 Thou know'st me, I am sure ; 1 am Count Lodowick ; 
 And thy most noble uncle in disguise 
 Was last night in thy court. 
 
 Gio. Ha! 
 
 Carlo. Yes, that Moor 
 Thy father chose his pensioner. 
 
 Gio. He turn'd murderer ! 
 Away with 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, 
 That 1 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 limn'd this night-piece, and it was my best. 
 
 Gio. Remove the bodies. See, my honour'd lord, 
 What use you ought make of their punishment. 
 Let guilty men remember, their black deeds 
 Do lean on crutches made of slender reeds.
 
 Instead of an Epilogue, only this of Martial supplies me ; 
 HcEc fuerint nobis prcemia, si plac.ui. 
 
 For the action of the Play, 'twas generally well, 
 and I dare affirm, with the joint-testimony of some of 
 their own quality (for the true imitation of life, 
 without striving to make nature a monster) the best 
 that ever became them : whereof as I make a general 
 acknowledgment, so in particular I must remember 
 the well-approved industry of my friend Master 
 Perkins,* and confess the worth of his action did 
 crown both the beginning and end. 
 
 * Master P erkbii] RicbardPerkins was an actor of considerable 
 eminence. As the old 4tos. of The White Devil do not give the 
 names of the performers, we cannot determine what part he 
 played in it. He continued to act for many years, chiefly, it ap- 
 pears, at the Cock-pit or Phcenix, where this play was produced. 
 I find the following notices ofhim in Herbert's MSS.apudMalone ; 
 " [about 1G22-3] the names of thechiefe players at the Red Bull, 
 called the players of the Revelles, Robert Lee, Richard Perkings," 
 &c. Hist. Ac. of the English Stage, p. 59. ed. Boswell ; again, 
 " [about 1637,] I disposed of Perkins, Sumner, Sherlock and 
 Turner, to Salisbury Court, and joynd them with the best of that 
 company." lb. p. 240. He was the original performer of Cap- 
 tain Goodlack in Heywood's Fair Maid of the West, of Sir John 
 Belfare in Shirley's Wedding, and of Hanno in Nabbes's Hannibal 
 and Scipio : the last piece, as we learn from the title-page, v.'as 
 played in 1635. When Marlow's Jew of' Malta was revived 
 about 1633, (in which year it was first given to the press) Per-
 
 166 
 
 kina acted Barabas ; see Heywood's Prologue at the Cock-pit 
 on the occasion. According to Wright's Historia Histriouica, 
 after the suppression of the theatres, Perkins and Sumner (who 
 belonged to the same company) " kept house together at 
 Clerkenwell, and were there buried:" they " died some years 
 before the restoration." A copy of verses by Perkins is prefixed 
 to Heywood's Apology for Actors.
 
 DUTCHESS OF MALFI.
 
 Th£ Tragedy of the Butelms of Malfy. As it was Presented 
 privatly, at the Black- Friars ; and publiquely at the Globe, By the 
 King's Maiesties Servants. The yerfect and exact Coppy, with di- 
 verse things Printed, that the length of the Play would not heare in 
 
 the Presentment. Written by John Webster. Hora Si qtiid- 
 
 Candidus Imperii si non his vtere mecum. London: Printed by 
 Nicholas Okes,for John Waterson, and are to be sold at the signe nf 
 the Crowne, in Paules Church-yard, lfi23. 
 
 The Dutchesse of Malfy. A Tragedy. As it was approvedlv 
 well acted at the Black-Friers, By his Majesties Servants the per- 
 fect and exact Copy, with divers thi7tgs Printed, that the length of 
 the Play ivould not benre in the Presentment. Written by John 
 
 Webster. Horat. — .Si quid Candidus Imperii si non his ntere 
 
 mecum. London ; Printed by J, Bawm-th, for J. Benson, and are 
 to be sold at his shop in St. Dunstans Churchyard iti Fleet-street. 
 1640. 
 
 The Dutchess of Malfi was reprinted in 1678, and (newly 
 adapted for representation) in 1708. Theobald's alteration of 
 it, called The Fatal Secret, appeared in 1735. A reprint of the 
 4to. of 1640, " with all its imperfections on its head," is given 
 in the Ancient British Drama. 
 
 The edition of 1623 is by far the most correct of the 4tos. : 
 lines are found in it, which have dropt out from subsequent edi- 
 tions, leaving the different passages where they ought to stand, 
 unintelligible. On collating several copies of this 4to. I have 
 met with one or two various readings of no great importance : 
 see prefatory remarks on The White Devil, p. iii. 
 
 Malone(note on Shakespeare's Timon of Athens, act iii. sc. 3.) 
 is of opinion that the Dutchess of Malji had appeared before 
 1616, supposing that it is the play alluded to in the Prologue 
 (first printed in that year) to Ben Jonson's Every Man in his 
 Humour ;
 
 170 
 
 " To make a child now-swaddled to proceed 
 Man," &c. 
 but Malone ought to have been aware that in all probability the 
 Prologue in question was written when Every Man in hit 
 Humour was first acted, in 1 595 or 1596. Among the MSS. 
 notes of the same commentator in the Bodleian Library, I find 
 the following : " 1 think it is probable that the Dutchest of 
 Malfy was produced about the year 1612, when the White 
 Devil was printed," But enough of such conjectures. We are 
 certain that the Dutchess of Malfi was performed before March, 
 1619, when Burbadge, who originally played Ferdinand, died. 
 
 The story of this play is in the Novelle of Bandello, Part I. 
 N. 26, in Belleforest's translation of Bandello, N. 19. in Pain- 
 ter's Pa/aceofP/easwre, vol. ii. N. 23,ed. Haslewood, in Beard's 
 Theatre of God's Judgments, B. ii. cb. 22. p. 322, ed. 1597, and 
 in Goulart's Histoires Admirablts, vol. i. p. 319, ed. 1620. 
 
 Lope de Vega wrote El Mayordomo de la Duquesa de ATnalJi, 
 1618 : see his Life by Lord Holland, vol. ii. p. 147, od. 1817.
 
 To the Right Honourable 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 prac- 
 tice owe to your honour their clearest service. I do 
 not altogether look up at your tide ; the ancien'st 
 nobility being but a relick of time past, and the truest 
 
 * George Harding, Baron Berkeleyl This nobleman, the twelfth 
 Lord Berkeley, was the son of Sir Thomas Berkeley, and suc- 
 ceeded his grand-father, Henry, the eleventh Lord Berkeley. 
 He was made Knight of the Bath at the creation of Charles 
 Prince of Wales, November 4th, 1616. He married Elizabeth, 
 second daughter and co-heir of Sir Michael Stanhope of Sudbury 
 in Suifolk, and died 10th of August, 1658. According to the 
 inscription on his monument in Cranford church, Middlesex, he 
 " besides the nobility of his birth, and the experience he ac- 
 quired by foreign travels, was very eminent for the great can- 
 dour and ingenuity of his disposition, his singular bounty and 
 affability towards his inferiors, and his readiness (had it been in 
 his power) to have obliged all mankind." 
 
 This dedication is found only in the 4to. of 1623.
 
 172 
 
 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 cour- 
 tesy 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.
 
 173 
 
 In the just worth of that well-deserver, Mr. John 
 Webster, and upon this master-piece of tragedy. 
 
 In this thou itnitat'st one rich and wise, 
 
 That sees his good deeds done before he dies : 
 
 As he by works, thou by this work of fame 
 
 Hast well provided for thy living name. 
 
 To trust to others' honourings is worth's crime, 
 
 Thy monument is rais'd in thy life-time ; 
 
 And 'tis most just, for every worthy man 
 
 Is his own marble, and his merit can 
 
 Cut him to any figure, and express 
 
 More art than death's cathedral palaces, 
 
 Where royal ashes keep their court. Thy note 
 
 Be ever plainness, 'tis the richest coat : 
 
 Thy epitaph only the title be. 
 
 Write Dutchess, that will fetch a tear for thee ; 
 
 For who e'er saw this Dutchess live and die, 
 
 That could get off under a blee<ling eye. 
 
 In Tragoediam. 
 Ut lux ex tenebris ictu percussa tonantis, 
 Ilia, ruina malis, claris fit vita poetis. 
 Thomas Middletonus,* 
 
 Poeta et Chron. Londinensis. 
 
 * Thomas Middletonus, Poeta et Chron. Londinensis] Of 
 Thomas Middleton, who holds no mean rank among our old 
 dramatists, nothing is known except that he was appointed, in 
 1620, Chronologet to the city of London: he is thought to have 
 died soon after 1626.
 
 174 
 
 To his friend Mr. John Webster, upon his Dutchess 
 of Malji. 
 I never saw thy Dutchess till the day 
 That she was Uvely bodied in thy play : 
 Howe'er she answer'd her low-rated love 
 Her brothers' anger did so fatal prove, 
 Yet my opinion is, she might speak more, 
 But never in her life so well before. 
 
 Wil. Rowley.* 
 
 To the Reader of the Author, and his Dutchess of 
 Ma If. 
 
 Crown him a poet, whom nor Rome nor Greece 
 
 Transcend in all their's for a masterpiece ; 
 
 In which, whiles words and matter change, and men 
 
 Act one another, he, from whose clear pen 
 
 They all took life, to memory hath lent 
 
 A lasting fame, to raise his monument. 
 
 John Ford.t 
 
 * Wil. Riwley'] See some account of him iu the prefatory 
 remarks to A Cure for a Cuckold. 
 
 f John ForfQ Two modern editions of his plays have ren- 
 dered the name of this great poet familiar to most readers. 
 
 These commendatory verses are given only in the 4to. of 
 1623.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 
 
 Ferdinand, Duke ~j 
 
 of Calabria. j ^* ^- Burbadge, 2. J. Taylor. 
 
 Cardinal, his bro-l „^ 
 
 tljgj. / 1- H.Cundall, 2. R. Robinson. 
 
 Antonio Bologna, ^ 
 
 Steward of the ( 
 
 household to the :'■ ^^- ^''^''^ '■ ^- ^'^^'^^' 
 
 Dutchess. -^ 
 
 Delio, his friend. J. Underwood. 
 Daniel de Bosola, gentleman of the"» , , 
 
 horse to the Dutchess. J ' ^^"^' 
 
 Castruccio. 
 
 Marquis of Pescara. J, Rice. 
 
 Count Malateste. 
 
 roderigo. 
 
 Silvio. T. Pollard. 
 
 Grisolan. 
 
 Doctor. R, Pallant. 
 
 The Several Mad- "I ,t t 1 t tt j jo 
 
 >JN. loolev, J. Underwood, &c. 
 men. J •' 
 
 Children, Pilgrims, Executioners, Officers, Attend- 
 ants, &c. 
 
 * The names of the actors are given from the 4tos. of IGSS 
 and 1640: whoever is desirous of learning all that is known 
 concerning these worthies will find it in Malone^s Hist. Ac, of 
 the English Stage, and Chalmers's Farther Ac. H^c. ed. Boswell.
 
 176 
 
 Dutchess of Malfi. R. Sharpe. 
 
 Cariola, her woman. R. Pallant.* 
 
 Julia, Castruccio's wife, and 1 t rp, 
 
 the Cardinal's mistress. J 
 Old Lady. 
 
 * Pallant, it appears from the two earliest 4tos. played not 
 only the Doctor and Cariola, but also one of the Ofl&cers ; 
 " The Doctor, ^ 
 
 Cariola, V R. Pallant. 
 
 Court OflScers." J 
 From the same authority we learn that N. Tooley performed 
 " Forobosco," but no jiortion of the dialogue of the play, as it 
 now stands, is given to such a character, though he is men- 
 tioned in act ii. sc. 2 ; 
 
 " Ant. Who keeps the key o' th' park-gate 1 
 Rod. Fombosco. 
 
 Ant. Let him bring't presently." 
 This passage shews that he was one of the attendants.
 
 DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 ACT I.- SCENE I. 
 
 Enter Antonio, and Deho. 
 
 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 afixt 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 master-piece, the work of heaven ; 
 Considering duly, that a prince's court 
 Is like a common fountain, whence should flow 
 Pure silver drops in general, but if't chance 
 Some curs'd example poison't near the head. 
 Death and diseases through the whole land spread. 
 And what is't makes this blessed government, 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 But a most provident council, who dare freely 
 Inform him the corruption of the times? 
 Though some o'th' court hold it presumption 
 To instruct princes what they ought to do. 
 It is a noble duty to inform them 
 What they ought to foresee. Here comes Bosola, 
 The only court-gall ; yet I observe his railing 
 Is not for simple love of piety : 
 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 Cardinal and Bosola. 
 
 Bos. I do haunt you still. 
 
 Card. So. 
 
 Bos. I have done you better service than to 
 be slighted thus. Miserable age, where only the 
 reward of doing well, is the doing of it! 
 
 Card. You enforce your merit too much. 
 
 Bos. I fell into the gallies in your service, 
 where, for two years together, I wore two towels 
 instead of a shirt, with a knot on the shoulder, after 
 the fashion of a Roman mantle. Slighted thus! I 
 will thrive some way: black-birds fatten best in hard 
 weather; why not I in these dog-days? 
 
 Card. Would you could become honest! 
 
 Bos. With all your divinity do but direct me 
 the way to it. I have known many travel far for it, 
 and yet return as arrant knaves as they went forth, 
 because they carried themselves always along witk
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 179 
 
 them. [Exit Cardinal.] Are you gone ? Some fel- 
 lows, they say, are possessed 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? 
 
 Bos. He and his brother are like plum-trees that 
 grow crooked over standing-pools ; they are rich, 
 and o'er-laden with fruit, but none but crows, pies, 
 and caterpillars feed on them. Could I be one of 
 their flattering panders, I would hang on their ears 
 like a horseleech, till I were full, and then drop oflT. 
 I pray leave me. Who would rely upon these 
 miserable dependancies, in expectation to be advanced 
 to-morrow? what creature ever fed worse, than 
 hoping Tantalus ? nor ever died any man more fear- 
 fully, 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 
 supportation. 
 
 Delio. Geometry ! 
 
 Bos. Ay, 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 
 
 * dogs, when they have done vs servire] The 4to. of 1623, " dogs 
 and when they have done us service," a word having 
 
 diopt out, or ha^^ing been purposely omitted.
 
 180 TIIF. DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 man's head lies at that man's foot, and so lower and 
 lower. [Exit. 
 
 Del. I knew this fellow seven years in the gallies 
 For a notorious murther; and 'twas thought 
 The Cardinal suborn'd it : he was releas'd 
 By the French general, Gaston de Foix, 
 When he recover'd 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, 
 If too immoderate sleep be truly said 
 To be an inward rust unto the soul, 
 It then doth follow want of action 
 Breeds all black malecontents, and their close 
 
 rearing. 
 Like moths in cloth, do hurt for want of wearing. 
 Enter Ferdinand, Castruccio, Silvio, Ro- 
 DERiGO, Grisolan, and Attendants. 
 
 Delio. The presence 'gins to fill : you promis'd me 
 To make me the partaker of the natures 
 Of some of your great courtiers. 
 
 Ant. The lord cardinal's, 
 And other strangers* that are now in court? 
 I shall : here comes the great Calabrian Duke. 
 
 Ferd. Who took the ring oftenest? 
 
 Sil. Antonio Bologna, my lord. 
 
 Feud. Our sister Dutchess' great master of her 
 household: give him the jewel. When shall we
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 181 
 
 leave this sportive action, and fall to action in- 
 deed ? 
 
 Cast. Methinks, my lord, you should not desire to 
 go to war in person. 
 
 Ferd. Now, for some gravity: wliy, my lord? 
 
 Cast, It is fitting a soldier arise to be a prince, 
 but not necessary a prince descend to be a captain. 
 
 Ferd. No ? 
 
 Cast. No, my lord; he were far better do* it by 
 a deputy. 
 
 Ferd. Why should he not as well sltep, or eat by 
 a deputy ? this might take idle, offensive, and base 
 office from him, whereas the other deprives him of 
 honour. 
 
 Cast. Believe my experience, that realm is never 
 long in quiet, where the ruler is a soldier. 
 
 Ferd. Thou toldest me thy wife could not endure 
 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 fel- 
 low, to lie, like the children of Ismael, all in tents. f 
 * do] The 4to. of 1640, " to do." 
 
 -f- to lie, like the children of hniunt, all in tenti] Middleton Las 
 the same precious pun ; 
 
 " All his discourse out of the Book of Surgery, 
 Seer-cloth, and Salve, and liei you, all in tents, 
 Like your Camjj-Victiers." 
 
 More Diisemblers besides Women, 1657, p. 30. 
 
 In surgery lent is a roll of lint used in searching a wound.
 
 182 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Feed. 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 ready 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. 
 
 Ferd. I am of Pliny's opinion, I think he was 
 begot by the wind ;* he runs as if he were ballassedf 
 with quick-silver. 
 
 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 touch-wood, take fire 
 when I give fire ; that is, laugh [but] when I laugh, 
 were the subject 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. 
 
 * I am of Pii;i(/'s cpinio)!, I think he was begot by the vind] 
 " Constat in Lusitania circa Olisiponem oppidum et Tagum 
 amnem equas Favonio flante obversas aninialem concipere spi- 
 ritum, idque partum fieri, et gigni pemicissimum ita : sed trien- 
 nium vitsc non excedere." — Hist. Nat. viii. 67, torn. ii. p. 212, 
 ed. Delph. 
 
 t hallassed'] This word, the participle of ballass, is generally 
 written ballast by our old poets : 
 
 " And sent them borne ballast with little wealth." 
 
 Greene's Or/an(/o Furioso, 1594, Sig. B.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALTI. 183 
 
 Ferd. But I can laugh at your fool, my lord. 
 
 Cast. He cannot speak, you know, but he makes 
 faces : my lady cannot abide him. 
 
 Feud. No ? 
 
 Cast. Nor endure to be in merry company ; for 
 she says too much laughing, and too much com- 
 pany, fills her too full of the wrinkle. 
 
 Ferd. I would then have a mathematical instru- 
 ment made for her face, that she might not laugh 
 out of compass. I shall shortly visit you at Milan, 
 Lord Silvio. 
 
 Silvio. Your grace shall arrive most welcome. 
 
 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 
 horsemanship arise the first sparks of growing reso- 
 lution, that raise the mind to noble action. 
 
 Ferd. You have bespoke it worthily. 
 
 Silvio. Your brother, the lord Cardinal, and 
 sister Dutchess. 
 
 E7iter Cardinal, Dutchess, Cariola, and 
 Julia. 
 
 Card. Are the gallies 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?
 
 184 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 I mean his temper ? they say he's a brave fellow, 
 Will play his five thousand crowns at tennis, dance, 
 Court ladies, and one that hath fought single 
 combats. 
 
 Ant. Some such flashes superficially han>jf on him, 
 for form ; but observe his inward character : he is a 
 melancholy churchman ; the spring in his face is no- 
 thing but the engendering of toads ; where he 
 is jealous of any man, he lays worse plots for them, 
 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 tur- 
 bulent nature : 
 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 quality. 
 He speaks with others' tongues, and hears men's 
 
 suits 
 With others' ears; will seem to sleep o'th' bench 
 Only to entrap oftendcrs in their answers ;
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 185 
 
 Dooms men to death by information, 
 Rewards by hearsay. 
 
 Delio. Then the law to him 
 Is like a foul black cob-web to a spider, 
 He makes it his dwellini; 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, 
 They that do flatter him most say oracles 
 Hang at his lips; and verily I believe them, 
 For the devil speak* in them. 
 But for their sister, the ri;jht noble dutchess. 
 You never fix'd your eye on three fair medals 
 Cast in one figure, of Sij different temper. 
 For her discourse, it is so full of rapture. 
 You only will begin tlien to be sorry 
 When she doth end her speech, and wish, in wonder, 
 She held it less vain-glory, 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 tu dote 
 On that sweet countenance ; but in that look 
 There speaketh so divine a continence. 
 As cuts off all lascivious and vain hope. 
 Her days are praclis'd in su< h noble virtue. 
 That sure her nii;hts, nay more, her very sleeps. 
 Are more in heaven, than other ladies' shrifts. 
 Let all sweet ladies break their flattering glasses,
 
 186 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 And dress themselves in her. 
 
 Delio. Fie, Antonio, 
 You play the wire-drawer with her commendations. 
 
 Ant. I'll 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. 
 
 Cari. You must attend iny lady in the gallery, 
 Some half an hour hence. 
 
 Ant. I shall. {^Exeunt Antonio and Delio. 
 
 Ferd. Sister, I have a suit to you. 
 
 Dutch. To me, sir ? 
 
 Ferd. A gentleman here, Daniel de Bosola, 
 Oiie that was in the gallies 
 
 Dutch. Yes, I know him. 
 
 Ferd. A worthy fellow h' is : pray let me entreat 
 for 
 The provisorship of your horse. 
 
 Dutch. Your knowledge of him 
 Commends him and prefers him. 
 
 Ferd. Call him hiiher. \^Ezit Attendant. 
 
 We [are] now upon parting. Good Lord Silvio, 
 Do us commend to all our noble friends 
 At the leaguer. 
 
 Silvio, Sir, I shall. 
 
 Ferd. You are for Milan ? 
 
 Silvio. I am. 
 
 Dutch. Bring the carroches : we'll bring you 
 down to the haven. 
 
 \Exeunt Dutchess, Silvio, Caslruccio, Ro- 
 derigo, Grisolan^ Cariola, Julia, and 
 Attendants.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 187 
 
 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 deceiv'd in him : 
 His nature is too honest for such business. 
 He comes : I'll leave you. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Bosola. 
 Bos. I was lur'd to you. 
 
 Ferd. My brother here, the cardinal could never 
 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 
 You must give great men leave fo take their times. 
 Distrust doth cause us seldom be deceiv'd : 
 You see, the oft shaking of the cedar-tree 
 Fastens it more at root. 
 Bob. Yet, take heed ; 
 For to suspect a friend unworthily, 
 Instructs him the next way to suspect you, 
 And prompts him to deceive you.
 
 188 THE DUTCHESS OK MALKI. 
 
 Feud. There's gold. 
 
 Bos. So, 
 What follows ? never rain'd such showers as these 
 Without thunderbolts i'lh'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 dutchess ; 
 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 : 
 I would not have her marry again. 
 
 Bos. No, sir ? 
 
 Ferd. Do not you ask the reason ; but be satisfied 
 I say I would not. 
 
 Bos. It seems you would create me 
 One of your familiars. 
 
 Ferd. Familiar! what's that? 
 
 Bos. Why, a very quaint invisible devil in flesh ; 
 An intelligencer. 
 
 Ferd. Such a kind of thriving thing 
 I would wish thee ; and ere long, thou may'sL arrive 
 At a higher place by't. 
 
 Bos. Take your devils. 
 Which hell calls angels: these curs'd gifts would 
 
 make 
 You a corrupter, me an impudent traitor ; 
 And should I take these, they'd take me [to] hell. 
 
 • 'havi(nir'] The 4to. of ICIO, " behaviour."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 189 
 
 Ferd. Sir, I'll take nothing from you, that I have 
 given : 
 There is a place that I procur'd 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. T would have you curse yourself now, that 
 your bounty 
 (Which makes men truly noble) e'er should make 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 vild. 
 That names he complemental. 
 
 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 politick dormouse 
 
 Bos. As I have seen some, 
 Feed in a lord's dish, half asleep, not seeming 
 To listen to any talk ; and yet these rogues 
 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.
 
 190 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Enter Dutchess, Cardinal and Cariola. 
 
 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. 
 
 Card. We are to part from you; and your own 
 discretion 
 Must now be your director. 
 
 Ferd. You are a widow : 
 You know already what man is ; and therefore 
 Let not youth, high promotion, eloquence 
 
 Card. No, 
 Nor any thing without the addition, honour. 
 Sway your high blood. 
 
 Ferd. Marry! they are most luxurious,* 
 Will wed twice. 
 
 Card. O, fie! 
 
 Ferd. Their livers are more spotted 
 Than Laban's sheep. 
 
 Dutch. Diamonds are of most value, 
 They say, that have past through most jewellers' 
 hands. 
 
 Ferd. Whores, by that rule, are precious. 
 
 Dutch. Will you hear me? 
 I'll never marry. 
 
 CARD.f So most widows say ; 
 
 * Ituurious] i. e. incontinent, 
 t Cardiiutll The 4to. of 1640 gives, by mistake, this speech 
 to Ferdinand.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 191 
 
 But commonly that motion lasts no longer 
 
 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; looktu't: be not cunning; 
 For they whose faces do belie their hearts, 
 Are witches ere they arrive at twenty years, 
 Ay, and give the devil suck. 
 
 Dutch. This is terrible good counsel. 
 
 Ferd. Hypocrisy is woven of a fine small thread, 
 Subtler than Vulcan's engine :* yet, believe't, 
 Your darkest actions, nay, your privat'st thoughts, 
 Will come to light. 
 
 Card. You may flatter yourself. 
 And take your own choice ; privately be married 
 Under the eves of night — 
 
 Ferd. Think't the best voyage 
 That e'er you made ; like the irregular crab, 
 Which, though't goes backward, thinks that it goes 
 
 right, 
 Because it goes its own way : but observe, 
 Such weddings may more properly be said 
 To be executed, than celebrated. 
 
 Card. The marriage night 
 Is the entrance into some prison. 
 
 * Vulcan's engine] i. e. the net in which he caught Mars and 
 Venus.
 
 192 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Ferd. And those joys, 
 Those lustful pleasures, are like heavy sleeps 
 Which do fore-run man's mischief. 
 
 Card Fare you well. 
 Wisdom begins at the end : remember it. [Exit. 
 
 DuTin. I think this speech between you both 
 was studied, 
 It came so roundly off. 
 
 Feud. You are my sister ; 
 This was my father's poniard, do you see ? 
 I'd be lo.ith to see it look rusty, 'cause 'twas his. 
 I woulil have you give* o'er these chargeable revels : 
 A visor, and a mask are whispering rooms 
 That were never built for goodness ; — fare ye well, — 
 And women like that part, which like the lamprey, 
 Hath never a l)one iu't. 
 
 Dutch. Fie, sir. 
 
 Ferd, Nay, 
 I mean the tongue ; variety of courtship : 
 What cannot a neat knave with a smooth tale 
 Make a woman believe? Farewell, lusty widow. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Dutch. Shall this move me? If all my royal 
 kindred 
 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, 
 By apprehending danger, have atchiev'd 
 
 * give} The 4to. of 1623, " to give."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 193 
 
 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 wink'd, and chose a husband. Cariola, 
 To thy known secresy I have given up 
 More than my life — my fame. 
 
 Cari. Both shall be safe: 
 For I'll conceal this secret from the world, 
 As warily as those that trade in poison 
 Keep poison from their children. 
 
 Dutch. Thy protestation 
 Is ingeniousf and hearty: 1 believe it. 
 Is Antonio come ? 
 
 Cari. He attends you. 
 Dutch. 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 clew. 
 To be my guide. [Cariola goes heliind the arras. 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 I sent for you : sit down ; 
 Take pen and ink, and write : are you ready ? 
 Ant. Yes. 
 Dutch. What did I say ? 
 
 * assay] The 4to. of 1640. " affray." 
 f iiigewous'l See note f p. 79. 
 X 'iwr] The 4to of 1 '540, " no." 
 VOL. I. O
 
 194 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFf. 
 
 Ant. That I should write somewhat. 
 
 Dutch. O, I remember. 
 After these* triumphs and this large expence, 
 It's fit, lilie thrifty husbands, we inquire 
 What's laid up for to-morrow. 
 
 Ant. So please your beauteous excellence. 
 
 Dutch. Beauteous I 
 Indeed I thank you : I look young for your sake ; 
 You have ta'en my cares upon you. 
 
 Ant. I'll fetch your grace 
 The particulars of your revenue and expence. 
 
 Dutch. O, you are 
 An upright treasurer; but you mistook : 
 For when I said I meant to make inquiry 
 What's laid up for to-raorrow, I did mean 
 What's laid up yonder for me. 
 
 Ant. Where ? 
 
 Dutch. In heaven. 
 I am making my will, (as 'tis fit princes should, 
 In perfect memory,) and, I pray, sir, tell me, 
 Were not one better makef it smiling, thus, 
 Than in deep groans, and terrible ghastly looks, 
 As if the gifts we parted with procur'd 
 That violent distraction ? I 
 
 Ant. O, much better. 
 
 Dutch. If I had a husband now, this care were 
 quit : 
 
 • thae] Both the earliest 4tos. " this." 
 t make] The 4to. of 1640, " to make." 
 X distraction'] Both the earliest 4tos. " distruMtion."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 195 
 
 But I intend to make you overseer. 
 
 What good deed shall we first remember ? say. 
 
 Ant. Begin with that first good deed began i'th' 
 world* 
 After man's creation, the sacrament of marriage : 
 I'd have you firstf provide for a good husband ; 
 Give him all. 
 
 Dutch. All ? . 
 
 Ant. Yes, your excellent self. 
 
 Dutch. In a winding sheet ? 
 
 Ant. In a couple. 
 
 Dutch. St. Winifred, that were a strange will ! 
 
 Ant. 'Twere strange| if there were no will in you 
 To marry again. 
 
 Dutch. What do you think of marriage ? 
 
 Ant. I take't, as those that deny purgatory, 
 It locally contains, or heaven, or hell, 
 There's no third place in't. 
 
 Dutch. How do you affect it? 
 
 Ant. My banishment, feeding my melancholy, 
 Would often reason thus. 
 
 Dutch. 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 
 
 • that first good deed began i'th' world'] The 4to. of 1640, 
 " That good deed that first began i' th' world." 
 t first} Omitted in the 4to. of 1 6 40. 
 J strange'] Qy. " stranger."
 
 196 THE DUTCHESS 01' MaLFI, 
 
 Upon a painted stick, or hear him chatter 
 Like a taught starling. 
 
 Dutch. Fie, fie, what's all this? 
 One of your eyes is blood-shot ; use my ring to 't, 
 They say 'tis very sovereign : 'twas my wedding ring, 
 And I did vow never to part with it 
 But to my second husband. 
 
 Ant. You have parted with it now. 
 
 Dutch. Yes, to help your eye-sight. 
 
 Ant. You have made me stark blind. 
 
 Dutch. How ? 
 
 Ant. There is a saucy and ambitious devil. 
 Is dancing in this circle. 
 
 Dutch. Remove him. 
 
 Ant. How? 
 
 Dutch. There needs small conjuration, when 
 your finger 
 May do it; thus; is it fit? 
 
 [She puts the ring upon his finger : he kneels. 
 
 Ant. What said you ? 
 
 Dutch. Sir, 
 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, 
 That is not kept in chains, and close-pent-rooms. 
 But in fair lightsome lodgings, and is girt 
 With the wild noise of prattling visitants, 
 Which makes it lunatick beyond all cure.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 197 
 
 Conceive not I am so stupid but I aim 
 Whereto your favours tend: but he's a tool, 
 That being a-cold, would thrust his hands i'th' fire 
 To warm them. 
 
 Dutch. So now, the ground's broke. 
 You may discover what a wealthy mine 
 I make you lord of. 
 
 Ant. O, my unworthiness ! 
 
 Dutch. You were ill to sell yourself: 
 This darkening of your worth is not like that 
 Which tradesmen use i'th' city ; their false lights 
 Are to rid bad wares off: and I must tell you, 
 If you will* know where breathes a complete man, 
 (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 serv'd virtue, 
 And ne'er ta'en wages of her. 
 
 Dutch. Now she pays it. 
 The misery of us that are born great! 
 We are forc'd to woo, because none dare woo us ; 
 And as a tyrant doubles with his words, 
 And fearfully equivocates, so we 
 Are forc'd to express our violent passions 
 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 m your bosom : 
 I hope 'twill multiply love there. You do tremble : 
 
 * will] The 4to. of 1640, " would."
 
 198 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 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, 
 
 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. 
 
 Dutch. I thank you, gentle love : 
 And 'cause you shall not come to rae in debt. 
 Being now my steward, here upon your lips 
 I sign your Quietus est. This you should have 
 
 begg'd now ; 
 I have seen children oft eat sweetmeats thus, 
 As fearful to devour them* too soon. 
 
 Ant. But for your brothers ? 
 
 Dutch. Do not think of them : 
 All discord without this circumference 
 Is only to be pitied, and not fear'd \ 
 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 
 
 * 1 hate seen children oft eat sweetmeats thus, 
 
 As fearful to devour them] Occurs again verbatim in Appitu 
 and Virginia, A. I. S. 1.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 199 
 
 Would not have savour'd flattery. 
 
 Dutch. Kneel. 
 
 [Cariola comes from behind the arras. 
 
 Ant. Ha! 
 
 Dutch, Be not amaz'd, this woman's of my 
 counsel : 
 I have heard lawyers say, a contract in a chamber 
 Per verba presenti 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. 
 
 Dutch. 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. 
 
 Dutch. What can the church force more? 
 
 Ant. That fortune may not know an accident 
 Either of joy, or sorrow, to divide 
 Our fixed wishes. 
 
 * That we may imitate the loving palms, S^c.'] Compare a pretty 
 passage of Glapthome ; 
 
 " O Argalus, I thought 
 We should have liv'd, and taught the erring world 
 Affection's primitive purenesse ; grown like Palmes, 
 That do with amorous mixture iwine their boughes 
 Into a league-union, and so florish 
 Old in each others armes." 
 
 Argalus and Parthenia, 1639, Sig. F 4.
 
 00 THE DUTCH KSS OF MALFT. 
 
 Dutch. How can the church build faster? 
 We now are man and wit?, and 'tis the church 
 That must but echo this. Maid, stand apart : 
 I now am blind. 
 
 Ant. What's your conceit in this ? 
 
 Dutch. I would have you lead your fortune by 
 the hand 
 Unto your marriage bed : 
 (You speak in me this, for we now are one:) 
 We'll only lie, and talk together, and plot 
 T'appease my humorous kindred ; and if you please. 
 Like the oid tale in Alexander and Lodowick,* 
 Lay a naked sword between us, keep us chaste. 
 O, let me shrowd my blushes in your bosom, 
 Since 'tis the treasury of all my secrets ! 
 
 [Ereunt Dutchess and Antonio. 
 
 Cart. Whetherlhespiritof greatness, or of woman 
 Reign most in her, 1 know not; but it shews 
 A fearful madness: I owe her much of pity. [Exit. 
 
 * Like the old tale iv A lexander and Lodowicli] The Two Faith- 
 ful Friends, the pleasant History ij' Alexander and Lodwicke, who 
 were io like one another, that none could know them asunder ; wherein 
 it declared haw Lodwicke married the Princesse of Hungaria, in 
 Alexander's name, and hoio each night he layd anaked su'(yrd hetweent 
 him and the Frince^se, hecause he would 7int urtvig his friend, is re- 
 printed (from the Pepys Collection) in Evans's Old Ballads, 
 vol.1, p. 77 ed. 1810. A play written by Alartin Slaughter, 
 called Alexander and Lodowick, was acted as early as 1597: 
 see Henslowe's Register, in Malone's Sliakespeare (by Boswell) 
 vol. iii. p. 307 ami 319
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MVL: I. 201 
 
 ACT II.— SCENE I. 
 
 Enter Bosola, and Castuiccio. 
 
 Bos. You say, you would fain be taken for an 
 eminent courtier I 
 
 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 memoty. 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 him be sure to scape 
 the gallows. 
 
 Cast. I would be a very merry president. 
 
 Bos. Do not sup a' nights ; 'twill beget you an 
 admirable wit. 
 
 Cast. Rather it would make me have a good 
 stomach to quarrel ; for they say, your roaring boys* 
 eat meat seldom, and that makes them so valiant. 
 
 * roaring ho\\s\ A cant term for the insolent bloods and 
 vapoureis of the time, whose delight was to annoy the well-be- 
 haved inhabitants of the capital, by quarrelling and raising 
 violent disturbances on all possible occasions.
 
 202 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 But how shall I know whether the people take me 
 for an eminent fellow ? 
 
 Bos, I will teach a trick to know it : give out you 
 lie a-dying, and if you hear the common people 
 curse you, be sure you are taken for one of the 
 prime night-caps.* 
 
 Enter an Old Lady. 
 You come from painting now. 
 
 Old Lady. From what ? 
 
 Bos. Why, from your scurvy face-physick. 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 small-pox, flead the 
 skin ofFher face, to make it more level ; and whereas 
 before she looked like a nutmeg-grater, after she re- 
 sembled an abortive hedge-hog. 
 
 Old Lady. Do you call this painting? 
 
 Bos, No, no, but you call [it] careening of an old 
 morphewed lady, to make her disembogue again : 
 there's rough-cast phrase to your plastick. 
 
 Old Lady. It seems you are well acquainted 
 with my closet. 
 
 Bos. One would suspect it for a shop of witch- 
 craft, to find in it the fat of serpents, spawn of 
 snakes, Jews' spittle, and their young childrens' or- 
 dure; and all these for the face. I would sooner 
 
 * night-caps'\ Another cant term, used again by our author in 
 Tlie Devil's Law Case, Act II. Sc. I. 
 
 " Among a shoal or swarm of reeking night-caps."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALVI. 203 
 
 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 tv\o 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-priced courtezan with the fall of the leaf. I 
 
 do wonder you do not loathe yourselves. Observe 
 
 my meditation now. 
 
 What thing is in this outward form of man 
 
 To be belov'd? 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 amaz'd 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. 
 
 Though we are eaten up of lice and worms, 
 
 And though continually we bear about us 
 
 A rotten and dead body, we delight 
 
 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. 
 
 [ Exeunt Castruccio and Old Lady. 
 I observe our dutchess 
 Is sick a-days, she pukes, her stomach seethes,
 
 204 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFl. 
 
 The fius of her eye-lids 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 somewhat 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. 
 
 Ant. Let me seal your lips for ever : 
 For did I think, that any thing but th' air 
 Could carry these words from you, I should wish 
 You had no breath at all. — Now Sir, in your 
 
 contemplation t 
 You are studying to become a great wise fellow. 
 
 Bos. O, sir, the opinion of wisdom, is a foul tetter,t 
 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 
 Puft up with your preferment, you continue 
 This out-of-fashion melancholy : leave it, leave it. 
 
 * The Jins of her eiie-lids look most teeming hlue^ So in The 
 MaUcontent, Act. 1. Sc. I. ; " till the Jin tf his eyes took as blue 
 as the welkin." See vol. iii. 
 
 f tetter] The 4lo. of 1640. " terror."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 205 
 
 Bos. Give me leave to be honest in any phrase, in 
 any complement whatsoever. Shall I confess myself 
 to you ? 1 look no higher than 1 can reach : they 
 are the gods that must ride on winged horses. A 
 lawyer's mule of a slow pace, will both suit my dis- 
 position 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. 
 
 Bos. O, sir, you are lord of the ascendant, chief 
 man with the dutchess ; 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 per- 
 sons : they are deceived, there's the same hand to 
 them ; the like passions sway them ; the same reason 
 that makes a vicar to go to law for a tithe-pig, and 
 undo his neighbours, makes them spoil a whole pro- 
 vince, and batter down goodly cities with the 
 cannon. 
 
 Enter Dutchess and Ladies. 
 Dutch. Your arm, Antonio: do I not grow fat? 
 
 * Ymi wMild look up to heaven, dSj-c] So our author again in The 
 DevWs Law-case, Act V. S. 5 : 
 
 '* While they aspire to do themselves most right. 
 The devil, that rules i'ih'nir, hangs in their light.
 
 206 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 I am exceeding short-winded. Bosola, 
 I would have you, sir, provide for me a litter ; 
 Such a one as the dutcliess of Florence rode in. 
 Bos. The dutchess us'd one when she was great 
 
 with child. 
 Dutch. I think she did. Come hither, mend my 
 ruff: 
 Here, when ? thou art such a tedious lady ; and 
 Thy breath smells of lemon pills : would thou hadst 
 
 done ! 
 Shall I swoon under thy fingers ? I am 
 So troubled with the mother ! 
 Bos. I fear too much. 
 
 Dutch. I have heard you say, that the French 
 courtiers 
 Wear their hats on fore the king. 
 Ant. I have seen it. 
 Dutch. In the presence ? 
 Ant. Yes. 
 
 Dutch.* 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 to the rest o'th' court ; 
 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 
 
 • Why, <5fc.] This speech is jiven by mistake in the three 
 earliest 4tos. to Antonio.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 207 
 
 Me thought shevv'd reverently. 
 
 Bos. I have a present for your grace. 
 Dutch. Forme, sir? 
 Bos. Apricocks, madam. 
 Dutch. O, sir, where are they? 
 I have heard of none to year. 
 Bos. Good, her colour rises, 
 Dutch. Indeed I thank you: they are wondrous 
 fair ones ; 
 What an unskilful fellow is our gardener ! 
 We shall have none this month. 
 
 Bos. Will not your grace pare them ? 
 
 Dutch. No: they taste of musk, methinks; 
 
 indeed they do. 
 Bos. I know not : yet I wish your grace had 
 
 par'd 'em. 
 Dutch. 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. 
 
 Dutch. 0, you jest. — 
 You shall judge : pray, taste one. 
 
 Ant. Indeed, madam, 
 1 do not love the fruit. 
 
 Dutch. Sir, you are loath 
 To rob us of our dainties : 'tis a delicate fruit ; 
 They say they are restorative. 
 
 Bos. 'Tis a pretty art, 
 This grafting. 
 
 Dutch. 'Tis so ; bettering of nature. 
 Bos. To make a pippin grow upon a crab,
 
 208 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 A damson on a black-thorn. How greedily she eats 
 
 th(!m ! 
 A wliirlwind strike off these bawd farthingales ! 
 For, but for that, and the loose-bodied gown, 
 I should have discover'd apparently 
 The young springal cutting a caper in her belly. 
 
 DuiCH, I thank you, Bosola : they were right 
 good ones, 
 If they do not make me sick. 
 
 Ant. How now, madam? 
 
 Dutch. This green fruit and my stomach are not 
 friends : 
 How they swell me ! 
 
 Bos. Nay, you are too much swell'd already. 
 
 Dutch. O, 1 am in an extreme cold sweat! 
 
 Bos. I am very sorry. [Exit. 
 
 Dutch. Lights to my chamber. O, good Antonio, 
 I fear I am undone ! 
 
 Del 10. Lights there, lights. 
 
 [Ereunt Dui chess and Ladies. 
 
 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 prepar'd 
 Those ladies to attend her ? and procur'd 
 That politick safe conveyance for the midwife, 
 Your dutchess plotted ? 
 
 Ant. I have. 
 
 Delio. Make use then of this forc'd occasion : 
 
 * most] Omitted in the 4to. of 1640.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 209 
 
 Give out that Bosola hath poison'd her 
 
 With these apricocks ; that will give some colour 
 
 For her keeping close. 
 
 Ant. Fie, fie, the physicians 
 Will then flock to her. 
 
 Del 10. For that you may pretend 
 She'll use some prepar'd 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. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 Enter Bosola. 
 Bos. So, so, there's no question but her techi- 
 ness* 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 
 monstrous desire to see the glass-house — 
 Old Lady. Nay, pray let me go. 
 Bos. And it was only to know what strange in- 
 strument it was, should swell up a glass to the 
 fashion of a woman's belly. 
 
 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 
 
 • teehiness] The 4tos. " teatchiues," and " teatchives." 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 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 mathematicks ? 
 
 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 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, Rodeuigo, and Grisolan. 
 
 Ant. Shut up the court-gates. 
 
 Rod. Why, sir? what's the danger ? 
 
 Ant. Shut up the posterns presently, and call 
 All the officers o'th' court. 
 
 Guis. 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 ! 
 
 * beurs] Both the earliest 4to3. *'t«ar,"
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 211 
 
 Bos. If that these apricocks should be poison'd 
 now, 
 Without my knowledge ! 
 
 First Serv. There was taken even now a Switzer 
 in the dutchess' bed-chamber — 
 
 Second Serv. A Switzer! 
 
 First Serv. With a pistol in his great cod-piece. 
 
 Bos. Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 First Serv. The cod-piece was the case for't. 
 
 Second Serv. There was a cunning traitor; 
 who would have search'd his cod-piece ? 
 
 First Serv. True, if he had kept out of the 
 ladies' chamliers : and all the moulds of his buttons 
 were leaden bullets. 
 
 Second Serv. O, wicked cannibal! a fire-lock 
 in's cod-piece ! 
 
 First Serv. 'Twas a French plot, upon my life. 
 
 Second Serv. To see, what the devil can do! 
 
 Ant. [Are] all the officers here ? 
 
 Servants. We are. 
 
 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 dutchess' cabinet. 
 Are the gates shut ? 
 
 Serv. Yes. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis the dutchess' pleasure 
 Each officer be lock'd into his chamber 
 Till the sun-rising ; and to send the keys
 
 212 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Of all their chests, and of their outward doors 
 Into her bed-chamber. She is very sick. 
 Rod. At her pleasure. 
 
 Ant. She entreats you take't not ill : the innocent 
 Shall be the more approv'd by it. 
 
 Bos. Gentleman o'th' wood-yard, where's your 
 
 Switzer now ? 
 First Sf.rv. By this hand 'twas credibly re- 
 ported by one o'th' blackguard* 
 
 [Exeunt all but Jntonio and Delio. 
 Delio. How fares it with the dutchess ? 
 Ant. She's expos'd 
 Unto the worst of torture, pain and fear. 
 Delio. Speak to her all happy comfort. 
 Ant. How I do play the fool with mine own 
 danger ! 
 You are this night, dear friend, to post to Rome : 
 My life lies in your service. 
 Delio. Do not doubt me. 
 
 Ant. O, 'tis far from me ! and yet fear presents me 
 Somewhat that looks like danger. 
 
 Delio. Believe it, 
 'Tis but the shadow of your fear, no more: 
 How superslitiously we mind our evils ! 
 The throwing down salt, or crossing of a hare, 
 Bleeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse, 
 Or singing of a cricket, are of power 
 To daunt whole man in us. Sir, fare you well : 
 
 * bluckgueir(n See note * p. 20.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 213 
 
 I wish you all the joys of a blest father; 
 And, for my faith, lay this unto your breast, 
 Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Enter Cariola. 
 
 Cari. Sir, you are the happy father of a son : 
 Your wife commends him to you. 
 
 Ant. Blessed comfort ! 
 For heaven' sake tend her well : I'll presently 
 Go set a figure for's nativity. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 £w/crBosoLA, with a dark lantern. 
 
 Bos. Sure I did hear a woman shriek : list, ha ! 
 And the sound came, if I receiv'd it right, 
 From the dutchess' 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 solitariness, 
 The owl, that scream'd so. Ha ! Antonio ! 
 Enter Antonio. 
 
 Ant. I heard some noise. Who's there ? what 
 art thou? speak. 
 
 Bos. Antonio, put not your face nor body 
 To such a forc'd expression of fear ; 
 I am Bosola your friend. 
 
 Ant. Bosola! 
 This mole does undermine me — Heard you not
 
 214 THE DUTCHESS OF JIALFI. 
 
 A noise even now ? 
 
 Bos. From whence ? 
 
 Ant. From the dutchess' lodging. 
 
 Bos. Not T : did you ? 
 
 Ant. I did, or else I dream'd. 
 
 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 
 For the dutchess' jewels. 
 
 Bos. Ah, and how falls your question ? 
 Do you find it radical ? 
 
 Ant. What's that to you ? 
 'Tis rather to be question'd 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. This fellow will undo me. 
 You gave the dutchess apricocks to day: 
 Pray heaven they were not poison'd. 
 
 Bos. Poison'd ! a Spanish fig 
 For the imputation. 
 
 Ant. Traitors are ever confident, 
 i'ill they are discover'd. There werejewelsstol'ntoo:
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 215 
 
 In my conceit, none are to be suspected 
 More than vourself. 
 
 Bos. You are a false steward. 
 
 Ant. Saucy slave, I'll pull th^e up by the roots. 
 
 Bos. Mav be the ruin will crush you to pieces. 
 
 Ant. You are an impudent snake indeed, sir. 
 Are you scarce warm, and do you shew your sting? 
 You libel well, sir. 
 
 Bos. No, sir: copy it out, 
 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 wrote here for my name. 
 Are drown'd in blood ! 
 Mere accident. — For you, sir, I'll take order 
 I'th' morn you shall be safe — 'tis that uiust colour 
 Her lyin^ in — sir, this door you pass not: 
 I do not hold it fit that you come near 
 The dutchess' lodgings, till you have quit yourself. — 
 The great are like 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. 0, here it is : 
 What's here ? a child's nativity calculated ! 
 
 The Dutchess teas delivered of a son, 'tween the 
 hours twelve and one in (he night, Anno Dom. 1504, 
 (that's this year) decimo nono Decembris, (that's 
 this night,) taken according to the meridian of
 
 216 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Malji (that's our Dutchess : happy discovery !) 
 The lord of the first house being combust in the ascen- 
 dant, signifies short life ; and Mars being in a human 
 sign, joined to the tail of the Dragon, in the eighth 
 house, doth threaten a violent death. Catera non 
 scrutantur. 
 
 Why, now 'tis most apparent : this precise fellow 
 Is the dutchess' bawd — I have it to my wish ! 
 This is a parcel of intelligency 
 Our courtiers were cas'd up for : it needs must 
 
 follow, 
 That I must be committed, on pretence 
 Of poisoning her; which I'll endure, and laugh at. 
 If one could find the father now I 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'erflow their livers. This was a thrifty way. 
 Though lust do mask in ne'er so strange disguise. 
 She's oft found witty, but is never wise. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 Enter Cardinal, a?jd 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
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 217 
 
 Here, for devotion. 
 
 Card. Thou art a witty false one ; 
 I mean, to him. 
 
 Julia. You have prevail'd 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 
 My constancy, because you have approv'd 
 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 ihem fixed. 
 
 Julia. So, my lord. 
 
 Card. We had need go borrow that fantastick 
 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? 
 Are tears your justification ? the self-same tears 
 Will fall into your husband's bosom, lady. 
 With a loud protestation that you love him 
 
 * tuniings'] Boih the e^Liliest itos. " turning."
 
 218 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Above the world. Come, I'll love you wisely, 
 Thai's jealously ; since I am very certain 
 You cannot make tne* cuckold. 
 
 JuLiH I'll !j;o home 
 To my husband. 
 
 Card. You may thank me, lady : 
 I have taken you off your melancholy perch, 
 Bore you upon my fist, and shew'd you game, 
 And let you fly at it. — I pray thee kiss me. — 
 AVhen thou was't with thy husband, thou was't 
 
 watch'd 
 Like a lame 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 woo'd me first, 
 And spake like one in physick. 
 
 Card. Who's that? — 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 Rest firm, for my affection to thee, 
 Lightning moves slow to't. 
 
 Serv. Madam, a gentleman, 
 That's come post from Malfi, desires to see yon. 
 
 Card. Let him enter: I'll withdraw. [Exit. 
 
 Serv. He says, 
 Your husband, old Castruccio, is come to Rome, 
 
 • make me] The 4to of 1623, " me make."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 219 
 
 Most pitifully tired with riding post. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Delio. 
 
 Julia. Signior Delio! 'tis one of my old suitors. 
 
 Delio. I was bold to come and see you.* 
 
 Julia. Sir, you are welcome. 
 
 Delio. Do you lie here? 
 
 Julia. Sure, your own experience 
 Will satisfy you, no rf our Roman prelates 
 Do not keep lodging for ladies. 
 
 Delio. Very well: 
 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, 
 So weary of each other ; if he had had a good back. 
 He would have undertook to have borne his horse, 
 
 * to come and see yoiil The 4to. of 1640, " and come to see 
 you." 
 
 t no] The 4to. of 1640, " now." 
 
 t I must here express my belief that the wliole of this scene 
 between Julia and Delio (like several other scenes in Webster's 
 plays,) was originally written in blank verse sufficiently har- 
 monious, which, from some cause that we cannot now ascertain, 
 became corrupted into its present state. After much considera- 
 tion, I have allowed the scene to stand as it does in the old 
 copies rather than reduce to prose what exhibits manifest trr.i;es 
 of the metre in which I believe the whole was at first com- 
 posed. In other scenes of our author, more important than thi?, 
 I have followed the same plan.
 
 220 THE DUTCHESS OF MALIT. 
 
 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. 
 
 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: 
 It hath no smell, like cassia, or civet ; 
 Nor is it physical, though some fond doctors 
 Persuade us, seeth't* in cullises.f I'll tell you, 
 
 This is a creature bred by 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Serv. Your husband's come, 
 Hath deliver'd a letter to the duke of Calabria, 
 That to ray thinking, hath put him out of his wits. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Julia. Sir, you hear: 
 Pray let me know your business, and your suit. 
 As briefly as can be- 
 
 * seeth'tl Both the earliest 4tos. " sceth's." 
 f cullises] A cullis was a strong and savoury broth of boiled 
 meat strained, for debilitated persons : the old receipt books 
 recommend " pieces of gold" among its ingredients.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALKI. 221 
 
 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 mov'd 
 With a letter sent from Malfi. I do fear 
 Antonio is betray'd : how fearfully 
 Shews his ambition now ! unfortunate fortune ! 
 They pass through whirl-pools, and deep woes do 
 
 shun, 
 Who the event weigh, ere the action's done. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 Enter Cardinal, and Ferdinand with a letter. 
 
 Ferd. I have this night digg'd up a mandrake. 
 Card. Say you ? 
 
 Ferd. And I am grown mad with't.* 
 Card. What's the prodigy ? 
 Ferd. Read there, a sister damn'd : she's loose 
 i'th' hilts ; 
 Grown a notorious strumpet. 
 
 * I have this night digg'd up a iiiandrake. 
 
 And I am grown mad with't'\ Compare Sliakespeare ; 
 " And shrieks, like mandrakes tors out of the earth, 
 That living mortals hearing them run mad." 
 
 Romeo and Juliet, A. IV. S. 3.
 
 22 2 THE DUTCHESS OF MALKI. 
 
 Card. Speak lower. 
 
 Feud. 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 ? 
 Can this be certain ? 
 
 Ferd, Rhubarb, O, for rhubarb, 
 To purge this choier ! here's the cursed day 
 To prompt my memory ; and here't shall stick 
 Till of her bleeding heart I make a spunge 
 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 as waste. 
 As she hath done her honours. 
 
 Card. Shall our blood, 
 The royal blood of Arragon, and Castile, 
 Be thus attainted ? 
 
 Ferd. Apply desperate physick: 
 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.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 223 
 
 There is a kind of pity in mine eye, 
 
 I'll give it to my handkercher ; and now 'tis here, 
 
 rU bequeath this to her bastard. 
 
 Card. What to do? 
 
 Ferd. Why, to make soft lint for his mother's 
 wounds, 
 When I have hewed her to pieces. 
 
 Card. Curs'd creature ! 
 Unequal nature, to place women's hearts 
 So far upon the left side ! 
 
 Ferd. Foolish men, 
 That e'er will trust their honour in a bark 
 Made of so slight weak bulrush as is* woman, 
 Apt every minute to sink it ! 
 
 Card. Thus 
 Ignorance, when it hath purchas'd honour, 
 It cannot wield it. 
 
 Ferd. Methinks I see her laughing, 
 Excellent hyena ! Talk to me somewhat, quickly. 
 Or my imagination will carry me 
 To see her in the shameful act of sin. 
 
 Card. With whom? 
 
 Ferd. Happily with some strong-thigh'd barge- 
 man. 
 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 t lodgings. 
 
 • is] The 4to. of 1640, " this." 
 t privt)] The 4to. of 1640, " private."
 
 224 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Card. You fly beyond your reason. 
 
 Ferd. Go to, mistress ! 
 'Tis not your whore's milk that shall* quench my 
 
 wild- fire, 
 But your whore's blood. 
 
 Card. How idly shews this rage, which carries you, 
 As men convey'd by witches through the air, 
 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 deform'd, so beastly, 
 As doth intemperate anger. Chide yourself. 
 You have divers men, who never yet express'd 
 Their strong desire of rest, but by unrest. 
 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 bodies 
 Burnt in a coal-pit with the ventage stopp'd, 
 ♦ s/i(i//J The 4to. of 1640, "can."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 225 
 
 That their curs'd smoke might not ascend to heaven ; 
 Or dip the sheets they he in in pitch or sulphur, 
 Wrap them in't, and then hght them hke a match ; 
 Or else to boil their bastard to a cullis* 
 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 damn'd in hell, 
 And should have heard of this, it would have put me 
 Into a cold sweat. In, in, I'll go sleep. 
 Till I know who leaps my sister, I'll not stir: 
 That known, I'll find scorpions to stringf my whips, 
 And fix her in a general eclipse. [Exeu7it. 
 
 ACT III.— 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 
 
 dutchess ? 
 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. 
 
 * cullh] See note tp. 220. 
 
 t string] The 4to of 1640, " sting." 
 
 " Leat witb a whip of scorpions I pursue 
 
 Thy lingering." — Milton's Par. Lost, ii. 701. 
 
 VOL. I. **
 
 226 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Delio. Methinks 'twas yesterday; let me but wink, 
 And not behold your face, which to mine eye 
 Is somewhat leaner, verily I should dream 
 It were within this half hour. 
 
 Ant. You have not been in law, friend Delio, 
 Nor in priapn, nor a suitor at the court. 
 Nor begg'd 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 arriv'd 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? 
 
 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 ? 
 
 Ant. The common rabble do directly say 
 She is a strumpet, 
 
 Delio. And your graver heads. 
 Which would be politick, what censure they ? 
 
 Ant. They do observe, I grow to infinite purchase,* 
 
 * purchase] This word is generally used by old dramatists a.s 
 a cant terai for stolen goods, hut bere it seems to mean riches, 
 vsduable property : our author in The Devil's Lav) Case has ; 
 
 " Tailors iu France, they grow to great abominable purchase, 
 and become great officers." Act II. Sc. 1.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 227 
 
 The left hand way ; and all suppose the dutchess 
 Would amend it, if she could : for, say they, 
 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 obhgation 
 Of love or marriage, between her and me, 
 They never dream of. 
 
 Dei.io. The lord Ferdinand 
 Is going to bed. 
 
 Enter Dutchess, Ferdinand, Bosola, and 
 /lltendanfs. 
 
 Ferd. I'll instantly to bed. 
 For I am weary. I am to bespeak 
 A husband for you. 
 
 Dutch. For me, sir! pray who is't? 
 
 Ferd. The great count Malateste. 
 
 Dutch. Fie upon him: 
 A count ! he's a mere stick of sugar-candy ;* 
 You may look quite thorough him. When I chuse 
 A husband, I will marry for your honour. 
 
 Ferd. You shall do well in't. How is't, worthy 
 Antonio ? 
 
 Dutch. But, sir, I am to have private conference 
 with you 
 About a scandalous report is spread 
 Touching mine honour. 
 
 * he's a mere stick of sugar candy, 4;c-] Repeated almost ver- 
 batim in The Devil's Law Case, Act II. Sc. I.
 
 228 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Ferd. Let me be ever deaf to*t : 
 One of Pasquil's paper-bullets, court-calumny, 
 A pestilent air, which princes' palaces 
 Are seldom purg'd of. Yet, say that it were true 
 I pour it in your bosom, my tix'd love 
 Would strongly excuse, extenuate, nay deny 
 Faults, were they apparent in you. Go, be safe 
 In your own innocency. 
 
 Dutch, O bless'd comfort ! 
 This deadly air is purg'd. 
 
 lExeunt Dutchess, Antonio, Delio, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 Ferd. Her guilt treads on 
 Hot burning culters. Now, Bosola 
 How thrives our intelligence ? 
 
 Bos. Sir, uncertainly : 
 'Tis rumour'd she hath had three bastards, but 
 By whom, we may go read i'th' stars. 
 
 Ferd. Why some 
 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 
 Us'd on the dutchess. 
 
 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.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 229 
 
 Ferd. Away, these are mere gulleries, horrid 
 things, 
 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 witch-craft 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 
 Into her bed-chamber. 
 
 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 quick-sands. 
 
 Bos. I do not 
 Think so. 
 
 Ferd. What do you think then, pray ? 
 
 Bos. That you are 
 
 * May say he hath put a girdle 'bout the world] So Shakespeare ; 
 " I'll put a girdle round about the earth." 
 Midsummer-night's Dream, Act II. Sc. 2. on which passage 
 see Steevens's note.
 
 230 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 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. 
 That friend a great man's ruin strongly checks, 
 Who rails into his belief all his defects. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Enter Dutchess, Antonio, and Cariola. 
 
 Dutch. Bring me the casket hither,and the glass. 
 You get no lodging here to night, my lord. 
 
 Ant. Indeed I must persuade one. 
 
 Dutch. Very good: 
 I hope in time 'twill grow into a custom. 
 That noblemen shall come with cap and knee. 
 To purchase a night's lodging of their wives. 
 
 Ant. I must lie here. 
 
 Dutch. Must! you are a lord of mis-rule. 
 
 Ant. Indeed, my rule is only in the night. 
 
 Dutch. To what use will you put me ? 
 
 Ant. We'll sleep together. 
 
 Dutch. Alas, 
 What pleasure can two lovers find in sleep ! 
 
 Cari. My lord, I lie with her often ; and I know 
 She'll much disquiet you. 
 
 Ant. See, you are complain'd of, 
 
 Cari. For she's the sprawlingest bedfellow. 
 
 Ant. I shall like her the better for that.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 231 
 
 Cari. Sir, shall I ask you a question ? 
 
 Ant, Ay, pray thee, Cariola. 
 
 Cari. Wherefore still, when you lie with my lady, 
 Do you rise so early ? 
 
 Ant. Labouring men 
 Count the clock oftenest, Cariola, 
 Are glad when their task's ended. 
 
 Dutch. I'll stop your mouth. 
 
 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 turn'd 
 To the pale empty reed ; Anaxarete 
 Was frozen into marble : whereas those 
 Which married, or prov'd kind unto their friends, 
 Were, by a gracious influence, transhap'd 
 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 propos'd me, wisdom, riches, and beauty, 
 In three several young men, which should I chuse. 
 
 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 couldf judge right, 
 * pgevisK] i. e. foolish, 
 t could'] The 4to. of 1G40, "should."
 
 232 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Having three amorous goddesses in view, 
 And they stark naked ? 'twas a motion 
 Were able to benight the apprehension 
 Of the severest counsellor of Europe. 
 Now I look on both your faces so well form'd, 
 It puts me in mind of a question I would ask. 
 Cari. What is't? 
 
 Ant. I do wonder why hard-favour'd ladies, 
 For the most part, keep worse -favour'd waiting- 
 women. 
 To attend them, and cannot endure fair ones. 
 
 Dutch. O, that's soon answer'd. 
 Did you ever in your life know an ill painter 
 Desire to have his dwelling next door to the shop 
 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 
 Serv'd her the like, when she hathf chaf 'd extremely. 
 I love to see her angry. Softly, Cariola. 
 
 [Exeunt Antonio and Cariola. 
 Dutch. Doth not the colour of my hair 'gin to 
 change ? 
 When I wax gray, I shall have all the court 
 Powder their hair with arras, t to be like me. 
 You have cause to love me; I enter'd you§ into my heart 
 * so] Omitted in the 4to. of 1640. 
 t hatli] The 4to. of 1(540, " had." 
 X arras] See note * p. 133. 
 "■"■"r § you] Omitted in the 4 to. of 1640.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 233 
 
 Before you would vouchsafe to call for the keys. 
 
 Enter Ferdinand behind. 
 We shall one day have my brothers take you napping: 
 Methinks his presence, being now in court, 
 Should make you keep your own bed ; but you'll say 
 =f Love mixt with fear is sweetest. I'll assure you, 
 You shall get no more children till my brothers 
 Consent to be your gossips. Have you lost your 
 
 tongue ? 
 'Tis welcome : 
 
 For know, whether I am doom'd to live or die, 
 I can do both like a prince. 
 Ferd. Die then quickly. 
 
 [Ferdinand gives Iter a poniard. 
 Virtue, where art thou hid ? what hideous thing 
 Is it that doth eclipse* thee? 
 Ditch. Pray, sir, hear me. 
 Ferd. Or is it true thou art but a bare name, 
 And no essential thing ? 
 
 Dutch, Sir 
 
 Ferd. Do not speak. 
 Dutch. No, sir : 
 I will plant my soul in mine ears, to hear you. 
 
 Ferd. O, most imperfect light of human reason. 
 That mak'st usf 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. 
 
 * edipie} The 4to. of 1640, " clip." 
 f us] Not found in the three earliest 4t03.
 
 234 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Dutch. I pray, sir, hear me : I am married. 
 
 Ferd. So. 
 
 Dutch. Happily, not to your liking : but for that, 
 Alas, your shears do conic untimely now 
 To clip the bird's wings, that's already flown ! 
 Will you see my husband ? 
 
 Ferd. Yes, iC I could change 
 Eyes with a basilisk. 
 
 Dutch. Sure, you came hither 
 By his confederacy. 
 
 Ferd. The howling of a wolf 
 Is musick to thee, screech-owl : prithee, peace. 
 Whate'er thou art that hast enjoy'd my sister. 
 For I am sure thou hears't me, for thine own sake* 
 Let me not know thee. I came hither prepar'd 
 To work thy discovery ; yet am now persuaded 
 It would beget suchf 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, vild J woman. 
 If thou do wish thy lecher may grow old 
 In thy embracements, I would have thee build 
 Such a room for him as our anchorites 
 
 * For 1 am sure thou heara't me, for Lhine own iake'\ The 4tO. 
 of 1C40; 
 
 " For 1 am sure thou heard'st me, for mine own sake." 
 f Mtc/i] 'J"he 4to. of 1640, " so." 
 X vihq The 4to. of 1640, " xiild."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFX. 235 
 
 To holier use inhabit. Let not the sun 
 
 Shine on him, till he's dead; let dogs and monkies 
 
 Only 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 ; 
 
 If thou do love him, cut out thine own tongue 
 
 Lest it bewray him. 
 
 Dutch, Why might not I marry ? 
 I have not gone about in this to create 
 Any new world or custom. 
 
 Ferd. Thou art undone; 
 And thou hast ta'en that massy sheet of lead 
 That hid thy husband's bones, and folded it 
 About my heart. 
 
 Dutch. Mine bleeds for't. 
 
 Ferd. Thine! tliy heart ! 
 What should I name't unless a hollow bullet 
 Fill'd with unquencliable wild-fire ? 
 
 Dutch. You are in this 
 Too strict; and were you not my princely brother, 
 I would say, too wilful : my reputation 
 Is safe. 
 
 Ferd. Dost thou know what reputation is ? 
 I'll 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,
 
 236 THE DUTCHESS OF MALKI. 
 
 Or cities plagu'd with plagues : Love gives them 
 
 counsel 
 To enquire for him 'mongst unambitious shepherds, 
 Where dowries w^ere not tallt'd of, and sometimes 
 'Mongst quiet kindred, that had nothing left 
 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, 
 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. 
 
 Dutch. Why should only 1, 
 Of all the other princes of the world, 
 Be cas'd up, like a holy relick ? I have youth, 
 And a little beauty. 
 
 Ferd. So you have some virgins, 
 That are witches. I will never see thee more. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Enter Antonio with a pistol, and Cariola. 
 
 Dutch. You saw this apparition? 
 
 Ant. Yes : we are 
 Betray 'd. How came he hither ? I should turn 
 This to thee, for that. 
 
 Cari. Pray, sir, do ; and when 
 That you have cleft my heart, you shall read there 
 Mine innocence. 
 
 Dutch. That gallery gave him entrance. 
 
 • ihpvkj Some copies of the 4to. of 1623, " ihooked."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 237 
 
 Ant. I would this terrible thing would come ao-ain, 
 That, standing on my guard, I might relate 
 My warrantable love ! Ha ! what means this ? 
 
 [She shews the poniard. 
 Dutch. He left this with me. 
 Ant. And it seems, did wish 
 You would use it on yourself. 
 
 Dutch. His action 
 Seem'd 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 ! 
 
 Dutch. I stand 
 As if a mine beneath my feet were ready 
 To be blown up. 
 Caui. 'Tis Bosola. 
 Dutch. Away. 
 O misery! methinks unjust actions 
 Should wear these masks and curtains, and not we. 
 You must instantly part hence : I have fashion'd it 
 already. [Exit Antonio. 
 
 Enter Bosola. 
 Bos. The duke your brother is ta'en up in a 
 whirl-wind ; 
 Hath took horse, and 's rid post to Rome. 
 Dutch. So late! 
 
 Bos. He told me, as he mounted into th' saddle, 
 You were undone. 
 
 Dutch. Indeed, I am very near it. 
 Bos. What's the matter ?
 
 238 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Dutch. Antonio, the master of our household, 
 Hath dealt so falsely with me in's accounts : 
 My brother stood engag'd with me for money 
 Ta'en up of certain Neapolitan Jews, 
 And Antonio lets the bonds be forfeit. 
 
 Bos. Strange ! this is cunning ! 
 
 Dutch. And hereupon 
 My brother's bills at Naples are protested 
 Against. Call up our* officers. 
 
 Bos. I shall. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 
 Dutch. The place that you must fly to, is Ancona: 
 Hire a house there ; I'll send after you 
 My treasure, and my jewels. Our weak safety 
 Runs upon enginous wheels if short syllables, 
 Must stand for periods. I must now accuse you 
 Of such a feigned crime, as Tasso calls 
 Magnanima menzogna,l a noble lie, 
 'Cause it must shield our honours : — hark, they are 
 coming ! 
 
 * our] The 4to. of 1640, " the." 
 
 f enginous wheels] The 4to. of 1640, substitutes " ingenwus." 
 So Dekker ; 
 
 " For that one Acte gives like an enginous wheele 
 
 Motion to all."— T/ie Whore of Babylon, 1607, Sig. C 2. 
 
 f as Tasso calls 
 
 Magnanima menzogna] In Gerus, Lib. C. ii. St. 22 ; 
 " Cosi al pubblico fate il capo altero 
 OfFerse, e'l volse in se sola raccorre. 
 Magnanima menzogna, or quando e il vero 
 Si hello, che si possa a te preporre t" 
 Most readers must be aware that the great Italian imitates 
 the " splendide mendax' of Horace.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OK MALFI. "239 
 
 Enter Bosola and Officers. 
 
 Ant. Will your grace hear me ? 
 
 Dutch. I have got well by you; you have yielded me 
 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 sign'd your Quietus ; and that cur'd 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 ; 
 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 arm'd 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. 0, 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 fire, 
 A-loath* to part from't ; yet parts thence as cold, 
 As when he first sat down. 
 
 Dutch. 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. 
 
 • A-loath'] Some copies of the •Ito. of 1623, and the 4to. of 
 1640, " Ai loath."
 
 '240 THE DUTCHESS OF MALPI. 
 
 Dutch. So, sir, you have your pass. 
 
 Ant. You may see, gentlemen, v/hat 'tis to serve 
 A prince with body and soul. [Exit. 
 
 Bos. Here's an example for extortion: what mois- 
 ture is drawn out of the sea, when foul weather 
 comes, pours down, and runs into the sea again. 
 
 Dutch. I would know what are your opinions 
 Of this Antonio. 
 
 Second Off. He could not abide to see a pig's 
 head gaping :* I thought your grace would find 
 him a Jew. 
 
 Third Off. I would you had been hisf oflScer, 
 for your own sake. 
 
 FouiiTH Off. You would have had more money. 
 
 First Off. He stopped his ears with black 
 wool, and to those came to him for money, said he 
 was thick of hearing. 
 
 Second Off. Some said he was an hermaphro- 
 dite, for he could not abide a woman. 
 
 Fourth Off. How scurvy proud he wouldj 
 look, when the treasury was full! well, let him go. 
 
 * He could not abide to see a pig's head gfl/'i"i'] So Sliakespeare ; 
 " As there is no firm reason to be render'd 
 Why he cannot abide a gaping pig" 
 
 Merchant of Venice, Act IV. Sc. I. 
 Steevens, in a note on Shylock's speech cites the parallel pas- 
 sage from Webster, and in order to make it run like blank verse 
 inserts a monosyllable. Shakespeare's commentators are too 
 often incorrect in their quotations from old poets. 
 t /lis] Omitted in the 4to. of 1640. 
 + he would] The 4to. of HMO, " would he,"
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 241 
 
 First Off. Yes, and the chippings of the but- 
 tery fly after him, to scour his gold* chain. 
 
 Dutch. Leave us. [Exeunt Officers . 
 
 What do you think of these ? 
 
 Bos. That these are rogues, that in's prosperity, 
 But to have waited on hisf fortune, could have wish'd 
 His dirty stirrup rivetted through their noses ; 
 And follow'd after's mule, like a bear in a ring. 
 Would have prostituted their daughters to his lust ; 
 Made their first-born intelligencers ;X thought none 
 
 happy 
 But such as were born under his blest§ planet. 
 And wore his livery: and do these lice drop off now ' 
 Well, never look to have the like again : 
 He hath left a sortjj of flattering rogues behind him ; 
 Their doom must follow. Princes pay flatterers 
 In their own money : flatterers dissemble iheir vices, 
 And they dissemble their lies ; that's justice. 
 Alas, poor gentleman ! 
 
 Du rcM. Poor ! he hath amply fi-l'd his coffers. 
 Bos. Sure he was too honest. PJatus,1I the god 
 of riches, 
 
 * gold] The 4to. of 1640, "golden." 
 
 t hu] The 4to. of 1640, " this." 
 
 X intelUgencers] Some of the copies of the 4to. of 1623, 
 " and intelligencers." 
 
 § hlest'] Omitted in the 4to of 1640. |! *"•?] i. e. set. 
 
 ^ Plutus, thegodojric'.c^, ifc] The 4t :s. " Pluto." Compare 
 Bacon's Essays; " The poets feign, that when Plutus, (which is 
 VOL. I. I^
 
 242 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 When 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 
 On the devil's errand, he rides post and comes in by 
 
 scuttles. 
 Let me shew you, what a most unvalued jewel 
 You have in a wanton humour thrown away, 
 To bless the man shall find him. He was an 
 
 excellent 
 Courtier, and most faithful ; a soldier, that thought it 
 As beastly to know his own value too little, 
 As devilish to acknowledge it too much. 
 Both his virtue and form deserv'd a far better fortune. 
 His discourse rather delighted to judge itself, than 
 
 shew itself; 
 His breast was fiU'd with all perfection, 
 And yet it seemed a private whispering-room, 
 It made so little noise oft. 
 
 Dutch. But he was basely descended. 
 Bos. Will you make yourself a mercenary herald. 
 Rather to examine men's pedigrees, than virtues ? 
 You shall want him : 
 
 riches,) is sent from Jupiter, he limps, and goes slowly; but 
 when he is sent from Pluto, he runs and is swift of foot ; mean- 
 ing that riches gotten by good means and just labour pace 
 
 slowly it might be applied likewise to Pluto 
 
 taking him for the devil. For when riches come from the devil, 
 (as by fraud and oppression, and unjust means) they come upon 
 speed." Of Riches.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 243 
 
 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. 
 Fare thee well, Antonio ! since the malice of the world 
 Would needs down Avith thee, it cannot be said yet 
 That any ill happened unto thee, considering thy fall 
 Was accompanied with virtue.f 
 
 Dutch. O, you render me excellent music! 
 
 Bos. Say you ? 
 
 Dutch. This good one that you speak of, is my 
 husband. 
 
 Bos, Do 1 not dream ? can this ambitious age 
 Have so much goodness in't, as to prefer 
 A man merely for worth, without these shadows| 
 
 * Bermoothes] i. e. the Bermudas. 
 
 t The text of Webster being in some scenes corrupted (see 
 note J p. 219) tliis and the two preceding speeches of Bosola 
 consist partly of lines of perfect rhythm, which it would be dif- 
 ficult to read as prose, and partly of sentences, which will not 
 admit of any metrical arrangement. To print them in alternate 
 patches of prose and verse was out of the question ; and, follow- 
 ing the advice of an excellent critic in such matters. I have 
 allowed them to stand nearly as they are given in the old 
 4tos. 
 
 t A man merely, ^c] This line is found only in the 4to. of 
 1623.
 
 244 THE DUICHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Of wealth and painted honours ? possible ? 
 
 Dutch. I have had three children by him. 
 
 Bos. Fortunate lady ! 
 For you have made your private nuptial bed 
 The humble and fair seminary of peace. 
 No question but many an unbenefic'd scholar 
 Shall pray for you for this deed, and rejoice 
 That some preferment in the world can yet 
 Arise from merit. The virgins of your land 
 That have no dowries, shall hope your example 
 Will raise them to rich husbands. Should you want 
 Soldiers, 'twould make the very Turks and Moors 
 Turn Chiistians, and serve you for this act. 
 Last, the neglected poets of your time, 
 In honour of this trophy of a man, 
 Rais'd by that curious engine, your white hand. 
 Shall thank you, in your grave, for't ; and make 
 
 that 
 More reverend tlian all the cabinets 
 Of living princes. For Antonio, 
 His fame shall likewise flow from many a pen, 
 When heralds shall want coats to sell to men. 
 
 Dutch. As I taste comfort in this friendly speech. 
 So would I find concealment. 
 
 Bos. O, the secret of my prince, 
 Which I will wear on th' inside of my heart !* 
 
 * Which I will wear nn th' insidi'. of' my heart'] So Shakespeare ; 
 " 1 will wear him 
 In my hearts core." — Hamlet, A. III. S. 2.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 245 
 
 Dutch. You shall take charge of all my coin and 
 jewels. 
 And follow him ; for he retires himself 
 To Ancona. 
 
 Bos. So. 
 
 Dutch. Whither, within few days, 
 I mean to follow thee. 
 
 Bos. Let me think : 
 I would wish your grace lo feign a pilgrimage 
 To our lady of Loretto, scarce seven leagues 
 From fair Ancona ; so may you depart 
 Your country with more honour, and your flight 
 Will seem a princely progress, retaining 
 Your usual train about you. 
 
 Dutch. Sir, your direction 
 Shall lead me by the hand. 
 
 Cari. In my opinion, 
 She were better progress 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, 
 This feigned pilgrimage. 
 
 Dutch. Thou art a superstitious fool: 
 Prepare us instantly for our departure. 
 Past sorrows, let us moderately lament them, 
 For those to come, seek wisely to prevent them. 
 
 [Exeunt Dutchess 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,
 
 246 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFJ. 
 
 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 : 
 
 Now, for this act I am certain to be rais'd. 
 
 And men that paint weeds to the life, are prais'd. 
 
 [Exit, 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Enter Caudinal, Ferdinand, Malateste, 
 Pescara, Delio, and Silvio, 
 
 CARD.f Must we turn soldier then? 
 
 Mal. The emperour, 
 Hearing your worth that way, ere you attain'd 
 This reverend garment, joins you in commission 
 With the right fortunate soldier, the Marquess of 
 
 Pescara, 
 And the famous Lannoy. 
 
 Card. He that had the honour | 
 Of taking the French king prisoner ? 
 
 Mal. The same. 
 Here's a plot drawn for a new fortification 
 At Naples. 
 
 Feud. This great Count Malateste, I perceive, 
 Hath got employment ? 
 
 Delio. No employment, my lord ; 
 
 * intelligencerl The 4to. of 1640, " intelligencen." 
 
 f Another scene that hovers between prose and verse. See 
 
 note J p. 219. 
 
 J the famous Lannoy he that had the honour, ^c] Charles de 
 
 Lannoy, or Launoy, took Francis I. prisoner at the battle of Pavia-
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 247 
 
 A marginal note in the muster-book, that he is 
 A voluntary lord. 
 
 Ferd. He's no soldier. 
 
 Delio. He has worn gun-powder iu's hollow 
 tooth, for the tooth-ache. 
 
 SiL. He comes to the leaguer with a full intent 
 To eat fresh beef and garlick, 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. 
 
 Delio. By the almanack, I think, 
 To choose good days, and shun the critical; 
 That's his mistress' scarf. 
 
 Silvio. Yes, he protests 
 He would do much for that tafFata. 
 
 Delio. I think he would run away from a battle, 
 To save it from taking prisoner. 
 
 SiL. He is horribly afraid 
 Gun-powder 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. 
 
 SiL. I would he had made a touch-hole to't. 
 He is indeed a guarded sumpter-cloth. 
 Only for the remove of the court. 
 
 * pewterers} Some copies of the 4to. of 1623, and the 4to. of 
 1640, "painters."
 
 248 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI, 
 
 Enter Bosola. 
 
 Pes. Bosola arriv'd ! what should be the business ? 
 Some falling out amongst the cardinals. 
 These factions amongst great men, they are like 
 Foxes, when their heads are divided, 
 They carry fire in their tails, and all the country 
 About them goes to wrack for't. 
 
 SiL. What's that Bosola? 
 
 Delio. I knew him in Padua, — a fantastical 
 scholar, like such, who study to know how many 
 knots was in Hercules' club, of what colour Achilles' 
 beard was, or whether Hector were not troubled 
 with the tooth-ache. He hath studied himself half 
 blear-eyed to know the true symmetry of Cjesar's nose 
 by a shoeing-horn ; and this he did to gain the name 
 of a speculative man. 
 
 Pes. 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. 
 
 Pes. The lord Ferdinand laughs. 
 
 Delio. 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, 
 
 Delio. In such a deformed silence witches whis- 
 per their charms.
 
 THE DUlCIlliSS OF MALFI. 249 
 
 Card. Doth she inake religion her riding-hood 
 To keep her from the sun and tempest ? 
 
 Ferd. That, 
 That damns her. Methinks her fault and beauty, 
 Blended together, shew like leprosv. 
 The whiter, the fouler. I make it a question 
 Whether her beggarly brats were ever christen'd. 
 
 Card. T will instantly solicit the state of Ancona 
 To have them banish'd. 
 
 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 
 With's mother's honesty. 
 
 Bos. I will, 
 
 Ferd. Antonio ! 
 A slave that only smell'd of ink and counters, 
 And never in's life look'd 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. [Ezeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 Enter Two Pilgrims to the Shrine of our Lady of 
 Loretto. 
 
 First Pil. I have not seen a goodlier shrine 
 than this, 
 Yet I have visited many. 
 
 Second Pil. The cardinal of Arragon
 
 250 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Is this day to resign his cardinal's hat: 
 
 His sister dutchess likewise is arriv'd 
 
 To pay her vow of pilgrimage. I expect 
 
 A noble ceremony 
 
 First PiL. No question. They come. 
 
 \_Here the ceremony of the CardinaVs instalment, 
 in the habit of a soldiery performed in de- 
 livering up his cross, hat, robes, and ring, at 
 the shrine, and investing him loith sword, 
 helmet, shield, and spurs : then Antonio, the 
 Dutchess, and their children, having presented 
 themselves at the shrine, are, by a form of 
 banishment in dumb-shew expressed towards 
 them by the Cardinal and the state of Ancona, 
 banished. During all which ceremony, this 
 ditty is sung, to very solemn musick, 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 • Ou this song, in the 4to. of 1C23, is the following marginal 
 note ; " the author disclaims this ditty to be his."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 251 
 
 O, worthy of worthiest name, adorn'd in this 
 
 manner, 
 Lead bravely thy forces on, under war's warlike 
 
 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 thy 
 
 powers ; 
 Triumphant conquest crown thy head, and blessings 
 pour down showers .' 
 
 First PiL. Here's a strange turn of state! who 
 would have thought 
 So great a lady would have match'd herself 
 Unto so mean a person ? yet the cardinal 
 Bears himself much* too cruel. 
 Second Pil. They are banish'd. 
 First Pil. But 1 would ask what power hath this 
 state 
 Of Ancona, to determine of a free prince ? 
 
 Second Pil. They are a free state, sir, and her 
 brother shew'd 
 How that the Pope fore-hearing of her looseness, 
 Hath seiz'd into the protection of the church 
 The dukedom, which she held as dowager. 
 First Pil. But by what justice? 
 Second Pil. Sural think by none, 
 Only her brother's instigation. 
 
 * much] Omitted in the 4to. of 1640^
 
 252 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Fi RST PiL. What was it with such violence he took 
 Off from her finger ? 
 
 Second Pil. 'Twas her wedding-ring, 
 Which he vow'd shortly he would sacrifice 
 To his revenge. 
 
 FfRST Pil. Alas, Antonio ! 
 If that a man be thrust into a well, 
 No matter who sets hand to't, his own weight 
 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 Dutchess, Antonio, Children, Cariola, 
 and Servants. 
 
 Dutch. Banish'd Ancoua ! 
 
 Ant. Yes, you see what power 
 Lightens in great men's breath. 
 
 Dutch. Is all our train 
 Shrunk to this poor remainder ? 
 
 Ant. These poor men,* 
 Which have got little in your service, vow 
 To take your fortune : but your wiser buntings, 
 Now they are fledg'd, are gone. 
 
 Dutch. They have done wisely. 
 This puts me in mind of death : physicans thus, 
 With their hands full of money, use to give o'er 
 
 * These poor meii] The 4to. of 1G40, " these are poor men."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 253 
 
 Their patients.* 
 
 Ant. Right the fashion of the world : 
 From decay'd fortunes every flatterer shrinks ; 
 Men cease to build where the foundation sinks. 
 Dutch. I had a very strange dream to night. 
 Ant. What was't^f 
 
 Dutch. Me thought I wore my coronet of state, 
 And on a sudden all the diamonds 
 Were chang'd to pearls. 
 
 Ant. My interpretation 
 Is, you'll weep shortly ; for to me the pearls 
 Do signify your tears. 
 
 Dutch. The birds that live i'th' field 
 On the wild l)eiiefit of nature, J live 
 Happier than we ; for they may chuse their mates, 
 And carol their sweet pleasures to the spring. 
 Enter Bosola with a letter. 
 Bos. You are happily o'erta'cn. 
 
 * physicians thus, 
 
 With their hands full of money, use to give o'er 
 Their patients'] Cited by the commeDtators on Shakespeare, to 
 defend the reading" i/iciie" in tlie following passage oiTimm of 
 Athens, under the idea that Webster imitated it ; 
 " His friends, like physicians. 
 Thrive, give him over." — Act III. Sc. 3. 
 t was't] The 4to. of 1640, " is't." 
 X The tnrds that live i'th' field 
 
 On the wild benefit of nature] ' ' Think how compassionate 
 the creatures of the field that onely live on the wilde benefits of Na- 
 ture, are unto their yong ones." — Middleton's Any thing for a 
 quiet life, 16C2, Sig. E 4.
 
 254 THE DUTCHESS or malfi. 
 
 Dutch. From my brother? 
 
 Bos. Yes, from the lord Ferdinand, your brother, 
 All love and safety. 
 
 Dutch. 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. 
 Send Antonio to me ; I want his head in a business. 
 
 [Reads the letter. 
 A politick equivocation ! 
 
 He doth not want your counsel, but your head ; 
 That is, he cannot sleep till you be dead. 
 And here's another pitfall that's strew'd o'er 
 With roses ; mark it, 'tis a cunning one ; 
 / stand engaged/or your husband, for several debts at 
 Naples : let not that trouble him ,- / had rather have 
 his heart than his money : 
 And I believe so too. 
 
 Bos. What do you believe ? 
 
 Dutch. 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. 
 
 Bos. Will you reject that noble and free league 
 Of amity and love, which I present you ? 
 
 * like to calm, tveatherl The 4to. of 1640, " like to t/ie calm 
 weather."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 255 
 
 Dutch. Their league is like that of some politick 
 kings, 
 Only to make themselves of strength and power 
 To be our after-ruin : tell them so. 
 
 Bos. And what from you ? 
 
 Ant. Thus tell him ; I will not come. 
 
 Bos. And what of this ? 
 
 Akt. My brothers have dispers'd 
 Blood-hounds abroad ; which till I hear are muzzled, 
 No truce, though hatch *d with ne'er such politick 
 
 skill, 
 Is safe, that hangs upon our enemies' will. 
 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. 
 
 Dutch. 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 pari : 
 Heaven hath a hand in't ; but no otherwise, 
 Than as some curious artist takes in sunder 
 A clock, or watch, when it is out of frame, 
 To bring't in better order. 
 
 Dutch. I know not which is best, 
 To see you dead, or part with you. Farewell, boy:
 
 256 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Thou art happy, that thou hast not understanding 
 To know thy misery; for all our wit 
 And reading brings us to a truer sense 
 Of sorrow. In the eternal church, sir, 
 I do hope we shall not part thus. 
 
 Ant. O, be of comfort ! 
 Make patience a noble fortitude, 
 And think not how unkindly we are us'd : 
 Man, like to cassia,* is prov'd best, being bruis'd. 
 
 Dutch. Must I, like to a slave-born Russian,! 
 Account it praise to suffer tyranny ? 
 And yet, O heaven, thy heavy hand is m't ! 
 I have seen my little boy oft scourge his top. 
 And compar'd myself to't : nought made me e'er 
 Go right but heaven's scourge-stick. 
 
 Ant. Do not weep : 
 Heaven fashion'd us of nothing ; and we strive 
 To bring ourselves to nothing. Farewell, Cariola, 
 And tl)y 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. 
 
 Dutch. 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 turn'd to a heavy lump of lead, 
 
 * Man, like to casiia, &c.] See note f p. 11. 
 f Russian] The 4to. of 1C40, " ruffian."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 257 
 
 With which I sound my danger: fare you well. 
 
 [Exeunt Antonio and his son. 
 Dutch. My laurel is all wither'd. 
 
 Cari. Look, madam, what a troop of armed men 
 Make toward us. 
 
 Enter Bosola, with a guard, wearing vizards. 
 
 Dutch. O, they are very welcome ! 
 When fortune's wheel is over-charg'd with princes. 
 The weight makes it move swift : 1 would have my 
 
 ruin 
 Be sudden. I am your adventure, am I not ? 
 
 Bos. You are : you must see your husband no more. 
 
 Dutch. 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 
 Out of the corn, or that which doth allure them 
 To the nets ? you have hearken'd to the last too much. 
 
 Dutch. O misery! like to a rusty o'er-charg'd 
 cannon, 
 Shall I never fly in pieces? Come, to what prison ? 
 
 Bos. To none. 
 
 Dutch. Whither then ? 
 
 Bos, To your palace. 
 
 Dutch. 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. 
 
 DuiCH. Pity! 
 
 VOL. 1. ^
 
 258 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFl. 
 
 With such a pity men preserve alive 
 
 Pheasants and quails, vi'hen they are not fat enough 
 
 To be eaten. 
 
 Bos. These are your children ? 
 
 Dutch. Yes. 
 
 Bos. Can they prattle ? 
 
 Dutch. No: 
 But I intend, since they vpere born accurs'd. 
 Curses shall be their first language. 
 
 Bos. FiC; madam, 
 Forget this base, low fellow. 
 
 Dutch. Were I a man, 
 I'd beat that counterfeit face into thy other. 
 
 Bos. One of no birth. 
 
 Dutch. Say that he was born mean, 
 Man is most happy when's own actions 
 Be arguments and examples of his virtue. 
 
 Bos. A barren, beggarly virtue. 
 
 Dutch. I prithee who is greatest? can you tell? 
 Sad tales befit my woe : I'll tell you one. 
 A salmon, as she swam unto the sea. 
 Met with a dog-fish, who encounters her 
 With this rough language ; why art thou so bold 
 To mix thyself with our high state of floods,* 
 Being no eminent courtier, but one 
 That for the calmest, and fresh time o'th' year 
 
 * To mix thyself with our high itate of floods'] From Shakespeare ; 
 *' Where it shall mingle with the state of floods." 
 
 Second part of Henry IV. Act V. Sc. 2-
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 259 
 
 Dost live in shallow rivers, rank'st thyself 
 With silly smelts and shrimps ? and darest thou 
 Pass by our dog-ship without reverence ? 
 O, quoth the salmon, sister, be at peace : 
 Thank Jupiter, we both have past the net! 
 Our value never can be truly known. 
 Till in the fisher's basket we be shown : 
 r 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 valu'd high, when th' are most wretched. 
 But come, whither you please. 1 am arm'd 'gainst 
 
 misery ; 
 Bent to all sways of the oppressor's will : 
 There's no deep valley but near some great hill. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV.— SCENE I. 
 
 Enter Ferdinand and Bosola. 
 
 Ferd. How doth our sister dutchess bear herself 
 In her imprisonment ? 
 
 Bos. Nobly: I'll describe her. 
 She's sad, as one long* us'd 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 : 
 
 * long'] Omitted in the 4to. of 1640.
 
 260 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 You may discern the shape of loveliness 
 
 More perfect in her tears than in her smiles : 
 
 She will muse four hours together; and her silence, 
 
 Methinks, expresseth more than if she spake. 
 
 Ferd. Her melancholy seems to be fortified 
 With a strange disdain. 
 
 Bos. 'Tis so ; and this restraint, 
 Like English maslives 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. 
 
 lExit. 
 Enter Dutchess. 
 
 Bos. All comfort to your grace. 
 
 Dutch. I will have none. 
 Pray thee, why dost thou wrap thy poison'd pills 
 In gold and sugar? 
 
 Bos. Your elder brother, the lord Ferdinand, 
 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. 
 
 Dutch. At his pleasure. 
 Take hence the lights ; he's come.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 261 
 
 Enter Ferdinand. 
 
 Ferd. Where are you ? 
 
 Dutch. Here, sir. 
 
 Ferd. This darkness suits you well. 
 
 Dutch. I would ask you pardon. 
 
 Ferd. You have it ; 
 For I account it the honorabl'st revenge. 
 Where I may kill, to pardon. Where are your cubs ? 
 
 Dutch. Whom? 
 
 Ferd. Call them your children, 
 For though our national law* distinguish bastards 
 From true legitimate issue, compassionate nature 
 Makes them all equal. 
 
 Dutch. Do you visit me ibr this? 
 You violate a sacrament o'th' church 
 Shall make you howl in hell for't. 
 
 Ferd. It had been well, 
 Could you have liv'd 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 maris hand. 
 To which you have vow'd much love ; the ring upon't 
 You gave. 
 
 Dutch. I affectionately kiss it. 
 
 * Fur though PUT national law, &c.] So our author again in 
 The Devil's Law-case, Act IV. Sc. 2 ; 
 
 " For though our civil law makes difiFerence 
 
 'Tween the base and the legitimate, 
 
 Compassiormte nature makes them equal." j
 
 262 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Ferd. Pray do, and bury the print of it in your 
 heart. 
 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 ov/'d it ; you shall see 
 Whether he can aid you. 
 
 Dutch. You are very cold : 
 I fear you are not well after your travel. 
 Ha! lights! O, horrible! 
 
 Ferd. Let her have lights enough. [Exit. 
 
 Dutch. What witchcraft doth he practise, that 
 he hath left 
 A dead man's hand here ? 
 
 [Here is discovered, behind a traverse,* the 
 ariijicial figures of Antonio and his 
 children, appearing as if they tvere 
 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. 
 
 Dutch. There is not between heaven and earth, f 
 one wish 
 I stay for after this: it wastes me more 
 
 * traverse"] See note * p. 145. 
 t earth'] The 4to. of 1640, " the earth."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 263 
 
 Than were't my picture, fashion'd out of wax, 
 Stuck with a magical needle, and then buried 
 In some foul dunghill ; and yond's an excellent 
 
 property 
 For a tyrant, which I would account mercy. 
 
 Bos. What's that? 
 
 Dutch. If they would bind me to that lifeless 
 trunk. 
 And let me freeze to death. 
 
 Bos. Come, you must live. 
 
 Dutch. That's the greatest torture souls feel in 
 hell. 
 In hell, that they must live, and cannot die. 
 Portia, I'll new kindle thy coals again, 
 And revive the rare and almost dead example 
 Of a loving wife. 
 
 Bos. O fie! despair? remember 
 You are a christian. 
 
 Dutch. 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 eye-hd. 
 
 Dutch. 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 ? 
 I account this world a tedious theatre, 
 For I do play a part in't 'gainst my will.
 
 264 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Bos. Come, be of comfort; I will save your life. 
 
 Dutch. Indeed I have not leisure to tend 
 So small a business. 
 
 Bos. Now, by my life, I pity you. 
 
 Dutch. Thou art a fool then, 
 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. 
 
 Dutch. I would thou wert hang'd for the horrible 
 curse 
 Thou hast given me : I shall shortly grow one 
 Of the miracles of pity. I'll go pray ; 
 No, I'll go curse. 
 
 Bos. O, fie ! 
 
 Dutch. I could curse the stars. 
 
 Bos. O, fearful ! 
 
 Dutch. And those three smiling seasons of the 
 year 
 Into a Russian winter : nay, the world 
 To its first chaos. 
 
 Bos. Look you, the stars shine still. 
 
 Dutch. O, but you must 
 Remember, my curse hath a great way to go: — 
 Plagues, that make lanes through largest families. 
 Consume them ! 
 
 * itself ] The three earliest 4tos. " it"
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 265 
 
 Bos. Fie, lady. 
 Dutch. Let them like tyrants 
 Never be remember'd, but for the ill they have done ; 
 Let all the zealous prayers of mortified 
 Churchmen forget them ! 
 Bos. O, uncharitable ! 
 
 Dutch. 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 plagu'd 
 in art : 
 These presentations are but fram'd in wax, 
 By the curious master in that quality, 
 Vincentio Laurio'a, and she takes them 
 For true substantial bodies. 
 Bos. Why do you do this ? 
 Ferd. To bring her to despair. 
 Bos. 'Faith, end here, 
 And go no farther in your cruelty; 
 Send her a penitential garment to put on 
 Next to her delicate skin, and furnish her 
 With beads, and prayer-books. 
 
 Ferd. Damn her! that body of hers, 
 While that my blood ran pure in't, was more worth 
 Than that which thou wouldst comfort, caU'd a soul. 
 I will send her masks of common courtesans, 
 Have her meat serv'd up by bawds and ruffians.
 
 266 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 And, 'cause she'll needs be mad, I am resolv'd 
 
 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. 
 The business shall be comfort. 
 
 Ferd. Very likely ; 
 Thy pity is nothing of kin to thee. Antonio 
 Lurks about Milan : thou shall 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 II. 
 
 Enter Dutchess and Cariola. 
 
 Dutch. What hideous noise was that? 
 
 Cari. 'Tis the wild consort* 
 Of madmen, lady, which your tyrant brother 
 Hath plac'd about your lodging : this tyranny, 
 
 • consort'} See note on Northward Ho, Act II. Sc. 1.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALTI. 267 
 
 I think, was never practis'd till this hour. 
 
 Dutch. Indeed I thank him : nothing but noise 
 and folly 
 Can keep me in my right wits ; whereas reason 
 And silence make me stark mad. Sit down ; 
 Discourse to me some dismal tragedy. 
 
 Cari. O, 'twill increase your melancholy. 
 
 Dutch. Thou art deceiv'd : 
 To hear of greater grief, would lessen mine. 
 This is a prison ? 
 
 Caki. Yes, but you shall live 
 To shake this durance off. 
 
 Dutch. Thou art a fool: 
 The robin-red-breast and the nightingale 
 Never live long in cages. 
 
 Cari. Pray, dry your eyes: 
 What think you of, madam ? 
 
 Dutch. Of nothing; 
 When I muse thus, I sleep. 
 
 Cari. Like a madman, with your eyes open? 
 
 Dutch. Dost thou think we shall know one 
 another 
 In th' other world ? 
 
 Cari. Yes, out of question, 
 
 Dutch. O, that it were possible we might 
 But hold some two days' conference with the dead ! 
 From them I should learn somewhat, I am sure, 
 I never shall know here. I'll tell thee a miracle ; 
 I am not mad yet, to my cause of sorrow : 
 Th' heaven o'er my head seems made of molten brass,
 
 268 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 The earth of flaming sulphur, yet I am uot mad. 
 I am acquainted with sad misery, 
 As the tann'd galley-slave is with his oar ; 
 Necessity makes me suffer constantly, 
 And custom makes it easy. Who do I look like 
 now ? 
 
 Cari. Like to your picture in the gallery, 
 A deal of life in shew, but none in practice ; 
 Or rather like some reverend monument 
 Whose ruins are even pitied. 
 
 Dutch. Very proper; 
 And fortune seems only to have her eye-sight, 
 To behold my tragedy. How now! 
 What noise is that? 
 
 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 
 With several sorts of madmen, which wild object 
 Being full of change and sport, forc'd him to laugh, 
 And so th' imposthume broke : the self-same cure 
 The duke intends on you. 
 
 Dutch. 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, 
 
 * them] The 4to. of 1640, " me," a misprint for " 'em."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALPI. 269 
 
 That in his works said, such a day o'th' month 
 Should be the day of doom, and failing oft, 
 Ran mad ; an English tailor, craz'd i'th' brain 
 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 employ'd him in each 
 
 morning ;t 
 A farmer too, an excellent knave in grain, 
 Mad 'cause he was hinder'd transportation ; 
 And let one broker that's mad loose to these, 
 You'd think the devil were among them. 
 
 Dutch. Sit, Cariola. Let them loose when you 
 
 please. 
 For I am chain'd to endure all your tyranny. 
 
 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 ! 
 
 • fashions'] The 4to. of 1640, "fashion." 
 
 f Or " howdoyou,"she employ'd him in each morning] InBrome's 
 Northern Lasse, 1632, Mistress Fitchew's gentleman-usher is 
 named How-dee ; see, as illustrative of our text, Act I. Sc. 6. of 
 that amusing comedy. So too Nabbes ; " and thou a Ladies 
 Gentleman Usher, a bundle of complementall follyes stitcht up 
 with fiow-dees." CDVent-Gardtn, 1638, Sig. D.
 
 270 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 As ravens, screech-owls, bulls, and bears, 
 
 We'll bell, and bawl our parts, 
 Till irksome noise have cloy'd your ears. 
 
 And corrasiv'd* your hearts. 
 At last, whenas our quire wants breath. 
 
 Our bodies being blest. 
 We'll sing, like swans, to welcome death. 
 
 And die in love and rest. 
 
 First Madman. Doom's-day not come yet! 111 
 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. 
 
 Second Madman. Hell is a mere glass-house, 
 where the devils are continually blowing upwomen'st 
 souls on hollow irons, and the fire never goes out. 
 
 Third Madman. I will lie with every woman in 
 my parish the tenth night ; I will tythe them over 
 like hay-cocks. 
 
 Fourth Madman. Shall my pothecary out-go 
 me, because I am a cuckold ? I have found out his 
 roguery ; he makes allum of his wife's urine, and 
 sells it to Puritans that have sore throats with over- 
 straining. 
 
 * corrasiv'd'j An old form of " corrosiv'd." The substantive 
 occurs ia the next page. 
 
 f women's] The 4to. of 1640, " men's."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 271 
 
 First Madman. I have skill in heraldry. 
 Second Madman. Hast? 
 
 First Madman. You do give for your crest a 
 woodcock's head, with the brains picked out on't ; 
 you are a very ancient gentleman. 
 
 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 shew a sight should make all the women here 
 call me mad doctor. 
 
 First Madman. What's he, a rope-maker? 
 Second Madman. No, no, no, a snuffling knave, 
 that while he shews the tombs, will have his hand in 
 a wench's placket. 
 
 Third Madman. Woe to the caroch, that 
 brought home my wife from the mask at three 
 a'clock in the morning ! it had a large featherbed 
 in it. 
 
 Fourth Madman. I have pared the devil's nails 
 forty times, roasted them in raven's eggs, and cured 
 agues with them. 
 
 Third Madman. Get me three hundred milch 
 bats, to make possets to procure sleep. 
 
 Fourth Madman. All the college may throw
 
 272 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 their caps at me ; I have made a soap-boiler costive : 
 it was my masterpiece. 
 
 [Here the dance, consisting of eight madmen, 
 with music answerable thereunto ; after 
 which, Bosola, like an old man, enters. 
 Dutch. Is he mad too ? 
 Serv. Pray, question him. I'll leave you. 
 
 [Exeunt Servant and Madmen, 
 Bos. I am come to make thy tomb. 
 Dutch. Ha! my tomb ! 
 Thou speak'st, as if 1 lay upon my death-bed, 
 Gasping for breath : dost thou perceive me sick ? 
 Bos. Yes, and the more dangerously, since ihy 
 
 sickness is insensible. 
 Dutch. Thou art not mad sure : dost know me ? 
 Bos. Yes. 
 
 Dutch. Who am I ? 
 
 Bos. Thou art a box of worm-seed, at best but a 
 salvatory of green mummy. What's this flesh? a 
 little crudded* milk, fantastical pufF-paste. Our bo- 
 dies are weaker than those paper-prisons boys use to 
 keep flies in ; more contemptible, since ours is to 
 preserve earth-worms. Didst thou everf see a lark 
 in a cage ? such is the soul in the body : this world 
 is like her little turf of grass, and the heaven o'er 
 our heads, like her looking-glass, only gives us a 
 miserable knowledge of the small compass of our 
 prison. 
 
 * crudded'] The 4to. of 1640, « curded." 
 t ever] The 4to. of 1640, " never."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 273 
 
 Dutch, Am not T thy dutch^ss ? 
 
 Bos. Thou art some great woman sure, for riot 
 begins to sit on thy forehead (clad in gray hairs) 
 twenty years sooner than on a merry milk-maid'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 bed- 
 fellow. 
 
 Dutch. I am Dutchess of Malfi still. 
 
 Bos. That makes thy sleeps so broken : 
 Glories, like glow-worms, afar off shine bright, 
 But look'd to near, have neither heat nor light. f 
 
 Dutch. Thou art very plain. 
 
 Bos. My trade is to flatter the dead, not the 
 living ; I am a tomb-maker. 
 
 Dutch. And thou comest to make my tomb? 
 
 Bos. Yes. 
 
 Dutch. Let me be a little merry : of what stuff 
 wilt thou make it ? 
 
 Bos. Nay, resolve me first, of what fashion ? 
 
 Dutch. Why, do we grow fantastical in our 
 death-bed ? do we affect fashion in the grave ? 
 
 Bos. iMost 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 tooth-ache : they are 
 
 • her] The 4to. of 1C40, " his." 
 f Glories, like glow-worms, Hfc] See note •]).!] 3. 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 not carved with their eyes fixed upon the stars ; but 
 as their minds where wholly bent upon the world, 
 the self-same way they seem to turn their faces. 
 
 Dutch. Let me know fully therefore the effect 
 Of this thy dismal preparation, 
 This talk, fit for a charnel. 
 
 Bos. Now I shall: 
 Enter Executioners, w;i</i a coffin, cords, and a bell. 
 Here is a present from your princely brothers, 
 And may it arrive welcome, for it brings 
 Last benefit, last sorrow. 
 
 Dutch. Let me see it: 
 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! 
 
 Dutch. Peace; it affrights not me. 
 
 Bos. I am the common bellman, 
 That usually is sent to condemn'd persons 
 The night before they suffer. 
 
 Dutch. Even now thou said'st 
 Thou wast a tomb-maker. 
 
 Bos. 'Twas to bring you 
 By degrees to mortification. Listen. 
 
 Hark, now every thing is still. 
 
 The screech-owl, and the whistler shrill. 
 
 Call upon our dame aloud. 
 
 And bid her quickly don her shroud !
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 275 
 
 Much you had of land and rent; 
 
 Your length in clay's now competent : 
 
 A long war disturb'd your mind ; 
 
 Here your perfect peace is sign'd. 
 
 Of what is't fools make such vain keeping ? 
 
 Sin their conception, their birth weeping, 
 
 Their hfe 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,) 
 
 A crucifix let bless your neck : 
 
 'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day ; 
 
 End your groan, and come away. 
 
 Cari. Hence, villains, tyrants, murderers ! alas! 
 What will you do with my lady ? — Call for help. 
 
 Dutch. To whom, to our next neighbours? they 
 are mad-folks. 
 
 Bos. Remove that noise. 
 
 Dutch. 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. 
 
 Dutch. 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 ?
 
 276 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Bos. Strangling ; here are your executioners. 
 
 Dutch. I forgive them : 
 The apoplexy, catarrh, or cough o'th' lungs, 
 Would do as much as they do. 
 
 Bos. Doth not death fright you ? 
 
 Dutch. Who would be afraid on't, 
 Knowing to meet such excellent company 
 In th' other world ? 
 
 Bos. Yet, methinks. 
 The manner of your death should much afflict you ; 
 This cord should terrify you. 
 
 Dutch. 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, 
 So I were out of your whispering. Tell my brothers. 
 That I perceive death, now I am well awake, 
 Best gift is they can give, or I can take. 
 I v/ould fain put off my last woman's fault, 
 I'd not be tedious to you. 
 
 ExECUT. We are ready. 
 
 Dutch. Dispose my breath how please you, but 
 my body 
 Bestow upon my women, will you ? 
 
 ExECUT. Yes.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 277 
 
 Dutch. Pull, and pull strongly, for your able 
 strength, 
 Must pull down heaven upon me : 
 Yet stay, heaven-gates are not so highly arch'd* 
 As princes't 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 the Dutchess.l 
 
 Bos. Where's the waiting-woman ? 
 
 * Yet stay, heaven gates are nut so highly arch'd 
 
 As princes' palaces, &c.] When Webster wrote this passage, 
 the following charming lines of Shakespeare were in his mind ; 
 " Stoop, boys : this gate 
 Instructs you how to adore the heavens, and bows you 
 To a morning's holy office: the gates of monarchs 
 Are arch'd so high, that gijints may jet through 
 And keep their impious turbands on, without 
 Good morrow to the sim.'' — Cymbeline, Act III. Sc. 3. 
 f princes'] The 4to. of 1640, "princely." 
 t " All the several parts of the dreadful apparatus with 
 which the dutchess's death is ushered in are not more remote 
 from the concf piious of ordinary vengeance than the strange 
 character of suffering which they seem to bring upon their 
 victim, is beyond the imagination of ordinary poets. As they 
 are not like inflictions of this life, so her language seems not of 
 this world. She has lived among horrors till she is become ' native 
 and endowed unto that element.' She speaks the dialect of 
 despair, her tongue has a smatch of Tartarus and the souls in 
 bale. What are ' Luke's iron crown,' the brazen bull of Peril- 
 lus, Procustes' bed, to the waxen images which counterfeit 
 death, to the wild masque of madmen, the tomb-maker, the bell-
 
 278 THE DUTCHESS Of MALFI. 
 
 Fetch her: some other strangle the children. 
 
 [Cariola and children brought in: they strangle 
 the children. 
 Look you there sleeps your mistress. 
 
 Cari. O, you are* damn'd 
 Perpetually for this! My turn is next ; 
 Is't not so order'd ? 
 
 Bos. Yes, andf I am glad 
 You are so well prepar'd for't. 
 
 Cari. You are deceiv'd, sir, 
 I am not prepared for't, I will not die ; 
 I will first I 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. 
 
 man, the living person's dirge, the mortification by degrees ! To 
 move a horror skilfully, to touch a soul to the quick, to lay upon 
 fear as much as it can bear, to wean and weary a life till it is 
 ready to drop, and then step in with mortal instruments to take 
 its last forfeit ; this only a Webster can do. Writers of an in- 
 ferior genius may ' upon horror's head horrors accumulate,' 
 but they cannot do this. They mistake quantity for qualit)', 
 they ' terrify babes with painted devils,' but they know not how a 
 soul is capable of being moved ; their terrors want dignity, their 
 affrightments are without decorum." C. Lamb, (Spec, of Eng. 
 Dram. Poets, p. 217.) 
 
 • youarel The 4to. of 1640, " thou art." 
 
 f and] Omitted in the 4to. of 1640. 
 X Jint] Omitted in the 4to. of 1640.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALl'I. 279 
 
 Cari. Let me but speak with the duke; I'll 
 discover 
 Treason to his person. 
 
 Bos. Delays : — throttle her. 
 
 ExECUT. She biles and scratches. 
 
 Cari. If you kill me now, 
 I am damn'd ; I have not been at confession 
 This two years. 
 
 Bos. When?* 
 
 Cari. I am quick with child. 
 
 Bos. Why then, 
 Your credit's sav'd. — Bear her into the next room ; 
 
 [They strangle Cariola, and carry out her body. 
 Let this lie still. 
 
 Enter Ferdinand. 
 
 Ferd. Is she dead ? 
 
 Bos. She is what 
 You'd have her. But here begin your pity : 
 
 [Shews the children 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 ; murther shrieks out: 
 The element of water moistens the earth. 
 But blood flies upwards and bedews the heavens. 
 
 * When] Is addressed by Bosola to the Executioners : our 
 old dramatists very often use the word, as here, to express im- 
 patience.
 
 280 
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Ferd. Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle: she 
 died young. 
 
 Bos. I think not so ; her infelicity 
 Seem'd to have years too many. 
 
 Ferd. She and I were twins; 
 And should I die this instant, I had liv'd 
 Her time to a minute. 
 
 Bos. It seems she was born first: 
 You have bloodily approv'd the ancient truth, 
 That kindred commonly do worse agree 
 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 
 Tf thou hadst borne her to some sanctuary ; 
 Or, bold in a good cause, oppos'd 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 ray dearest friend, and thou hast done't. 
 For let me but examine well the cause ; 
 What was the meanness of her match to me ? 
 Only I must confess I had a hope. 
 Had she conlinu'd widow, to have gain'd 
 An infinite mass of treasure by her death ; 
 And whatf was the main cause? her marriage, 
 That drew a stream of gall quite through my heart. 
 For thee, as we observe in tragedies 
 
 * innocence] The 4to. of 1640, " innocency," 
 t what'] The 4to. of 1623, " that."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 281 
 
 That a good actor many times is ours'd 
 For playing a villain's part, I hate thee for't, 
 And for my sake say ihou hast done much ill, 
 well. 
 
 Bos. Let me quicken your memory, for I perceive 
 You are falling into ingratitude ; I challenge 
 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 murther. 
 
 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 1 her judge ? 
 Did any ceremonial form of law. 
 Doom her to not-being ? did a complete jury 
 Deliver her conviction up i'th* court? 
 Where shalt thou find this judgment register'd, 
 Unless in hell ? See, like a bloody fool, 
 Th' hast forfeited thy life, and thou shalt die for't. 
 
 Bos. The office 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, 
 
 * teiitence'] The 4to. of 1640, '• service."
 
 282 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFl. 
 
 Not to devour the corpse, but to discover 
 The horrid murther.* 
 
 Bos. You, not I, shall quake for't. 
 
 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, 
 
 • The v'olf shall find her grave, and icrape it up, 
 
 Not to devour the corpie, but to dhccver 
 
 The horrid murther.'\ A common superstition : " For the 
 same monetb next after that Adrian and Justinian had buried 
 the dead body of De Laurier, behold a huge and ravening Wolf 
 (being lately aroused from the adjacent vast woods) seeking up 
 and down for his prey, came into Adrian's orchard next adjoyn- 
 ing to his house (purposely sent thither by God as a Minister 
 of his sacred justice and revenge) who senting some dead 
 carrion (which indeed was the dead Corps of De Laurier, that 
 was but sballowly buried there in the ground) he fiercely with^his 
 paws and nose tears up the earth, and at last pulls and draggs 
 it up, and there till an hour after the break of day remains de- 
 vouring and eating up of the flesh of his Arms, Legs, Thighs and 
 Buttocks. But (as God would have it) he never touched any 
 part of his face, but leaves it fully undisfigured." God's Re- 
 venge against Murther, Book VI. Hist. 27, p. 407, ed. 1670.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI, 283 
 
 Rotten, and rotting others ; and your vengeance, 
 Like two chain'd bullets,* still goes arm in arm. 
 You 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 : 
 I am angry with myself, now that I wake. 
 
 Ferd. Get thee into some unknown part o'th' 
 world. 
 That I may never see thee.f 
 
 Bos. Let me know 
 Wherefore I should be thus neglected ? Sir, 
 I serv'd your tyranny, and rather strove. 
 To satisfy yourself, than all the world : 
 And though I loath'd the evil, yet I lov'd 
 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 ! 
 
 * Like two chain'd bullets] Perhaps Heywood remembered 
 this passage, when he wrote the following; 
 " My friend and I 
 Like two chain-bullets, side by side, will fly 
 Thorow the jawes of death." 
 
 A Challenge for Beautie, 1636, Sig. D. 
 f That I may never see t/iee] In composing this scene, Webster 
 seems to have had an eye to that between John and Hubert in 
 Shakespeare's King John, Act IV. Sc. 2.
 
 284 THE DUTCHESS Of MALFI. 
 
 While with vain liopes 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 
 
 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. 
 
 Dutch. Antonio!* 
 
 Bos. Yes, madam, he is living ; 
 The dead bodies you saw, were but feign'd statues ; 
 He's reconcil'd to your brothers ; the Pope hath 
 
 wrought 
 The attonement. 
 
 Dutch. Mercy! [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 
 
 • The idea of making the Dutchess speak a few words after 
 she has been strangled, was doubtless taken from the death of 
 Desdemona in Shakespeare's Othello, Act V.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 285 
 
 That shews us hell ! That we cannot he suflFer'd 
 
 To do good when we have a mind to it ! 
 
 This is manly sorrow ; 
 
 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? 
 
 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 
 
 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 v.— 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, 
 
 • last'] Omitted in the 4to. of 1640.
 
 286 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Under whom you hold certain land in cheat, 
 Much 'gainst his noble nature hath been mov'd 
 To seize those lands, and some of his dependants 
 Are at this instant making it their suit 
 To be invested in your revenues. 
 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 heretick 
 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, 
 With some demesnes, of late in the possession 
 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 ia private : here's the cardinal's mistress. 
 Enter Julia. 
 
 Julia. My lord, I am grown your poor petitioner,
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 287 
 
 And should be an ill begp^ar, had I not 
 A great nian's letter here, the cardinal's, 
 To court you in my favour. 
 Pes. He entreats for you 
 The citadel of St. Bennet, that belong'd 
 To the banish'd Bologna. 
 Julia. Yes. 
 
 Pes. I could not have thought of a friend I 
 could rather 
 Pleasure with it : 'tis yours. 
 Jui.iA. Sir, I thank you ; 
 And he shall know how doubly I am engag'd 
 Both in your gift, and speediness of giving, 
 Which makes your grant the greater. [Exit. 
 
 Ant. 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 ? 
 It was Antonio's land ; not forfeited 
 By course of law, but ravish'd from his throat 
 By the cardinal's entreaty : it were not fit 
 I should bestow so main a piece of wrong 
 Upon my friend ; 'tis a gratification 
 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
 
 288 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Look ruddier upon me ? I am glad 
 
 This land, ta'en from the owner by such wrong, 
 
 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 nobler giver. 
 
 Delio. You instruct me well. 
 
 Ant. Why, here's a man now, would fright im- 
 pudence 
 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 ? 
 
 An t. 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 dutchess. 
 It may be that the sudden apprehension 
 Of danger, for I'll go in mine own shape, 
 When he shall see it fraight* with love and duty, J 
 
 • fraight'] i. e. fraught : so Brathwait ; 
 
 " And shall mTin fraight with knowledge and wi'.h reason, 
 Act against God and Nature such high treason?" 
 
 The Honest Ghost, 1658, p. 9. 
 See too the lines addressed to Watson in my ed. of Peele's 
 Works, vol. ii. p. 164.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 289 
 
 May draw the poison out of him, and work 
 A friendly reconcilement: if it fail, 
 Yet it shall rid me of this infamous calling; 
 For better fali once, than be ever fallino- 
 
 Delio. Ill second you in all danger; and, 
 hnwe'er. 
 My life keeps rank with yours. 
 
 Ant. You are still ray lov'd and best friend. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 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? 
 I need a dictionary to't ? 
 
 Doc. I'll tell you.* 
 
 * /'// tell you, (Sfc] "Ceste Mnladie, comme tesmoigne Aetius 
 au sixiesme liure chapitre ii. & Paulus au 3. liu. chap. 16. & 
 autres modernes, est une espece de melancholid, niais estrange- 
 ment noire & vehemente. Car ceux qui en sont atteints sortent 
 de leurs maisons au mois de Feurier, contrefouL les loups pres- 
 ques en toute chose, & toute nuict ne font que courir par les 
 
 coemideres ct autour des sepulchres 
 
 vn de ces melancholiques Lycanthropes, que 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 In those* that are possess'd with't there o'erflows 
 Such melancholy humour, they imagine 
 Themselves to be transformed into wolves; 
 Steal forth to church-yards in the dead of night, 
 And dig dead bodies up : as two nights since 
 One met the duke 'bout midnight in a lane 
 Behind St. Mark's church, with the leg of a man 
 Upon his shoulder, and he howl'd fearfully ; 
 Said he was a wolf, only the difference 
 Was, a wolf's skin wasf hairy on the outside, 
 His on the inside; bade them take their swords, 
 Rip lip his flesh, and try : straight I was sent for. 
 And having minister'd unto him, found his grace 
 Very well rccover'd. 
 Pes. I am glad on't. 
 / 
 
 nous appelloDs Loups garoux il portoit lors 
 
 sicr ses espaules la cuisse entiere & lajambe d'vn mnrt .... 
 
 II y eust aussi, comme recite Job Fincel au 2. 
 
 liu. des Miracles, vn villageois pres de Pauie, I'an mil cinq cens 
 quarante & vn, lequel pensoit estre Loup, & assaillit plusieurs 
 hommes par les champes : en tuaqueiques vns. En fin, prins & 
 non sans giande difficulte, il asseura J'ermement, qu'il estoit loup, 
 ^ qu'il n'y auoit autre difference, iinon que les loups ordinairement 
 estoyent velut, dehors, et lui I'estoit entre cuir et chair. Quelques 
 vns trop inhumains & loups par effect, voulans experimenter la 
 verite du faict, lui firent plusieurs raillades sur les bras & sur les 
 jambes: puis connoissans leur faute, & 1' innocence de ce pauure 
 melancliolique, le commirent aux chirurgiens pour le penser, 
 entre les mains desquels il mourut quelques iours apres." Gou- 
 lart. — Histoires admirahles et memorables denostre temps, recueillies 
 de plusieurs autheurs, &c. torn. I. p. 336-337. ed. 1620. 
 
 * those] The 4to. of 1640, " these." 
 
 t was] The 4to. of 1640, " is."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 291 
 
 Doc. Yet not without some fear 
 Of a relapse. If he grow to his fit again, 
 I'll go a nearer way to work with him* 
 Than ever Paracelsus dream'd of; if 
 They'll give me leave, I'll buffet his madness out of 
 
 him. 
 Stand aside ; he comes. 
 
 Enter Ferdinand, Cardinal, Malatestk, 
 a7id Bosola. 
 
 Ferd. Leave me. 
 
 Mal. Why doth your lordship lovef this so- 
 litariness ? 
 
 Ferd. Eagles commonly fly alone: they are 
 crows, daws, and starlings that flock together. 
 Look, what's that follows me? 
 
 Mal. Nothing, my lord. 
 
 Ferd. Yes. 
 
 Mal. 'Tis your shadow. 
 
 Ferd. Stay it; let it not haunt me. 
 
 Mal. Impossible, if you move, and the sun shine. 
 
 Ferd. I will throttle it. 
 
 Mal. 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, I mean to carry a bribe ; for, look you, good 
 gifts evermore make way for the worst persons. 
 
 Pes. Rise, good my lord. 
 
 Ferd. I am studying the art of patience. 
 
 * I'll go a nearer way to icork with h'lrn] This line is found only 
 in tbe 4to. of 1623. 
 
 f /ove] Tlie 4to. of 1640 " use."
 
 292 TliE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 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 lime ; — (the 
 patient'st man i'th' world match me for an expe- 
 riment) — and I'll crawl after like a sheep-biter. 
 
 Card. Force him up. 
 
 Ferd. Use me well, you were best. What I 
 have done, I have done : I'll confess nothing.* 
 
 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 doctor. 
 
 Ferd. Let me have his beard sawed oflF, 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 sa- 
 lamander's skin, to keep you 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. 
 
 • What I have done, J have done : I'll cniifesi nothing] Like 
 lago's; 
 
 " Demand me nothing ; what you Jtnow, you know ; 
 From this time forth 1 never will speak word." 
 
 Othello, Act V. laat scene.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 293 
 
 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. 
 
 Feud. Can you fetch your frisks, sir ! I will 
 stamp him into a cullis, flea off his skin, to cover 
 one of the anatomies this rogue hath set i'th' cold 
 yonder in Barber-Chirurgeon's-hall. Hence, hence! 
 you are all of you like beasts for sacrifice : there's 
 nothing left of you, but tongue and belly, flattery 
 and lechery. [Exit. 
 
 Pes. Doctor, he did not fear you throughly. 
 
 Doc. True ; I was somewhat too forv/ard. 
 
 Bos. Mercy upon me, what a fatal judgment 
 Hath fal'n upon this Ferdinand ! 
 
 Pes. Knows your grace 
 What accident hath brought unto the prince 
 This strange distraction ? 
 
 Card. I must feign somewhat: — Thus they say 
 it grew. 
 You have heard it rumour'd for these many years. 
 None of our family dies but there is seen 
 
 • put off your gown] A piece of buffoonery, similar to that 
 with which the Grave-digger in Hamlet still amuses the gal- 
 leries, used to be practised here; for in the 4to. of 1708, the 
 Doctor, according to the stage-direction, " puts off his four 
 cloaks, one after another."
 
 294 THE nUTCHESS OF iMALFI- 
 
 The shape of an old woman, which is given 
 
 By tradition to us to have been murther'd 
 
 By her nephews, for her riches. Such a figure 
 
 One night, as the prince sate up late at's book, 
 
 Appear'd to him, when cryiiig out for help, 
 
 The gentleman of 's chamber, found his grace 
 
 All on a cold sweat, alter'd 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 Pescara, Malatesie, and Doctor. 
 Are you come ? so. — This fellow must not know 
 By any means I had intelligence 
 In our dutchess' death ; for, though I counsell'd it, 
 The full of all th' engagement* seem'd to grow 
 From Ferdinand. — Noav, sir, how fares our sister ? 
 I do not think but sorrow makes her look 
 Like to an oft-dy'd 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 tomb-stone o'er his bones, 
 
 * engagement] I'he 4to. of 1640, " agi-eement."
 
 THK DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 295 
 
 I'd make you what you would* be. 
 
 Bos. Any thing, 
 Give it met in a breath, and let me fly to't : 
 They that think long, small expedition win, 
 For musing much o'th' end, cannot begin. 
 Enter Julia. 
 
 Julia. Sir, will you come in to supper' 
 
 Card. I am busy ; leave me. 
 
 Julia. What an excellent shape hath that fellow ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Card. *Tis thus. Antonio lurks here in Milan: 
 Enquire him out, and kill him. While he lives. 
 Our sister cannot marry, and I have thought 
 Of an excellent match for her. Do this, and stile me 
 Thy advancement. 
 
 Bos. But| by what means shall I find him out? 
 
 Card, There is a gentleman call'd Delio 
 Here in the camp, that hath been long approv'd 
 His loyal friend. Set eye upon that fellow; 
 Follow him to mass ; may be Antonio, 
 Although he do account religion 
 But a school-name, for fashion of the world 
 May accompany him : or else go enquire 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 
 
 * would'] The 4to. of 1640, " shoiM." 
 t it me] The 4to. of 1640, " me it." 
 I But] Omitted in the 4to. of 1640.
 
 296 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI, 
 
 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 : 
 I would see that wretched thing, Antonio, 
 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 
 Not to have notice of the dutchess' death. 
 'Tis his cunning: I must follow his example; 
 There cannot be a surer way to trace 
 Than that of an old fox. 
 
 Enter Julia. 
 
 Julia. So, sir, you are well met. 
 
 Bos. How now ? 
 
 Julia. Nay, the doors are fast enough : 
 Now, sir, I will make you confess your treachery. 
 
 Bos. Treachery ! 
 
 Julia. Yes, confess to me 
 Which of my women 'twas you hir'd 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 suffer'd for thee so much pain, 
 
 • boughtl The 4t08. " brought."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 297 
 
 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 ! 
 
 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 familiar 
 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 
 In courtship cannot make you do amiss, 
 If you have a heart to do well. 
 Bos. You are very fair. 
 
 Julia. Nay, if you lay beauty to my charge, 
 I must plead unguilty. 
 
 Bos. Your bright eyes 
 Carry a quiver of darts in them, sharper 
 
 • kisting-comfitsl i. e. perfumed sugar-plums, to sweeten the 
 breath.
 
 298 THE DUTCHESS Ol' MALFI. 
 
 Than sun-beams. 
 
 Julia. You will mar me wiih commendation, 
 Put yourself to the charge of courting me, 
 Whereas now I woo you. 
 
 Bos. I have it, I will work upon this creature. — 
 Let us grow most amorously familiar : 
 If the great cardinal now should see me thus, 
 Would he not count me a villain? 
 
 Julia. No, he might count me a wanton. 
 Not lay a scruple of offence on you ; 
 For if I see, and steal a diamond. 
 The fault is not i'th' stone, but in me the thief 
 That purloins it. I am sudden with you : 
 We that are great women of pleasure, use to cut off 
 These uncertain wishes and unquiet longings. 
 And in an instant join the sweet delight 
 And the pretty excuse together. Had you been 
 
 i'th' street, 
 Under my chamber window, even there* 
 I should have courted you. 
 
 Bos. O, you are an excellent lady! 
 
 Julia. Bid me do somewhat for you presently. 
 To express I love you. 
 
 Bos. I will, and if you love me, 
 Fail not to effect it. 
 
 The cardinal is grown wondrous melancholy ; 
 Demand the cause, let him not put you off 
 
 * Under my chamber window, even there'\ This line is found 
 only in the 4to. of 1623.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 299 
 
 With feign'd excuse; discover the main ground on't. 
 
 Julia. Why would you know this? 
 
 Bos. I have depended on him, 
 And I hear that he is i'al'n in some disgrace 
 With the emperor ; if he be, like the mice 
 That forsake falling houses, I would shift 
 To other dependanee. 
 
 Julia. 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 ! 
 You are like some, cannot sleep in feather-beds, 
 But must have blocks for their pillows. 
 
 Bos. Will you do this ? 
 
 Julia. Cunningly. 
 
 Bos. To-morrow I'll expect th' intelligence. 
 
 Julia. To-morrow ! get you into my cabinet; 
 You shall have it with you. Do not delay me, 
 No more than I do you : I am like one 
 That is condemn'd ; I have my pardon promis'd, 
 But I would see it seal'd. Go, get you in : 
 You shall see me wind my tongue about his heart. 
 Like a skein of silk, [Exit Bosola. 
 
 Enter Cardinal and Servants. 
 
 Card. Wliere are you? 
 Sehv. Here. 
 
 Card. Let none upon your lives have conference 
 With the Prince Ferdinand, unless I know it :— 
 
 I
 
 300 TJIK DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 In this distraction he may reveal 
 
 The murder. Yond's my lingering consumption : 
 
 [Eieuiit Servants. 
 1 am weary of her, and by any means 
 Would be quit of. 
 
 Julia. How now, my lord, what ails you? 
 
 Card. Nothing. 
 
 Julia. O, you are much alter'd ! 
 Come, I must be your secretary, and remove 
 This lead from off your bosom: what's the matter? 
 
 Card. 1 may not tell you. 
 
 Julia. Are you so far in love with sorrow, 
 You cannot part with part of it ? or think you 
 I cannot love your grace, when you are sad, 
 As well as merry ? or do you suspect 
 I, that have been a secret to your heart 
 These many winters, cannot be the same 
 Unto your tongue ? 
 
 Card. Satisfy thy longing ; 
 The only way to make thee keep my counsel, 
 Is, not to tell thee.* 
 
 Julia. Tell your echo this, 
 Or flatterers, that like echoes still report 
 
 • The only way to make thee keep my counsel, 
 
 Is, TuH tn tell thee"] So Shakespeare, whom our author so 
 frequently imitates ; 
 
 " and for secrecy, 
 No lady closer ; for 1 well believe 
 Thou wilt uot utter what thou dost not know." 
 
 First part ni Henry IV. Act II. So. 5J.
 
 THE DUTCHKSS OF MALFI. 301 
 
 What they hear thoug^h most imperfect, and not me ; 
 For, if that yon be true unto yourself, 
 I'll know. 
 
 Card. Will you rack me ? 
 
 Julia. No, judgment shall 
 Draw it from you : it is an equal fault, 
 To tell one's secrets unto all or none. 
 
 Card. The first argues folly. 
 
 Julia. But the last tyranny. 
 
 Card. Very well ; why, imagine I have committed 
 Some secret deed, which I desire the world 
 May never hear of. 
 
 Julia. Therefore m.iy not I know it? 
 You have conceal'd for me as great a sin 
 As adultery. Sir, never was occasion* 
 For perfect trial of my constancy 
 Till now : sir, I beseech you — 
 
 Card. You'll repent it. 
 
 Julia. Never. 
 
 Card. It hurries thee to ruin : I'll not tell thee. 
 Be well advis'd, and think what danger 'tis 
 To receive a prince's secrets : they that do, 
 Had need have their breasts hoop'd with adamantf 
 To contain them. I pray thee yet be satisfied ; 
 
 * As adultery. Sir, never wai occasion] The 4to. of 1610 ; 
 
 " As adultery. Sir, I beseech you." 
 ■f Had need have their breasts hoop'd with adamanti Resembles 
 a line of Heywood ; 
 
 " Or be his breast hoop't with ribbes of brasse." 
 
 The Silver Age, 1613, Sig. G.
 
 302 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 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 Dutchess of Malfi, 
 And two of her young children, four nights since, 
 Were strangl'd. 
 
 Julia. O heaven ! sir, what have you done ? 
 
 Caiid. How now! how settles this? think you 
 your bosom 
 Will be a grave dark and obscure enough 
 For such a secret ? 
 
 Julia. You have undone yourself, sir. 
 
 Card. Why? 
 
 Julia. It hes 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 poison'd with that book ; 
 Because I knew thou couldst not keep my counsel, 
 I have bound thee to't by death. 
 Enter Bosola. 
 
 Bos. For pity sake, hold. 
 
 Card. Ha, Bosola ! 
 
 Julia. I forgive you 
 This equal piece of justice you have done;
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 303 
 
 Eor I betray'd your counsel to that fellow : 
 He over-heard it; that was the cause I said 
 It lay not in me to conceal it. 
 
 Bos. O, foolish woman, 
 Couldst not thou have poison'd him ? 
 
 Julia. 'Tis weakness, 
 Too much to think uhat should have been done. 
 
 I go, 
 I know not whither. [Dies. 
 
 Card. Wherefore com'st thou hither? 
 
 Bos. That I might find a great man, like yourself, 
 Not out of his wits, as the lord Ferdinand, 
 To remember my service. 
 
 Card. I'll have thee hew'd in pieces. 
 
 Bos. Make not yourself such a promise of that 
 life, 
 Which is not yours to dispose of. 
 
 Card. Who plac'd thee here ? 
 
 Bos. Her lust, as she intended. 
 
 Card. Very well : 
 Now you know me for your fellow-murderer. 
 
 Bos. And wherefore 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 
 Of those were actors in't ? 
 
 Card. No more; there is 
 A fortune attends thee.
 
 304 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 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 manyf ways that conduct to 
 seeming 
 Honour, and some of them very dirty ones. 
 
 Card. Throw to the devil 
 Thy melancholy. The fire burns well ; 
 What need we keep a stirring oft, and make 
 A greater]: smother? thou wilt kill Antonio? 
 
 Bos. Yes. 
 
 Card. Take up that body. 
 
 Bos. 1 think I shall 
 Shortly grow the common bier for church-yards. 
 
 C A RD. 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 sweUing, use to cut off 
 their tails, that the blood may run through them 
 the faster : let me have no train, when I go to shed 
 blood, lest it make me have a greater, when I ride to 
 the gallows. 
 
 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 enquiry 
 After her death. 
 
 * to] The 4to. of 1640, "a." 
 \ a manyl The 4to. of )640, " many." 
 i greater'] The 4 to. of 1640, "great."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 305 
 
 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 
 turn. 
 
 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. 
 0, poor Antonio, though nothing be so needful 
 To thy estate, as pity, yet I find 
 Nothing so dangerous ! I must look to my footing : 
 In such slippery ice-pavements, men haH need 
 To be frost-nail'd well, they may break their necks 
 
 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 
 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 
 
 dutchess 
 Haunts me: there, there !— 'tis nothing but my 
 melancholy. 
 
 VOL. I. ^
 
 306 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFl. 
 
 O Penitence, let me truly taste thy cup, 
 
 That throws men down, only to raise* them up ! 
 
 [Exit, 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Enter Antonio and Delio. 
 
 Delio. Yond's the cardinal's window. Tli is for- 
 tification 
 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 
 So plain in the distinction of our words, 
 That many have suppos'd it is a spirit 
 That answers. 
 
 Ant. I do love these ancient ruins. 
 We never tread upon them, but we set 
 Our foot upon some reverend history : 
 And, questionless, here in this open court. 
 Which now lies naked to the injuries 
 Of stormy weather, some menf lie interr'd 
 Lov'd the church so well, and gave so largely to't, 
 They thought it should have canopied their bones 
 Till dooms-day ; but all things have their end : 
 Churches and cities, which have diseases like to men, 
 
 * raise] The 4to. of 1C40, " rise." 
 f j/ien] Omitted in the 4to. of H40.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 307 
 
 Must have like death that we have. 
 
 Echo (from the dutchess' grave). Like 
 death that we have. 
 
 Delio. Now the echo hath caught you. 
 
 Ant. It groan'd, methought, and gave 
 A very deadly accent. 
 
 Echo. Deadly accent. 
 
 Delio. I told you 'twas a pretty one : you may 
 make it 
 A huntsman, or a falconer, a musician, 
 Or a thing of sorrow. 
 
 Echo. A thing of sorrow. 
 
 Ant. Ay sure, that suits it best. 
 
 Echo. That suits it best. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis very like my wife's voice. 
 
 Echo. Ay, 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 
 sorrow, 
 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 passesf 
 Of your own life, you'll find it impossible 
 
 * go] Omitted in the 4to. 1640. 
 f ipasses] The 4to. of 1708 (an alteration of the play, and of no 
 authority,) has " passages," which may be the right reaQin^.
 
 308 THE DUTCUESS OF MALFI. 
 
 To fly your fate. 
 
 Echo. fy 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 dutchess is a-sleep now, 
 And her little ones, I hope sweetly: O heaven. 
 Shall I never see her more ? 
 
 Echo. Never see her more. 
 
 Ant. I mark'd 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 live ; 
 It is a mockery and abuse of life : 
 I will not henceforth save myself by halves ; 
 Lose all, or nothing. 
 
 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 ; 
 
 * i?!] The 4tG. of 1640, " into."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 309 
 
 Contempt of pain, that we may call our own. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 Enter Cardinal, Pescara, Malateste, 
 
 RODERIGO, QwdGRISOLAN. 
 
 Card. You shall not watch to night by the sick 
 prince ; 
 His grace is very well recover'd. 
 
 Mal. 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 ; 
 And though you hear him in his violent fit, 
 Do not rise, 1 entreat you. 
 
 Pes. So, sir; we shall not. 
 
 Card. Nay I must have you promise 
 Upon your honours, for I was enjoin'd to't 
 By himself; and he seem'd to urge it sensibly. 
 
 Pes. Let our honours bind this trifle. 
 
 Card. Nor any of your followers. 
 
 Mal. Neither. 
 
 Card. It may be, to make trial of your promise. 
 When he's asleep, myself will rise and feign 
 Some of his mad tricks, and cry out for help, 
 And feign myself in danger. 
 
 Mal. If your throat were cutting, 
 I'd not come at you, now I have protested against it. 
 
 Card. Why, I thank you.
 
 310 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Gris. 'Twas a foul storm to night. 
 
 Rod. The lord Ferdinand's chamber shook like 
 
 an osier. 
 Mal. 'Twas nothing but pure kindness in the 
 devil, 
 To rock his own child. 
 
 [Exeunt Pescara, Malateste, Roderigo, and 
 Grisolan. 
 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 
 To fetch the body : when he hath serv'd my turn, 
 He dies. [Exit. 
 
 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. Nay then I see I must stand upon my 
 
 guard. 
 
 Ferd. What say [you] to that? whisper 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.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 311 
 
 Bos. My death is plotted ; here's the conse- 
 quence of murder. 
 We value not desert nor Christian breath, 
 When we know black deeds must be cur'd with death. 
 Enter Antonio and Servant. 
 
 Serv. Here stay, sir, and be confident, I pray : 
 I'll fetch you a dark lantern. [Exit, 
 
 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. 
 
 Ant. 0,1 am gone! Thou hast ended a long suit 
 In a minute. 
 
 Bos. What art thou ? 
 
 Ant. a most wretched thing. 
 That only have thy 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 sav'd '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. 
 Shall make thy heart break quickly ! thy fair 
 dutchess
 
 312 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 And two sweet children 
 
 Ant. Their very names 
 Kindle a little life in me. 
 
 Bos. Are murder'd. 
 
 Ant. Some men have wish'd 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 balm'd norheal'd, 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. 
 Pleasure of lite, what is't? only the good hours 
 Of an ague; merely a preparative to rest, 
 To endure vexation. I do not ask 
 The process of my death ; only commend me 
 To Delio. 
 
 Bos. Break, heart! 
 
 Ant. And let my son fly the courts of princes. 
 
 [Dies. 
 
 Bos. Thou seem'st to have lov'd Antonio ? 
 
 Serv. I brought him hither, 
 To have reconcil'd him tof the cardinal. 
 
 Bos. I do not ask thee that : 
 Take him up, if thou tender thy 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, 
 
 • sadnesi] i. e. seriousness, earnest, 
 t to] The 4to. of 1640, " with."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 313 
 
 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. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 Enter Cardinal, with a book. 
 
 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 fish-ponds in ray garden, 
 Methinks I see a thing arm'd with a rake, 
 That seems to strike at me. — Now, art thou come? 
 
 thou look'st ghastly ; 
 There sits in thy face some great determination, 
 Mix'd with some fear. 
 Enter Bosola, and Servant, bearing Antonio's 
 
 body. 
 Bos. Thus it lightens into action: 
 I am come to kill thee. 
 
 Card. Ha '.help! our guard! 
 Bos. Thou art deceiv'd ; 
 They are out of thy howling. 
 
 Card. Hold; and* I will faithfully divide 
 
 * and] Omitted in the 4to. of 1640.
 
 314 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Revenues with thee. 
 
 Bos. Thy prayers and proffers 
 Are both unseasonable. 
 
 Card. Raise the watch! we are betray'd. 
 
 Bos. I have confin'd your flight: 
 I'll suffer your retreat to Julia's chamber, 
 But no further. 
 
 Card. Help! we are betray'd. 
 Enter, above* Malateste, Pescara, Roderigo, 
 and Grisolan. 
 
 Mal. Listen. 
 
 Card. My dukedom for rescue ! 
 
 Rod. Fie upon his counterfeiting. 
 
 Mal. Why, 'tis not the cardinal. 
 
 Rod. Yes, yes, 'tis he : 
 But I'll see him hang'd ere I'll go down to him. 
 
 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 ray throat ! 
 
 Rod. You would not bawl so loud then. 
 
 Mal. Come, come, let's go to bed: he told us 
 thus much aforehand. 
 
 * above] i. e. on tlie upptT stage ; the raised piatform towards 
 tbe back of the stage.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 315 
 
 Pes. He wish'd you should not come at him ; but 
 believe't, 
 The accent of the voice sounds not in jest : 
 I'll down to him, howsoever, and with engines 
 Force ope the doors. [Exit, above. 
 
 Rod. Let's follow him aloof. 
 And note how the cardinal will laugh at him. 
 
 [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 life? 
 
 Bos. Look there. 
 
 Card. Antonio! 
 
 Bos. Slain by ray hand unwittingly: 
 Pray, and be sudden : when thou kill'd'st thy sister, 
 Thou look'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 
 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. 
 
 * Aer] The4to. of 16!0, "the."
 
 316 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 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. 
 There flies your ransom. 
 
 Card. O justice! 
 I suffer now for what hath former bin : 
 Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.* 
 
 Ferd. Now you're brave fellows. Caesar's for- 
 tune was harder than Pompey's ; Csesar 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 tooth-ache with the sight of a barber 
 that comes to pull it out: there's philosophy for 
 you. 
 
 Bos. Now my revenge is perfect. Sink, thou 
 main cause [He kills Ferdinand. 
 
 Of my undoing. The last part of my life 
 Hath done me best service. 
 
 Fetid. Give me some wet hay, I am broken- 
 winded. 
 
 * I sufftr now, <5)C.] See note * p. 143.
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 31? 
 
 I do account this world but a dog-kennel : ' 
 I will 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, 
 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'stlike a huge pyramid 
 Begun upon a large and ample base, 
 Shalt end in a little point, a kind of nothing. 
 Enter Pescara, Malateste, Roderigo, and 
 
 Grisolan. 
 Pes. How now, my lord ? 
 Mal. O, sad disaster ! 
 Rod. How comes this ? 
 
 Bos. Revenge for the Dutchess of Malfi, murder'd 
 By th' Arragonian brethren ; for Antonio, 
 Slain by thisf hand ; for lustful Julia, 
 Poison'd 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. 
 
 • Beyond death'} Found only in the 4to. of 1623. 
 f this] The three earliest -Itos. " his."
 
 3l8 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 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 ! 
 
 Mal. Thou wretched thing of blood,* 
 How came Antonio by his death ? 
 
 Bos. In a mist ; I knov/ not how : 
 Such a mistake as 1 have often seen 
 In a play. O, I am gone! 
 We are only like dead walls, or vaulted graves, 
 That ruin'd, yieldt 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. [Dies. 
 
 Pes. The noble Delio, as I came to ih' palace, 
 Told me of Antonio's being here, and shew'd me 
 A pretty gentleman, his son and heir. 
 
 * thing of blood,'\ Shakespeare has ; 
 
 " from face to foot 
 " He was a thing of blood." 
 
 Coriolanus, Act ii. Sc. 2. 
 t yield'] The 4tos. " yields."
 
 THE DUTCHESS OF MALFI. 319 
 
 Enter Delio, and Antonio's Son. 
 
 Mal. O sir, you come too late ! 
 
 Delio, I heard so, and 
 Was arm'd for't, ere I came. Let us make noble use 
 Of this great ruin ; and join all our force 
 To establish this young hopeful gentleman 
 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 pleas'd to make them lords of truth : 
 Integrity of life is fame's best friend. 
 Which nobly, beyond death, shall crown the end. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
 Thomas VVhite, TrijUcr, 
 Juiiutfon's Court.
 
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