THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 RIVERSIDE 
 
 V ▼ V V ▼ 
 
 Ex Libris 
 C. K. OGDEN
 
 m-
 
 JLibvar^ of OlD Zutt^ovs.
 
 THE 
 
 DRAMATIC WORKS OF 
 JOHN WEBSTER. 
 
 EDITED BY WILLIAM HAZLITT, 
 
 OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE. 
 
 IN FOUR VOLUMES. 
 VOL. II. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 JOHN RUSSELL SMITH, 
 
 SOIIO SQUARE. 
 
 1857.
 
 H31 
 
 * « ai_.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 P»gc 
 
 The Wuite Devu, ; on, Vittokia Cokombona . i 
 
 TUE DDCHES8 OF MaLFI ]45 
 
 VOI,. II.
 
 THE 
 
 WHITE DIVEL, 
 
 OR 
 
 The Tragedy of Paulo Giordano 
 Vrjini^ Duke of Brachiano^ 
 
 With 
 
 The Life and Death of Vittoria 
 
 Corombona the famous 
 
 Venetian Curtizan. 
 
 Ailed by the ^eenes Majefiies Seruants. 
 
 Written by John Webster. 
 
 Non infcriora fecutus. 
 
 LONDON, 
 
 Printed by N. O. for Thomas Archer^ and arc to be fold 
 
 at his Shop in I^opcshcad Pallacc nccrc the 
 
 Royall Exchange 1612.
 
 WHITE DEVIL. 
 
 ESIDES the edition of this Tragedy set forth 
 on the title-page, there appeared, at intervals, 
 the following : — 
 
 1 . The ^Miite Devil, or, the Tragedy of 
 Paulo Giordano Vrsini, Duke of Brachiano, With the Life, 
 and Death of V'ittoria Coromhona, the fiinious Venetian Cur- 
 tizan. As it hath hin diuers times Acted, hy the (iueenes 
 Maiosties seruants, at the Ph(cnix, in Drury-laiie. Wiitten 
 by John AVehstcr. Non inferiora secutus. London, Printed 
 by L N. for Hugh Perry, and are to be sold at his shop at 
 the signc of the Harrow in IJrittainsburse. 1G31. 4to. 
 
 2. The White Devil, or Vittoiia Corombonii. a Lady of 
 \ cnicn. A Tragedy, by Jolin Webster. Acted fonntsrly 
 by her Majesties servants at the Plucnix in Drury-laiie ; and 
 at this present (by his now Majesties) at tlu; Theatre Royal. 
 Non infiriora seruUis. Jjondon, ])nntcd by ii. jMiller, for 
 John IMayferc, at the White Lion, in iIk? Upper Walk of 
 the New E.xchange, and William Crooke at the 'I'hree HiblcH 
 on Fleet Bridge. 1 (505. 
 
 •3. Vittoria Corombona, or the \N'liite Devil. /\ 
 Tragedy, by J. Webster. An it is acted at tlu! 'Ilicatre 
 Koyal, by his Majesties servants. London, printed for
 
 4 WHITE DEVIL. 
 
 William Crooke, at the Grccu Dragon without Tcmplw 
 Bar. 1672. 
 
 Fiirtlier, writes Mr. ColHer: "Upon looking into the 
 play of Injured Love, or the Cruel Husband, which the 
 title page says was written by Mr. N. Tate, author of the 
 Tragedy of King Lear, I found it to be no other than 
 our author's play of the White Devil, with a different name. 
 It appears never to have been acted, though designed for 
 representation at the Theatre Koyal." 
 
 The plot of the Tragedy is thus outlined by Mr. Gcnest 
 in his Account of the English Stage : — " The Duke of 
 Brachiano is married to Isabella, the sister of the Duke of 
 Florence — but in love with Vittoria, the wife of Camillo. 
 Flamineo assists Brachiano in debauching his sister 
 Vittoria. lie kills Camillo, and pretends that he died by 
 accident. Brachiano causes Isabella to be poisoned. 
 Vittoria is tried for adulteiy, and sentenced to be confined 
 in a house for penitent strumpets. Brachiano gets her from 
 thence and marries her. Flamineo kills his brother 
 Marcello. The Duke of Florence, disguised as a Moor, 
 poisons Brachiano. Two of his friends kill Flamineo and 
 Vittoria." 
 
 The story of Vittoria Corombona (Accorambuoni), as 
 Mr. Jourdain de Gatwick has obligingly j)ointed out to me, 
 is related at large in Casimir Tempesti's " Storia della Vita 
 e Geste di Sisto Quinto," and from one of the authorities 
 cited by this author, Webster probably derived the mate- 
 rials of his tragedy ; though, for that matter, the dramatist 
 lived sufficiently near the date of the events themselves to 
 have learned the story from the lips of some one who had 
 gathered it on the spot.
 
 WHITE DEVIL. 5 
 
 " Paulo Giordano Ursiui, Duke di Bracliiano (adds Mr. de 
 Gatwick) married, first, Isabella, daughter of Cosmo dei 
 Medici, and sister of Francesco dei Medici, Granduca di 
 Toscana, who, writes Sansovino,* 
 
 * mori d'assai giovana eta.' 
 
 He married, in 1585, for his second wife, Yittoria Accoram- 
 buoni, widow of Francesco Peretti, nephew of the Cardinal 
 of Montalto, afterwards Pope Sextus V. Francesco Pe- 
 retti, the Camillo of Webster's tragedy, was assassinated 
 in 1582; Yittoria was confined in the Castle Sant'Angelo 
 by Pope Gregory XIII. from January, 1583, to April, 
 1585, and murdered after the death of her husband the 
 Duke. Flaminio, her brother, was also killed. The other 
 characters in Webster's play are all mentioned in the real 
 story : to some he gives their own names, and only slightly 
 changes that of the others." 
 
 One memorial of the terrible J)uke who partly gave title 
 to this tragedy is still manifest: at Bracliiano, in the Papal 
 States, nineteen miles north-west from Home, the ruins of 
 a fine old castle, once the stronghold of the Brachiani, 
 frown to this day, formidable in their decay. 
 
 W. II. 
 
 ' Delia Origine et de' Fatti Delle Famiglie illustri D'ltalia.
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 N publishing this Tragedy,! doe but challenge 
 to myselfe that liberty, which other men have 
 tane before mee ; not that I aftect pi'aise by 
 it, for, nos ha3C nouimus esse nihil, onely, 
 since it was acted in so dull a time of Winter,^ presented in 
 so open and blacke a theater,- that it wanted (that which 
 is the onely grace and setting-out of a tragedy) a full and 
 understanding Auditory ; and that since that time I haue 
 noted, most of the people that come to that play-house 
 resemble those ignorant asses (who, visiting stationers' 
 shoppes, their use is not to inquire for good books, but 
 new books), I present it to the general! view with thia 
 confidence : 
 
 Nee rhoncos metues maligniorum, 
 Nee seombris tunieas dabis molestas. 
 
 If it be objected this is no true dranimatickc poem, I 
 shall easily confesse it, non potes in nugas dicere plura 
 meas, ipse ego quam dixi ; willingly, and not ignorantly. 
 
 ' In the subsequent editions this passage " in so dull a time of 
 winter " is omitted. 
 
 ^ Black a t/ieiiter. — rrobably, rather, Mu?i/i, i. e. vacant, unsup- 
 plied with articles necessary toward theatrical representation. — 
 
 SXEEVENS.
 
 TO TEE READER. 7 
 
 in this kind haiie I faulted : For should a man present 
 to such an auditory, the most sententious tragedy that euer 
 was written, obseruing all the critticall lawes as heighth 
 of stile, and grauity of person, inrich it with the senten- 
 tious CHORUS, and, as it were lifeu^ Death, in the passionate 
 and waighty Nuntius : yet after all this diuine rapture, O 
 dura messorum Ilia, the breath that comes from the 
 uncapable multitude is able to poison it ; and, ere it be 
 acted, let the author resolue to fix to every scene tliis of 
 
 Horace : 
 
 — Haec hodie porcis comedenda relinques. 
 
 To those who report I was a long time in finishing this 
 tragedy, I confcsse I do not write with a goose-quill 
 winged with two feathers ; and if thoy will needc make it 
 my fault, I must answerc them with that of Euripides to 
 Alcestides, a tragick writer: Alcestides objecting that 
 Euripides had onely, in tbree dales composed three verses, 
 whereas himselfe had written throe hundredth : Thou 
 telst truth (quoth lie), but hei'es the ditforence, thine shall 
 onely bee read for three dales, whereas miue shall continue 
 three ages. 
 
 Detraction is the swornc friend to ignorance : for mine 
 owne jtart, I haue euer truly cherisht my good opinion of 
 other mens worthy lal)ours, especially of tliat full and 
 haightned stile of maister Chapman, the labor'd and 
 utidf.Tstaiiding woikes of maister Johnson, tlu; no lesso 
 wortby composures of the both wortbily excellent maister 
 Ueaniont ami maister Fletcher; and lastly (witliout wrong 
 last to be named), the right bappy and copious industry of 
 m. Shakc-speare, m. Decker, and m. Ileywood, wisbiiig 
 
 ' Editions of 1GC5 and 1C72 " enliven."
 
 8 TO THE BEADEB. 
 
 what I write may be read by their hght : protesting that, 
 in the strength of mine owne judgement, I know them so 
 worthy, tliat though I rest silent in my own worke, yet to 
 most of theirs I dare (without flattery) fix that of Martial, 
 
 non nonint Ilac monumenta mori. 
 
 In mentem Authoris. — J. Wilson. 
 
 SciJ'e veils quid sit muHer ? quo percitet asstro ? 
 Eli tlbi, si supius, cum sule, miile salts? 
 
 ' These verses, " In mentem Autlioris," were first printed in 
 the edition of 1665, with the initials J. W. In the edition of 1672, 
 the name, John Wilson, is printed in full.
 
 On Mr. Websteh's most Excellent Tragedy, 
 CALLED The White Devil. 
 
 " Wee will no more admire Euripides, 
 Nor praise the trai^ick streines of Sophocles ; 
 For why? Tliou in tliis Tragedie hast fram'd 
 All real worth that can in them be nam'd. 
 How lively arc thy persons filled, 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 skild in Arts, he thought thy play 
 Was onely worthy Fame to hearc away 
 From all h<'fore it : Urachianos 111, 
 Murthering his Uutchcssc, hath by thy rare skiU 
 Made him renown'd ; Flaminco such another, 
 The Devils darling, Muitherer of his brother: 
 His part most strange, (given him to Act by thee) 
 Doth iraiiie him Credit, and nut Cahunnio: 
 Vittoria Corombona, that fam'd A\niore, 
 Desp'rato Lodovico weltring in his gore. 
 Subtile Francisco, all of them shall bee 
 (iaz'd at as Comets by J'osteritie: 
 And thou meanc time with never withering Baycs 
 Shalt Crowned Ijce \>\ all that read thy Eayes." 
 
 S. SiiKPrAUii. Kpifframs Thcohjiml, Philoso- 
 jjhical, tj' liomantkkf Sfc. 1G51.
 
 TIIE PEKSONS.i 
 
 MoNTiCKi,so — a Cardinal; afterwards Pope Paul the 
 
 Fourth. 
 Fhancisco de Medicis, Duke of Florence ; in the 5th 
 
 Act disguis'd for a Moor, under the name of Muli- 
 
 NASSAK. 
 
 Bjraciiiano, otherwise Paulo Giordano Ursini, Duke of 
 Brachiano, Husband to Isabella, and in love with 
 Vittokia. 
 
 Giovanni — his Son by Isabella. 
 
 LoDOVico, an Italian Count, but decay'd. 
 
 Antonelli, ( his Friends, and Dependents of the Duko 
 
 Gasparo, J of Florence. 
 
 Camillo, Husband to Vittoria. 
 
 HoBTENSio, one of Brachiano's Officers. 
 
 Marcello, an Attendant of the Duke of Florence, and 
 Brother to Vittoria. 
 
 Flamineo, his Brother ; Secretary to Brachiano. 
 
 Jaques, a Moor, Servant to Giovanni. 
 
 Isabella, Sister to Francisco de Medicis, and Wife to 
 Brachiano. 
 
 Vittoria Corombona, a Venetian Lady ; first marr'd to 
 Camillo, afterwards to Brachiano. 
 
 Cornelia, Mother to Vittoria, Flamineo, and Mar- 
 cello. 
 
 Zanche, a Moor, Servant to Vittoria. 
 
 Ambassadors, Courtiers, Lawyers, Officers, Pliysitians, 
 Conjurer, Armorer, Attendants. 
 
 THE SCENE— ITALY. 
 
 ' From the edition of 1665.
 
 THE WHITE DEVIL. 
 
 ACT I.— Scene U 
 
 Enter Count Lodovico, Antonelli, and Gasparo, 
 
 Lodovico. 
 ANTSIIT ! 
 
 Ant. It griev'd iiic much to hoar the 
 sentence. 
 
 Lod. Ila, ha, O Dcmocritus, thy gods 
 That govern the whole woikl ! courtly reward 
 And punishment. Fortune's a right whore : 
 If she give uught, she deals it in small parcels, 
 That .she may take away all at one swoo[). 
 This 'ti.H to have great enemies ! God 'quite them. 
 Your wolf no lonjrer seems to he a wolf 
 Than when she's hungry. 
 
 Oas. You term those enemies, 
 Arc men of princely rank. 
 Lod. Oh, I pray for them : 
 
 ' The division into nets is first made in the edition of 16C5. 
 Tlie further distribution of thi; acta into scenes, iu the edition of 
 1672.
 
 12 THE WHITE DEVIL; OR, [act i. 
 
 Tlie violent thunder is adored by those 
 Are pasht' in pieces Ly it. 
 
 Ant. Come, my Lord, 
 You are justly doom'd ; look hut a little back 
 Into your former life : you have in three years 
 Ruin'd the noblest earldom. 
 
 Gas. Your followers 
 TTavc swallowed you, like mummia,^ and being sick 
 With such uimatuial and horrid physic, 
 Vomit you up i' th' kennel. 
 
 Ant. All the damnable degrees 
 Of drinking have you stagger'd through. One citizen 
 Is lord of two fair manors, call'd you master, 
 Only for caviare. 
 
 Gas. Those noblemen 
 \Miich were invited to your prodigal feasts, 
 (Wherein the phoonix scarce could 'scape your throats) 
 Laugh at your misery, as fore-deeming you 
 An idle meteor, which drawn forth, the earth 
 W^ould be soon lost i' the air. 
 
 ' Pasht, explains GiPTdrd, in a note to Massinger's Virgin 
 Martyr, " signifies to throw one tiling with violence against an- 
 other." 
 
 ^ Mummia, mummy, " Mummy is said to have been first 
 brought into use in medicine by the malice of a Jewish physi- 
 cian, who wrote that flesli tluis cmbulmed was good for the cure 
 of divers diseases, and particularly bruises, to prevent the blood's 
 gathering and coaguhiting. It is, however, believed that no use 
 whatever can be derived from it in medicine, and that all which 
 is sold in the shops, whether brought I'mm Venice, or even 
 directly fnjm the Levant by Alexandria, is factitious, the work of 
 certain Jews, who counterfeit it by drying carcases in ovens, 
 after having prepared them with powder of myrrh, caballin aloes, 
 Jewish pitch, and other coarse or unwholesome drugs." 
 
 CiiAMBKKS' Dictiunury, voce Mummy.
 
 sc. I.] VITTORTA COROMBONA. 13 
 
 Ant. Jest upon you, 
 And say you were begotten in an earthquake, 
 You have ruin'd such fair lordships. 
 
 Lod. Very good. 
 This well goes with two buckets : I must tend 
 The pouring out of either. 
 Gas. Worse than these. 
 You have acted certain murders here in Eome, 
 Bloody and full of horror. 
 
 Lod. 'Las, they were flca-bitings : 
 Wliy took they not my head then ? 
 
 Gas. O, my lord ! 
 The law doth sonietiinos 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 woiuUt then some great men 'scapo 
 This banishment : there's Paulo Giordano Ursini, 
 The duke of JJrachiano, now lives in Kome, 
 And by close panderism seeks to prostitute 
 Tiu; honour of Vittoria C'orom})()na : 
 Vittoria, she that might have got my pardon 
 For one kiss to the diikc. 
 
 Ant. Have a lull man within you: 
 We see that trees bear no such pleasant fruit 
 There where tliey grew first, as where they arc now set. 
 Perfumes, the more they arc chaf'd, the more they render 
 Their ])lcasing scents : and so atlliction 
 Kxpn;sseth' virtue fully, whether true, 
 Or else adulterate. 
 
 ' I'rcsjcs out.
 
 14 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OB, [act i. 
 
 Lod. Leave your painted comforts ; 
 I'll make Italian cut-works* in their guts 
 If ever 1 return. 
 
 Gas. O sir. 
 
 Lod. I am patient. 
 I have seen some ready to bo executed, 
 Give pleasant looks, and money, and grow familiar 
 With the knave hangman ; so do I ; I thank them, 
 And would account them nobly merciful. 
 Would they dispatch me quickly. 
 
 Ant. Fare you well ; 
 We shall find time, I doubt not, to repeal 
 Your banishment. 
 
 Lod. I am ever bound to you.- 
 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. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Enter Braciiiano, Camillo, Flamineo, Vittoria. 
 
 Brack. Your best of rest. 
 Vit. Cor. Unto my lord the duke. 
 The best of welcome. More lights : attend the duke. 
 
 [^Exeunt Camillo and Vittoria. 
 Brach. Flamineo. 
 
 ' A kind of open work, made by cutting out or stamping. — 
 DycK. 
 
 * In the margin of the quarto, opposite these lines, we read 
 Enter Senate, meaning the Sennet, or flourish of trumpets, &c. 
 preceding the Duke. — CoLLiJiR.
 
 6c. n.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 15 
 
 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, 
 
 Shall give you present audience. Gentlemen, [ Wlmper. 
 Let the caroch^ go on, and 'tis his pleasure 
 You put out all your torches, and depart. 
 Brack. Are we so happy ? 
 Flam. Can it be otherwise ? 
 Observ'd you not to-night, my honour'd lord, 
 Which way soe'er you went, she threw her eyes ? 
 1 have dealt already with her chamber-maid, 
 Zanchc the Moor ; and she is wondrous proud 
 To be the agent for so high a spirit. 
 
 Brack. \Ve are happy above thought, because 'hove merit. 
 Flam. 'Bove merit! we may now talk freely : 'bove merit! 
 what is't you doubt ? her coyness ! that's but the superficies 
 of lust most women have ; yet why should ladies blush to 
 hear that nam'd, which they do not fear to handle? O 
 they are politic ; thoy know our desire is increased by the 
 difficulty of enjoying ; whereas satiety is a blunt, weary, 
 an<l drowsy passion. If the buttery-halch at court stood 
 continually 0|)eii, there woidfl be; nothing so passionuto 
 crowding, nor hot suit after the beverage. 
 
 Bnitlt. O but her jealous husband 
 
 Flmn. Hang him ; a gilder that hath his brains perisht 
 with (juick-silvcr is not more cold in the liver. *'l'lie great 
 barriers moullid not more feathers, llian he halh shed hairs, 
 
 ' Circat roach. 
 
 ' i. «•. miiro leathers woro not dislodpod from tho helmets of 
 the combatants in the great tilting match.
 
 IG THE WTTTTE DEVIL ; OB, [act i. 
 
 by the confession of liis doctor. 'An Irish gamester that 
 will phiy himself nakeJ, 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 
 info his breeches. 
 
 Shroud you within this closet, good mj lord ; 
 Some trick now must be thought on to divide 
 My brother-in-law from his fair bed-fellow. 
 
 Brack. 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 arc without despair 
 to get in, and the birds that arc within despair and are in 
 a consumjttion, for fear they shall never get out. Away, 
 away, my lord. \^Exit Brack. 
 
 Enter Camillo. 
 
 See here he comes. This follow by his apparel 
 Some men would judge a politician ; 
 Jiut call his wit in question, you shall find it 
 Merely an ass ^in's foot cloth. 
 
 ' An Irish fiamester will piny himself nahed. — Barnahy Rich, in 
 his Nkw iJtscription nf Jnlautl, Kilo, says, " tliere is (i. o. in Ire- 
 land) a ccrtaini! brotherhood, called by the name of Karmwes, and 
 these be common gamsters, that do only exercise playing at cards, 
 and they will play away their mantels, and their shirts from tlieir 
 backs, and when they have nothing li;ft them, they will trusse 
 themselves in straw ; this is the lite they lead, and from this they 
 will n(jt b(! reclaimed." — ]U:eu. 
 
 * i. e. in his housings, his accoutrements. — Steevens.
 
 sc. n.] VITTOBIA COROMBOXA. 17 
 
 How now, brother? what, travelling to bed to your kind wife? 
 
 Ca7n. I assure you, brother, no ; my voyage lies 
 More northerly, in a far colder clime. 
 I do not well remember, I protest, 
 When I last lay with her. 
 
 Flam. Strange you should lose your count. 
 
 Cam. We never lay together, but ere morning 
 There grew a 'flaw between us. 
 
 Flam. 'Thad been your part 
 To have made up that flaw. 
 
 Cam. True, but she loaths I should be seen in't. 
 
 Flam. ^Nliy, sir, what's the matter ? 
 
 Cam. The duke your master visits me, I thank liim ; 
 And I perceive how, like an earnest bowler, 
 lie very passionately leans that way 
 He should have his bowl run. 
 
 Mam. I hope you do not think 
 
 Cam. That nobleman ImiwI Ijooty?^ faith, his cheek 
 Hath a most excellent bias : it would fain junij) with my 
 mistress. 
 
 Flam. Will you be an ass, 
 Despite your Aristotle? or a cuckolil, 
 Contiary to your Ephemerides, 
 Wliicli shews you under what a smiling planet 
 You were first swaddled ? 
 
 Cam. Pew wew, sir ; trll not ihl- 
 f )f planets nor of Kplicinfridcs. 
 A man may be made cuckold in flu' diiy-fiine, 
 
 ' Flaw, a vidlcnt sturm of wind. Ilfiicf, mctniihorit-ally, a 
 quarrel.— Ham, iWKi.i,. 
 
 ' Ti) plui/ hixtly, is to allow ono's adversary to win at first, in 
 order t<j iniluic liitn to rontiinie playing; ai'tcTwunls. — Hai.liwell. 
 VOL. II. C
 
 18 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act i. 
 
 A\nicn the stars eyes are out. 
 
 Flam. Sir, good-bye joii ; 
 I do commit you to your pitif'id pillow 
 Stuft with horu-slmviugs. 
 
 Cam. Brother ! 
 
 Flam. God refuse me,^ 
 Might I advise you now, yom- 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, like a hound 
 In leani,- at your heels. 
 
 Cam. 'Twere for her honour. 
 
 Flam. And so you should be certain in one fortnight, 
 Despite her chastity or innocence. 
 To be cuckolded, which yet is in suspense. 
 This is my counsel, and I ask no fee for't. 
 
 Cam. Come, you know not where my nightcap wrings me. 
 
 Flam. \\'ear it a' th' old fashion ; let your large cars 
 come through, it will be more easy. Nay, I will be bitter: 
 bar your wife of her entei'tainment : women arc more 
 willingly and more gloriously chaste, when they are least 
 restrained of their liberty. It seems you would bo a fine 
 capricious, matiiematically jealous coxcomb; take the height 
 of your own horns with a Jacob's staff, afore they are up. 
 These politic inclosures for paltry mutton, make more re- 
 
 ' God rrfaxe me. — Refiisf me, or God refuse me, appears to have 
 been among the fashionable modes of swearing in our author's 
 time. 
 
 * i. e. a leash, a string. I.Mtm is a correction suggested by 
 Steevens. The original has Leon, which has here no meaning.
 
 sen.] riTTORIA COROMBONA. 19 
 
 bellion in the flesh, than all the provocative electuaries 
 doctors have uttered siuce last juhilee. 
 
 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 spec- 
 tacles fashioned with such perspective art, that lay down 
 but one twelve pence a' th' board, 'twill appear as if there 
 were twenty; now should 3'ou 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 homble causeless fury. 
 
 Cam. The fault here, sir, is not in the eyesight. 
 
 Flam. True, but they that have the yellow jaundice 
 think all objects they look on to be yellow. Jealousy is 
 worse ; her fits presenting to a man, like so many bubbles 
 in a bason of water, twenty several ci'abbed faces, many 
 times makes his own shadow his cuckold-maker. 
 
 Enter VixToniA Coromboxa. 
 See, she comes ; what reason have you to be jealous of 
 this creature? what an igiunant ass or flattering kiuive might 
 he be countcil, tiiat sliould write sonnets to her eyes, or call 
 her brow the snow of Ida, or ivory of Corinth ; or compare 
 bi-r hair to the black-bird's bill, when 'tis like the black- 
 bird's feather? this is all. Be wise; I will make you liiciKls. 
 and you shall go to bed together. Marry, look you, it shall 
 not be your seeking. J)o you stand upon that, i»y any 
 means: walk you aloof; I would not have you seen in't. — 
 Sistf-r [my lord attends you in the baiupielling-bouse' ) your 
 husband is wondrous discontented. 
 
 ' The passages here inarkod wiiliin l)r;ii'lu;ts arc s|iolu>ii usiilo 
 to Vittoria.
 
 20 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act i. 
 
 Vit. Cor. T did nothing to displease him ; I caiTod to him 
 at supper-time. 
 
 Flam. [You need not liavc carved lum, in faith; they 
 say he is a capon ah-eady. I must now seemingly fall out 
 with you]. Shall a gentleman so well descended as Camillo 
 [a lousy slave, that within this twenty years rode with 
 the black guard' in the duke's carriage, 'mongst spits and 
 dripping-pans !J — 
 
 Cam, Now he begins to tickle her. 
 
 Flam. An excellent scholar [one that hath a head till'd 
 with calves brains without any sage in them,] come crouch- 
 ing in the hams to you for a night's lodging ? [that hath 
 an itch in's hams, which like the fii-e at the glass-house hath 
 not gone out this seven years] is he not a courtly gentle- 
 man ? [when he wears white satin, one would take him by 
 his black nuizzle to be no other creature than a maggot] 
 you are a goodly foil, I confess, well set out [but cover'd 
 with a false stone — yon counterfeit diamond.] 
 
 Cam. He will make her know what is in me. 
 
 Flam. [Come, my lord attends you ; thou shalt go to bed 
 to my lord.] 
 
 Cam. Now he comes to't. 
 
 Flam. [With a relish as curious as a vintner going to 
 taste new wine.] I am opening your case hard. 
 
 ITo Camillo. 
 
 Cam. A virtuous brother, o' my credit ! 
 
 Flam. He will give thee a ring with a philosopher's 
 stone in it. 
 
 » ' i. e. as Giffnrd explains, in his edition of Ben Jonson, tiie 
 scullions and fither drudges, who rode in the vehicles which car- 
 ried the furniture and kitchen utensils of ;^reat people on their 
 journeys from one of their hou.ses to another.
 
 6c. 11.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 21 
 
 Cam. Indeed, I am studying alchymy. 
 
 Flam. Thou shalt lie in a bed stuffed with turtle's fea- 
 thers; swoon in perfumed linen, like the fellow was smo- 
 thered in roses. So perfect shall be thy happiness, that as 
 men at sea think land, and trees, and ships, go that way 
 they go ; so both heaven and earth shall seem to go your 
 voyage. Shall't meet hun ; 'tis fix'd, with nails of dia- 
 monds to inevitable necessity. 
 
 Vit. Cor. How shall's rid him hence ? \_Aside.^ 
 
 Flam. [I will put -brize in's tail, set him gadding pre- 
 sently.] I have almost WTOUght her to it ; I find her com- 
 ing : 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 judgment. 
 
 Cam. Tnie, and a mind diflering from the tumultuary 
 opinion ; for, (fum neyata, (jratu. 
 
 Flam. Eight : you are the ^adamant shall draw her to 
 you, though you keep distance oflf. 
 
 Cam. A philosophical rca.son. 
 
 Flam. Walk by her a' th' nobleman's fashion, and tell 
 her you will lie with her at the end of the progress. 
 
 Cam. Vittoria, I cannot be iiiduc'd, or as a miui would 
 
 say, incited 
 
 Vit. Cor. To do what, sir? 
 
 Cam. To lie with you to-night. Your silkworm uscth 
 
 ' Ko marked, in old handwriting, in tlio copy of tho edition of 
 161U, at till! I'>riti.->h Museum. 
 » i. o. the fly tliiit sling.s cattle. 
 ' i. c. tho mufrnet.
 
 22 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act i. 
 
 to fast every third day, and tlio 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. Eut do you hear, I shall have you steal to her 
 chamber about miduiaht. 
 
 Cam. Do 3'ou thiidc 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 1 will ; I'll l)e your jailor once. 
 But have vou 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 parting. 
 
 Flam. I will. 
 
 Cam. Didst thou not mark the jest of the silk-worm ? 
 Good-night ; in faith, I will use this trick often. 
 
 Flam. Do, do, do. \_Exit CamiJlo. 
 
 So, now you are safe. Ha, ha, ha, thou intanglcst thyself 
 iu thine own work like a silk-worra. 
 
 Enter Bkachiano. 
 
 Come, sister, darkness hides yoiu- blush. Women are 
 like curst^ dogs : civility^ keeps them tied all day-time, but 
 they are let loose at midnight ; then they do most good, or 
 most mischief. My lord, my lord ! 
 
 Zanche hrinrjs out a carpet, upreads 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 soons't devour. 
 
 ' Ill-conditioned. ^ Social order.
 
 sc. II.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 23 
 
 Enter Coun:elia 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. 
 
 Brack. You are a sweet physician. 
 
 Vit. Cor. Sure, sir, a loathed cruelty in ladies 
 Is as to doctors many funerals : 
 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 fail'M upon nie : oh, my heart ! 
 My son the pander ! now I find our house 
 Sinking to ruin. Earthquakes leave behind. 
 Where they have tyrannizM, iimi, di lead, or stone; 
 But woe to ruin, violent lust leaves none. 
 
 Brach. Wliat value is this jewel? 
 
 Vit. Cor. *Tis tlio (tiiianient of a weak fortune. 
 
 Brarh. In sootli, Fll have it; nay, 1 will Imt chango 
 My jewel for your jewel. 
 
 Flam. Excellent; 
 His jewel for her jewel: well put in, duke. 
 
 ' This (lirfirtiim as to listt-ning is in iniinii.s(rij)l in tiio copy of 
 1612 just mfntiontHl. 
 ' Aside.
 
 24 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act i. 
 
 Bracli. Nay, let me see you wear it. 
 
 Vit. Cor. Here, sir ? 
 
 Bracli. Nay, lower, you shall wear my jewel lower. 
 
 Flam. That'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. 
 
 Brack. Most wishedly. 
 
 Vit. Cor. A foolish idle dream : 
 Mcthought I walk'd about the mid of night 
 Into a chm'ch-yard, where a goodly yew-tree 
 Spread her large root in ground : under that ^Qyf, 
 As I sate sadly leaning on a grave, 
 Checquer'd with cross sticks, there came stealing in 
 Your duchess and my husband ; one of them 
 A pick-ax bore, th' other a rusty spade, 
 And in rough terms they 'gan to challenge me 
 About this yew. 
 
 Brack. That tree? 
 
 Vit. Cor. This harmless yew ; 
 They told me my intent was to root up 
 That well-grown yew, and plant i' the stead of it 
 A wither'd black-thorn ; and for that they vow'd 
 To bm'y me alive. My husband straight 
 With pick-ax 'gan to dig, and your fell duchess 
 With shovel, like a fury, voided out 
 The earth and scatter'd bones : lord, how mcthought 
 I trembled ! and yet for all this terror 
 I could not pray. 
 
 Flam. No ; the devil was in your dream. 
 
 Vit. Cor. WTien to my rescue there arose, mcthought, 
 A whirlwind, which let fall a massy arm
 
 sen.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 25 
 
 From that strong plant ; 
 
 And both were struck dead by that sacred yew, 
 
 In that base shallow grave that was their due. 
 
 Flam. Excellent devil ! 
 She hath taught him in a dream 
 To make away his duchess and her husband. 
 
 Brack. Sweetly shall I interpret this your dream. 
 You are lodg'd within his arms who shall protect you 
 From all the fevers of a jealous husband, 
 From the poor envy of our phlegmatic duchess. 
 I'll seat you above law, and above scandal ; 
 Give to your thoughts the invention of delight, 
 And the fruition ; nor shall government 
 Divide me from you longer, than a care 
 To keep you great : you shall to me at once, 
 Be dukedom, health, wife, childien, friends, and all. 
 
 Cor.^ AN'oe to light hearts, they still fore-run our fall ! 
 
 Flam. What fury raised thee up? away, away. 
 
 [Exit Zanche. 
 
 Cor. What make yfiu 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, 
 Lest you be bla-sted ? 
 
 Cor. O that this fair garden 
 Had with all poison'd hcibs of Thessaly 
 At first been planted ; made a nursery 
 For witchcraft, nitluT than a burinl plot 
 For both your honours ! 
 
 Vit. Cor. Dearest mother, hear me. 
 
 Cor. O, thou dost make my brow bend to the earth, 
 
 • (advancing.)
 
 26 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act i. 
 
 Sooner than nature ! See the curse of children ! 
 In life they keep us frequently in tears ; 
 And in the cold grave leave us in pale fears. 
 Brack. Come, come, I will not hear you. 
 
 Vit. Cor. Dear, my lord. 
 
 Cor. \\liere is thy duchess now, adulterous duke ? 
 Thou little dream'st this night she's come to Rome. 
 
 Flam. How ! come to Rome ! 
 
 Vit. Cor. The duchess ! 
 
 Bracli. She had been better — 
 
 Cor. The hves of princes shovdd like dials move, 
 Whose reg-ular example is so strong, 
 They make the times by them go right, or wTong. 
 
 Flam. So, have 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 life short as are the funeral tears 
 In jxreat men's — 
 
 Brach. Fie, fie, the woman's mad. 
 
 Cor. Be thy act, Judas-like; betray in kissing: 
 May'st thou be envied during his short breath. 
 And pitied hke a wretch after his death ! 
 
 Vit. Cor. 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 :
 
 sen.] riTTORIA COROMBONA. 27 
 
 Send doctor Julio to me presently. 
 
 Uncharitable woman ! thy rash tongue 
 
 Hath rais'd a fearful and prodigious storm : 
 
 Be thou the cause of all ensuing harai. [^Exit. 
 
 Flam. Now, you that stand so much upon yom- 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 
 
 "SMiich you have hoarded for my maintenance, 
 
 That I may hear my beard out of the level 
 
 Of my lord's stirrup. 
 
 Cor. ^^^lat ! 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 rcturn'd 
 
 More courteous, more lecherous by far, 
 
 ]'>ut not a suit the richer. And shall I, 
 
 J laving a path so open, and so free 
 
 To my preferment, Htill retain your milk 
 
 In my pale forehead? no, this face of mino 
 
 I'll ami, and foilify with lusty wine, 
 
 'Gainst shame and blushing.
 
 28 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act i. 
 
 Cor. 0, that I ne'er had borne thee ! 
 
 Flam. So would I ; 
 I would the comnion'st courtezan in Rome 
 Had been my mother, rather than thyself. 
 Natui'e is very pitiful to whores, 
 To give them but few children, yet those children 
 Plurality of fothers ; they are sure 
 They shall not want. Go, go. 
 Complain unto my great lord cardinal ; 
 It may be he will justify the act. 
 Lycurgus wonder'd nnich, men would provide 
 Good stallions for their mares, and yet would suffer 
 Their fair wives to be barren. 
 
 Cor. Misery of miseries ! [^Exh. 
 
 Flam. The duchess come to court ! I hke 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's snake. 
 So who knows policy and her ti-ue aspect, 
 Shall find her ways winding and indu-ect. \^Exit.
 
 sc. I.] VITTOIilA C0R02IB0NA. 29 
 
 ACT II.i— Scene I. 
 
 Enter Francisco de INIedicis, cardinal Monticelso, 
 Marcello, Isabella, young Giovanni, with little 
 Jaques tlie Moor. 
 
 Francisco de Medicis. 
 |xV\rE you not seen your husband since you 
 ^ ti an-ived ? 
 
 Isah. 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 it — My sweet cousin ! 
 Giov. Lord uncle, you did promise me a horse, 
 And armour. 
 
 Fran, de Med. That I did, my pretty cousin. 
 Marcello, sec it fitted. 
 
 Mar, My lord, the duke is here. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Si.ster, away ; you niU8t not yet be seen. 
 hah. I do beseech you, entreat him mildly. 
 Let not your rough tongue 
 Set us at louder variance ; all my wrongs 
 Arc freely pardon'd ; and 1 ilu nol duubt. 
 As men, to try the precious unicorn's horn,* 
 
 ' Not markerl in the 4to. of 1612. The Ant is marked in tlio 
 4to. <)}■ 1C()5, th(! Scene nul until tin; edition nf l(i72. 
 
 ' Th«; hum of the unicorn wa.s considered iin inlMllilile !mti<li>le 
 against poison : tlie animal, aware of tliis (|uality of lis Imrn, was 
 rt.jHirted always to dij> it into the wal<'r itelnre he drank, in order 
 to counteract anythinjj noxious contained therein ; on which
 
 30 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act ir. 
 
 Make of the powder a preservative circle, 
 And in it put a sj)ider, so tliesc arms 
 Shall charm his j)oison, force it to oheying, 
 And keep him chaste from an infected straying. 
 
 Fran, de Med. I wisli it may. Be gone : 'void the 
 chamber. [^Exeunt cdl hut Monticelso and Francisco. 
 
 Enter Beaciiiano a7id 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, 
 "WHiich may be raised by my free discourse. 
 
 Brach. As silent as i' th' church : you may proceed. 
 
 Mont. It is a wonder to your noble friends. 
 That you, having as 'twere cnter'd the world 
 "With a free scei^tre in your able hand. 
 And having to th' use of nature, well applied, 
 High gifts of learning, should in your prime age 
 Neglect your awful throne for the soft down 
 Of an nsatiatc bed. O, my lord, 
 The drunkard after all his lavish cups 
 
 account, other beasts watched his drinking, that they might judge 
 of the purity of tiieir beverage. In such estimation "was this 
 counter-poison, that Andrea Haeci, al-'lorentine physician, relates 
 it had been sold by the aputhocaries for d£24 sterling per ounce, 
 when the current value of the same quantity of gold was only 
 Ji2 6s. 'id. Ambrose Pare, an eminent French surgeon, who 
 flourished towards the end of the sixteenth century, exposed the 
 cheat of its quack-salving vendors. What tlie Unicorn's horn was 
 supposed to be, what was sold for it, and the real unicorn as well 
 as the fancied unicorn, are treated of largely by bir Thomas 
 Brown, Vutyar Errors, c. x. xiii. b. 3.
 
 6C. I.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 31 
 
 Is dry, and then is sober ! so at length, 
 When you awake from this lascivious dream, 
 Eepentance then will follow, like the sting 
 Plac'd in the adder's tail. '\\'rctclied arc princes 
 When fortune blasteth but a petty flower 
 Of their unwieldly crowns, or ravisheth 
 But one pearl from their sceptre ; but alas ! 
 When they to wilful shipwreck lose good fame, 
 All princely titles perish with their name. 
 
 Brack. You have said, my lord. 
 
 Mont. Enough to give you taste 
 How far I am from flattering your greatness. 
 
 Brack. Now, you that are his second, what say you ? 
 Do not like young hawks fetch a course about ; 
 Your game flies fair, and for you. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Do not fear it : 
 I'll answer you in your own hawking phrase. 
 Some eagles that should gaze upon the sun 
 Seldom soar high, but take their lustful ease ; 
 Since tliey from dunghill birds their prey can seize. 
 You know Vittoria? 
 
 Brack. Yes. 
 
 Fran, de Med. You shift your shirt there, 
 When you retire from tennis? 
 
 Brack. JIa|)pily.' 
 
 Fran, de Med. llw lui.sl)and is lord of a poor foituric. 
 Yet she wears doth of tissue. 
 
 Bnir/i. W'lial of tbis ? 
 Will you urge tliat, my good lord cardinal, 
 As part of her confession at next sliriff, 
 
 ' //(//?pi7y— haply, possibly.
 
 32 TEE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act ii. 
 
 And know from whence it sails ? 
 
 Fran, de Med. She is your strumpet. 
 Brach. Uncivil sir, there's hemlock in thy hreath, 
 And that black slander. Were she a whore of mine, 
 All thy loud cannons, and thy horrow'd Switzers, 
 Thy gallies, nor thy sworn confederates, 
 Dm-st 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, hound and lock'd fast 
 In her last winding sheet, when I gave thee 
 But one. 
 
 Brach. Thou had'st given a soul to God then. 
 Fran, de Med. Tme : 
 Thy ghostly fother, with all his absolution. 
 Shall ne'er do so by thee. 
 Brach. 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. 
 
 Brach. Thunder ! in faith, 
 They are but crackers. 
 
 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. 
 
 Brack. Pity on thee ! 
 'Twere good you'd shew your slaves, or men condemn'd. 
 Your new-j)lowd forehead-defiance ! and I'll meet thee.
 
 sc. I.] VITTORIA COltOMBONA. 33 
 
 Even in a thicket of thy ablest men. 
 
 Mont. My lords, you shall not word it any further 
 Without a milder limit. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Willingly. 
 
 Brack. Have you proclaim'd a triumph, that you bait 
 A lion thus ? 
 
 Mont. My lord ! 
 
 Brack. I am tame, I am tame, sir. 
 
 Fran, de Med. A\'e send unto the duke for conference 
 'Bout levies 'gainst the pirates ; my lord duke 
 Is not at home : we come ourself in person ; 
 Still my lord duke is busied. But, we fear, 
 ^lien Tiber to each prowling passenger 
 Discovers flocks of wild ducks, then, my lord — 
 'Bout moulting time I mean — \ve shall be certain 
 To find you sm-e enough, and speak with you. 
 
 Brack. Ila ! 
 
 Fran, de Med. A mere tale of a tub : my word.s arc idle. 
 But to express the sonnet by natural reason, 
 Wlien stags grow melancholic 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. Sec, my lords, 
 What hopes you store in him ; this is a ca.skct 
 For l)oth your crowns, and should be held like dear. 
 Nr)w is he apt for knowledge ; therefore know 
 It is a more direct and fvcri way. 
 To train to virtue those of princely blood, 
 By examples than by precepts : if by exaniplcH, 
 
 vol,. II. I)
 
 34 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act ii. 
 
 Whom should he rather strive to imitate 
 Than his own fothcr ? be his pattern then, 
 Leave him a stock of virtue that may last, 
 Should fortune rend his sails, and split his mast. 
 
 Brack. Yom- hand, boy : growing to a soldier ? 
 
 Giov. Give me a pike. 
 
 Fran, de Med. "VMiat, practising your pike so young, fair 
 cousin ? 
 
 Giov. Suppose me one of Homer's frogs, my lord. 
 Tossing my bull-rush thus. Pray, sir, tell me, 
 Mitrht 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 ? 
 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^ driunmer, — O, 'tis excellent ! — 
 He need not fight ! methinks his horse as well 
 Might lead an anny for him. If I live, 
 I'll charge the French foe in the very front 
 Of all my troops, the foremost man. 
 
 Fran, de Med. AN'hat ! what ! 
 
 Giov. And will not bid my soldiers up, and follow, 
 But bid them follow me. 
 
 Brack. Forward lap-wing ! 
 lie flies with the shell on's head.^ 
 
 Fran, de Med. Pretty cousin ! 
 
 ' Danske, — Danish, 
 
 ' i. e. ere he's scarce batched.
 
 sc. I.] riTTORIA COROMBONA. 35 
 
 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. Ila ! without their ransom ! 
 How then will you reward yom' soldiers, 
 That took those prisoners for you ? 
 
 Giov. Thus, my lord : 
 I'll marry them to all the wealthy widows 
 That falli that year. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Why then, the next yeai* following, 
 You'll have no men to go with you to war. 
 
 CHov. "VSliy 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, 
 Wliereas a had one makes a man a beast. 
 Come, you and I are friends. 
 
 Brack. Most wishedly : 
 Like bones which, broke in sunder, and well set, 
 Knit the more strongly. 
 
 Fran, de Med. Call Camillo hither. — 
 You have rccoiv'd the rumour, how count Lodowick 
 Is turn'd a pirate ? 
 
 Brack. Yes. 
 
 Fran, de Med. We arc now prcpaiing 
 Some ships to fetch him in. Behold your duchess. 
 We now will leave you, and expect from you 
 Nothing but kind intrcaty. 
 
 Brack, ^'ou have chann'd nic. 
 
 lE.veunl Francisco, Monticeho, and Giovanni. 
 
 ' i. c.fall in.
 
 36 TUE WHITE DEVIL; OB, [act ii. 
 
 Enter Isabella. 
 
 You are in health, we see. 
 hah. And above health, 
 To see my lord well. 
 
 Brack. So : I wonder much 
 ^Miat amorous whirlwind hun-ied you to Kome. 
 Isah. Devotion, my lord. 
 Brach. Devotion ! 
 Is your soul charg'd with any grievous sin ? 
 
 Isab. 'Tis hurden'd with too many ; and I think 
 The oftcncr that we cast our reckonings up, 
 Our sleeps will be the sounder. 
 Brach. Take your chamber. 
 
 Isah. Nay, my dear lord, I wll not have you angry ! 
 Doth not my absence from you, now two months, 
 Merit one kiss ? 
 
 Brach. I do not use to kiss : 
 If that will dispossess yoiu- jealousy, 
 I'll swear it to you. 
 
 Isah. O my loved lord, 
 I do not come to chide : my jealousy ! 
 I am 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 physic, 
 The plague is in them ! 
 
 Isah. You have oft, for these two lips, 
 Neglected cassia, or the natural sweets 
 
 ' i. e. when first you married me.
 
 sc. I.] VITTOBIA COROMBONA. 37 
 
 Of the spring-violet : tliej are not yet much wither'd. 
 My lord I should he merry : these your frowns 
 Show in a helmet lovely ; hut on me, 
 In such a peaceful interview, methiiiks 
 They are too too roughly knit. 
 
 Brack. O, dissemhlance !^ 
 Do you bandy factions 'gainst me ? have you learnt 
 The trick of impudent baseness to complain 
 Unto your kindred ? 
 
 Isab. Never, my dear lord. 
 
 Bracli. Must I be hunted out ? or was't your trick 
 To meet some amorous gallant here in Eome, 
 That must supply our discontinuance ? 
 
 Isah. I pray, sir, burst my heart ; and in my death 
 TuiTi to your ancient pity, though not love. 
 
 Brack. Because your brother is the corpulent duke, 
 That is, the gi-eat duke, 'sdeath, I shall not, shortly. 
 Racket away five hundred crowns at tennis. 
 But it shall rest 'pon record ! I scorn him 
 Like a shav'd Polack :- all his reverend wit 
 Lies in his wardrobe ; he's a discreet fellow, 
 When he's made up in his robes of state. 
 Your brother, the great duke, because h'as gallies, 
 And now and then ransacks a Turkish fly-boat, 
 (Now all the hellish furies take his soul I) 
 First made this match : accursed be the priest 
 That sang the wedding-ma.ss, and even my issue ! 
 
 ' Di.ssom1)linp; womnn ! 
 
 * Pnliindcr. In Mi.ryson's Ttincran/, 1017, it is snifl, " The 
 Polnnians ahtin' all tlicir lir-ads close, oxcc|)tin(; tho liairc nf thi- 
 fort-head, which they lumrish very lung, und <iist buckf U< liiu 
 hinder part of the head." — Uced.
 
 38 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OB, [act ii. 
 
 Isdb. 0, too too far you have curs'd ! 
 
 Brach. Your hand I'll kiss ; 
 This is the latest ceremony of my love. 
 Ilenccfoi'th I'll never lie with thee ; hy this, 
 This wedding-ring, I'll ne'er more lie with thee ! 
 And this divorce shall be as truly kept, 
 As if the judge had doomed it. Fare you well : 
 Our sleeps are sever'd. 
 
 Isah. Forbid it, the sweet union 
 Of all things blessed ! why, the saints in heaven 
 Will knit their brows at that. 
 
 Brach. Let not thy love 
 Make thee an unbehever ; 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. 
 
 Isah. O my winding-sheet ! 
 Now shall I need thee shortly. Dear, my lord, 
 Let mc hear once more, what I would not hear : 
 Never ? 
 
 Brack. Never. 
 
 Isah. 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 WTetched wife and hopeful son. 
 Yet that in time you'll fix them upon heaven ! 
 
 Brack. No more ; go, go, complain to the great duke. 
 
 Isah. No, my dear lord ; you shall have present witness 
 How I'll work peace between you. I will make 
 
 ' In the sense of released.
 
 sc. I.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 39 
 
 Myself the author of youi- cursed vow ; 
 
 I have some cause to do it, vou have none. 
 
 Conceal it, I heseech you, for the weal 
 
 Of both your dukedoms, that you Avi'ought the means 
 
 Of such a separation : let the fault 
 
 Remain with my supposed jealousy, 
 
 And think ^vith what a piteous and rent heart 
 
 I shall perform this sad ensuing part. 
 
 Enter YvLxaciHCO, Flamineo, Monticelso, and Camillo. 
 
 Brack. Well, take your com-sc. — My honourable brother! 
 
 Fran. Sister! — This is not well, my lord. — AMiy, 
 sister ! — 
 She merits not this welcome. 
 
 Brach. Welcome, say ! 
 She hath given me^ a sharp welcome. 
 
 Fran. Are you foolish ? 
 Come, dry your tears : is this a modest course 
 To better what is naui^bt, to rail and weep ? 
 Grow to a reconcik'nient, or, by heaven, 
 I'll ne'er more deal between you. 
 
 hah. Sir, you shall not ; 
 No, thougli Vittoria, upon that condition, 
 Would become honest. 
 
 F'un. Was your husband loud 
 Since we departed ? 
 
 hnh. \\y my life, sir, no, 
 I swear by that I do not care to lose. 
 Are all these ruins of my former beauty 
 
 ' jne— supplied from an old interlineation in the 4tti. of 1612.
 
 40 THE WHITE DEVIL; OR, [act n. 
 
 Laid out for a whore's triumph ? 
 
 Fran. Do you hear ? 
 Look upon other women, with what patience 
 They suffer these shght >\Tongs, and with what justice 
 They study to requite them : take that course. 
 
 Isah. O that I were a man, or that I had power 
 To execute my apprehended wishes ! 
 I would whip some with scoi-pions. 
 
 Fran. What ! tmn'd fury ! 
 
 Isah. To dig the strumpet's eyes out ; let her lie 
 Some twenty month's a dying ; to cut off 
 Her nose and hps, pull out her rotten teeth ; 
 Preserve her flesh like mummia, for trophies 
 Of my just anger ! Hell, to my affliction, 
 Is mere snow-water. By your favour, sii* ; — 
 Brother, draw near, and my lord cardinal ; — 
 Sir, let me borrow of you hut one kiss ; 
 Henceforth I'U never lie with you, by this, 
 This wedding-ring. 
 
 Fran. How, ne'er more lie with him ! 
 
 Isah. And this divorce shall be as truly kept 
 As if in thronged court a thousand ears 
 Had heard it, and a thousand lawyers' hands 
 Seal'd to the separation. 
 
 Brack. Ne'er lie with me ! 
 
 Isah. Let not my fonner dotage 
 Make thee an unbeliever ; this my vow 
 Shall never on my soul be satisfied 
 With my repentance : manet alta mente repostumi. 
 
 Fran. Kow, by my biith, you are a fooHsh, mad. 
 And jealous woman.
 
 8c. I.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 41 
 
 Brack. You see 'tis not my seeking. 
 
 Fran. Was this your circle of pure unicorn's horn, 
 You said should chaiin your lord ! now horns upon thee, 
 For jealousy deserves them ! Keep youi- vow 
 And take your chamber. 
 
 hab. Xo, sir, I'll presently to Padua ; 
 I wUl not stay a minute. 
 
 Mont. O good madam ! 
 
 Brack. 'Twere best to let her have her humom- ; 
 Some half day's journey will bring down her stomach, 
 And then she'll turn in post. 
 
 Fran. To see lier 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. 
 
 Mar. Camillo's come, my lord. 
 
 Enter Camillo. 
 
 Fran. \Miorc's tlie commission ? 
 
 Mar. 'Tis here. 
 
 Fran. Give me the signet. 
 
 Flam. My lonl, do you mark their whispering ? I will 
 compound a medicine, out of thi-ir two heads, stronger than 
 garlick, deadlier than stibimn :' tlic canlli;!! iiirs, wliich are 
 scarce seen to stick upon the flesli, when tliey work to the 
 heart, shall not do it with more silence or invisible cunning. 
 
 ' itibium — an ancient name for antimony. — Kked.
 
 42 THE WHITE DEVIL; OR, [act ii. 
 
 Enter Doctor. 
 
 Brack. 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 ; one that 
 should have been lashed for's lechery, but that he confessed 
 a judgment, had an execution laid upon him, and so put 
 the whip to a nonphts. 
 
 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, to have prepared 
 a deadly vapom- in a Spaniard's fart, that should have poi- 
 soned all Dublin, 
 
 Brack. O saint Anthony's fire ! 
 
 Doc. Your secretary is merry, my lord. 
 
 Flmn. O thou cursed antipatliy to nature ! Look, his 
 eye's bloodshed, like a needle a chirurgeon stitcheth a wound 
 with. Let me embrace thee, toad, and love thee, O thou 
 abominable, loathsome gargarism,'^ that will fetch up lungs, 
 hghts, heart, and liver, by scruples ! 
 
 Brack. Ko more. — I must employ thee, honest doctor ; 
 You must to Padua, and by the way, 
 Use some of yom- skill for us. 
 
 ' A play upon the verb Candy, itself from candeo, to bleach, 
 make white. 
 
 " Gargle. ,
 
 sc. I.] riTTORIA COROMBONA. 43 
 
 Doc. Sir, I shall. 
 
 Brack. But for Camillo ? 
 
 Flam. He dies this night, by such a politic strain, 
 Men shall suppose him by's own engine slain. 
 But for your duchess' death — 
 
 Doc. I'll make her sure. 
 
 BracTi. Small mischiefs are by greater made seciu-e. 
 
 Flam. Remember this, you slave ; when knaves come to 
 preferment, they rise as gallowses are raised i'th' Low 
 Countries, one upon another's shoidders. {^Exeunt. 
 
 ^Mont. Here ia an emblem, nephew, pray peruse it : 
 'Twas tlu•o^vn in at your window. 
 
 Cam. At my window ! 
 Here is a stag, my lord, hath shed his horns. 
 And, for the loss of them, the poor beast weeps : 
 The word, Liopem 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 it given out so ? 
 I had rather such report as that, my lord, 
 Should keep within doors. 
 
 Fran. Have you any children ? 
 
 Cam. None, my lord. 
 
 Fran. You are the happier : 
 I'll tell you a tale. 
 
 ' Monticflso, Camillo, and Francisco, having rotirod tfi tlio 
 back fif th<; staKO on the entrance of the Doctor, h<ro conu' fi irwurd 
 again.— CoLLiJEK.
 
 44 THE WHITE DEVIL; OR, [act ii. 
 
 Cam. Pray, my lord. 
 
 Fran. Aii old tale. 
 Upon a time Phwbus, the god of light, 
 Or him we call the Sun, would need be married : 
 The gods gave their consent, and Mercury 
 Was sent to voice it to the general world. 
 But what a piteous cry there straight arose 
 Amongst smiths and felt-makers, brewers and cooks, 
 Keapers and butter- women, amongst fishmongers. 
 And thousand other trades, which arc annoy'd 
 By his excessive heat ! 'twas lamentable. 
 They came to Jupiter all in a sweat. 
 And do forbid the bans. A great fat cook 
 Was made theu' speaker, who intreats of Jove, 
 That Phoebus might be gelded ; for if now, 
 AMien there was but one sun, so many men 
 Were like to perish by his violent heat, 
 \Miat 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 ; 
 llcr issue, should not providence prevent it, 
 \N'ould make both nature, time, and man repent it. 
 
 Mont. Look you, coasin. 
 Go, change the air for shame ; see if yoixr absence 
 Will blast your cornucopia. Marcello 
 Is chosen with you joint commissioner. 
 For the relieving om* Italian coa.st 
 From pirates. 
 
 Mar. I am much honour'd in't. 
 
 Cam. But, sir,
 
 sc. I.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 45 
 
 Ere I return, the stag's horns may be sprouted 
 Greater than those are shed. 
 
 Mont. Do not fear it ; 
 I'll be yoiu" ranger. 
 
 Cam. You must watch i'th'nights ; 
 Thcn's the most danger. 
 
 Fran. 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, 
 Youi- parting is so merry. 
 
 Cam. MeiTy, my lord ! a'th' captain's humour right, 
 I am resolved to be drunk this night. [^Exeunt. 
 
 Fran. 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 acorn'd piu-pose else should we make choice 
 C)r him for a sea-captain ? and, besides, 
 Counl Lodowick, which was rumour'd fur a pirate, 
 Is now in Padua. 
 
 Fran. Is't true ? 
 
 Mont. Most certain. 
 I have letters from him, which are suppliant 
 To work his quick repeal from hnnishrncnt : 
 He means to address himself for prnsion 
 Unto our sister duchess. 
 
 Fran. O, 'twas well !
 
 46 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act iii. 
 
 "We shall not want his absence 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. Come, to observe this strumpet. 
 
 Mont. Curse of greatness ! 
 Sm-e he'll not leave her ? 
 
 Fran. There's small pity in't : 
 Like misletoe on sear elms spent by weather. 
 Let him cleave to her, and both rot together. [^Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III.— Scene I. 
 
 Enter Bbachiano, with one in the habit of a conjurer. 
 
 Brachiano. 
 ■^ W, sir, I claim yom- promise : 'tis dead mid- 
 
 night. 
 The time prefix'd to show me, by your art. 
 How the intended murder of Camillo, 
 And our loath'd duchess, grow to action. 
 
 Con. You have won me, by your bounty, to a deed 
 I do not often practise. Some there are. 
 Which by sophistic tricks, aspire that name 
 Wliich I would gladly lose, of necromancer ; 
 As some that use to juggle upon cards,
 
 8C. I.] VITTORIA COROMBOXA. 47 
 
 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 arc 
 
 Will keep a curtal^ to shew juggling tricks, 
 
 And give out 'tis a spirit; besides these, 
 
 Such a whole ream of almanack-makers, fiam-c-flinofers. 
 
 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 chann'd ; and now 
 
 I'll shew you, by my strong commanding art. 
 
 The circumstance that breaks your duchess' heart. 
 
 A dumb Shoiv. 
 
 Enter svgpicioushj Julio and Chhistopitero : they draw 
 a curtain where Brachiano's incture is; they put on 
 spectacles of (jJass, which cover their eyes and noses, and 
 then burn jyerf tunes afore the picture, and ivash thelijJS 
 of thepicture; that done, rjuenchin;/ thejire, andpnttinj 
 off their spectacles, they deiiart lauyhiny. 
 
 Enter Isabella in her niyht-rjoivn, as to bed-tvard, ivith 
 liyhts after her, count Lodovico, Giovanni, Guid- 
 Antonio, and others waitiny on her : she kneels doivn 
 as to prayers, then dravs the curtain of thepicture, docs 
 three reverences to it, and kisses it thrice ; she faints, and 
 
 ' This refors to Banks' colobratcd horse, so often mentioned in 
 old writers. The terra curlul was applied to a doekcd liorM-, or 
 any cropped animal.
 
 48 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act m. 
 
 will not suffer them to come near it ; dies ; sorrow eoc- 
 pressed in Giovanni, and in count Lodovico. She's 
 conveyed out solemnly. 
 
 Brach. Excellent ! then she's dead. 
 
 Con. She's poisoned 
 By the fumed picture. 'Twas her custom nightly, 
 Before slie Avent to bed, to go and visit 
 Your picture, and to feed her eyes and lips 
 On the dead shadow : doctor Julio, 
 Obsemng this, infects it with an oil, 
 And other poison'd stuff, which presently 
 Did suffocate her spirits. 
 
 Bracli. Mcthought I saw 
 Count Lodowick there. 
 
 Con. lie was ; and by my art, 
 I find he did most passionately do.at 
 Upon your duchess. Now turn another way, 
 And view Camillo's far more politic^ fate. 
 Strike louder, music, from this charmed ground. 
 To yield, as fits the act, a tragic sound ! 
 
 The second dumb SJiow. 
 Enter Flamineo, Marcello, Camillo, with four more, 
 as captains: they drink healths, and dance; a vaulting 
 horse is brought into the room ; Marcello and two more 
 whispered out of the room, while Flamineo and Camillo 
 strip themselves into their shirts, as to vault; they com- 
 pliment u'ho shall begin ; as Camillo is about to vault, 
 Flamineo pitcheth him upon his necJc, and, with the 
 help of the rest, writhes his neck about ; seems to see if 
 
 • i. e, ingeniously contrived.
 
 sc. I.] YITTORIA COROMBONA. 49 
 
 it he hroTce, and lays him folded double, as 'twere under 
 the horse; makes shews to call for help; Marcello comes 
 in, laments ; sends for the cardnud and dulce, tvho come 
 forth ivith armed men ; ivonder at the act; command the 
 body to be carried home; apirrehend Flam'meo, Marcello, 
 ami the rest, and yo, as 'twere, to apprehend Vittoria. 
 
 Brach. 'Twas quaintly done ; but yet each circumstance 
 I 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 ; 
 Wliilst your eye saw the rest, and can inform you 
 The engine of all. 
 
 Brach. It seems Marcello and Flamineo 
 Are both committed. 
 
 Con. Yes, you saw them guarded ; 
 And now they are come with [impose to apprehend 
 Your mistress, fair \'ittoria. We arc now 
 ]{oncatli her roof: 'twere fit we instantly 
 Make out by some back postern. 
 
 Ilrach. Noble friend, 
 You bind me ever to you : this shall stand 
 As the firm seal annexed to my hand; 
 It shall inffircc a ])aymcnt. 
 
 Con. Sir, 1 thank you. \ l^nf Brachinno. 
 
 f^oth flowers and weeds spring, whf-n the sun is warm. 
 And great meu do great good, or else great harm. [/i.n/. 
 
 VOL. u. K
 
 50 THE WHITE DEVIL; OR, [act m. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Enter Feancisco pe Medicis, and Monticelso, their 
 Chancellor and Register. 
 
 Fran. You have dealt discreetly, to obtain the presence 
 Of all the grave liegcr ambassadors,^ 
 To hear Vittoria's trial. 
 
 Mont. 'Twas not ill ; 
 For, sir, you know we have nought but circumstances 
 To charge her with, about her husband's death : 
 Their approbation, therefore, to the proofs 
 Of her black lust shall make her infamous 
 To all our neighbouring kingdoms. I Avondcr 
 If Brachiano will be here ? 
 
 Fran. O fie ! 'Twere impudence too palpable. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter FLAiUNEO, and Marcello (juarded, and 
 a Lawyer. 
 
 Lawyer. What, arc you in by the week ?- so, I will try 
 now whether thy wit be close prisoner. Mcthinks none 
 should sit upon thy sister, but old whore-masters. 
 
 Flam. Or cuckolds ; for your cuckold is your most ter- 
 rible tickler of lechery. "Wliore-masters would serve, for 
 none are judges at tilting, but those that have been old 
 tilters. 
 
 Laivyer. My lord duke and she have been very private. 
 
 Flam. You arc a duU ass ; 'tis threatened they have been 
 very public. 
 
 ' Kesident ambassadors. 
 
 ' This phrase appears to signify an engagement for a time 
 limited.— Steevens.
 
 sc. 11.] VITTORIA COEOMBONA. 51 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 NVlien 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, 
 Kollowest the great duke, feed'st his victories, 
 As witches do their serviceable spirits. 
 Even with thy prodigal blood : wliat hast got? 
 I'ut, like the wealth of captains, a poor handful, 
 Wliich in thy palm tliou bcar'.st, as men bold wat«T ; 
 Stoking to gri|)c it fii-st, the frail rewaiil 
 Steals througb tby fingers. 
 
 ' Tn rnm/rairli, to cheat a simple person ; conies (rabbits) boin^ 
 siinplo animals. — ISAKta.
 
 52 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act in. 
 
 Mar. Sir! 
 
 Flam. Thou hast scarce mauitenance 
 To keep thee in fresh shamois.^ 
 
 Mar. Brother ! 
 
 Flam. Hear me : 
 And thus, wlien we have even pour'd ourselves 
 Into great fights, for their ambition, 
 Or idle spleen, how shall we find rewai'd ? 
 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 proffers, but at heart it strikes ! 
 This is lamented doctrine. 
 
 Mar. Come, come. 
 
 Flam. WTien age shall turn thee 
 Wliite as a blooming hawthorn 
 
 Mar. I'll inten'upt you : 
 For love of virtue bear an honest heart, 
 And stride o'er every politic 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. 
 
 ' i. c. shoes made of the wild goat's skin. — Steevens. 
 * The epithet of" buiUler (lak" is orif^inally Chaucer's : 
 " The hilder oke, and ei<e the hardy ashe 
 The piller elrne," &c. — Assemblie of Fouks. Colwek.
 
 sc. n.] V IT TORI A COROMBONA. 53 
 
 Enter Fbench AiiBAssADOB. 
 
 Laivyer. O my spriglitlj Frenchmau ! Do you know 
 him ? he's an atlrairahle tiher. 
 
 Flam. I saw him at hist 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. 
 
 Laivyer. O, but he's an excellent horseman ! 
 
 Flam. A lame one in his lofty tricks; he sleeps a horse- 
 back, like a poidter.- 
 
 Enter English and Spanish. 
 
 Lairyer. Lo you, my Spaniard ! 
 
 Flam. lie can-ies his face in's ruff, as I have seen a 
 serving-man carry glasses in a cypress'' hatband, monstrous 
 steady, for fear of breaking: he looks likethcclaw ofablack- 
 bird, first salted, and then broiled in a candle. [Exeunt. 
 
 The Arraignment of Vittoria.'* 
 
 Enter Fuancisco, Monticelro, the six lieger Amhassa- 
 dors, BiiACiiiAXo, ViTToniA, and a Guard. 
 Mont. Forbear, my lord, here is no place assiguM you. 
 This business, by his holiness, is left 
 
 ' Mr. SU'ovons f)l)sorvos, tliat iIh; ancient randlpsticUs fivqnontly 
 roprosenU'd Iniinan fij^iircs liulding the suclicts for tliu lijjlils in 
 thiMf oxU'iidcd IuiikIh. 
 
 ^ pnn/irr — pDullcrcT. 
 
 ' A kind i)f'cra[)r!. 
 
 * " This W'liito Di'vil," ns slin is cnllod, Ih mndr> fair ns the 
 leprosy, da/./.Iin{; us tho lif^lilninf^ : slie is drfss<'<l hke n hr'ulo in 
 her wmni^s and licr rcvirnf^f. In tn<! trial scriif, in pnrticulnr, her 
 .sudden indignant answers to the (jnestions that are nskeil her
 
 54 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act in. 
 
 To our examination, 
 
 Brach. May it thrive with you. 
 
 [Lays a rich gown under him. 
 
 Fran. 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. Lomine judex, converte oculos in hanc pestern, 
 mulierum corrufptissimam. 
 
 Vit. Wliat'she? 
 
 Fran. A lawyer that pleads against you, 
 
 Vit. Pray, my lord, let him speak his usual tongue, 
 I'll make no answer else. 
 
 Fran. Wliy, you understand Latin. 
 
 Vit. I do, sir, but amongst this auditory 
 ^Vhich come to hoar my cause, the half or more 
 May be ignorant in't. 
 
 Mont. Go on, sir. 
 
 Vit. By your favour, 
 I will not have my accusation clouded 
 In a strange tongue : all this assembly 
 Shall hear what you can charge me with. 
 
 Fran. Signior, 
 You need not stand on't much ; pray, change your language. 
 
 startle the hearers. Nothing can be imagined finer than the 
 whole conihict and concfjption of this scene, than her scorn of her 
 accusers and of herself. The sincerity of her sense of guilt tri- 
 umphs over the hypocrisy of their affected and official contempt 
 uf it. — IIazlitt, Literature of the Age of Elizabeth.
 
 6C. n.] riTTORIA COBOMBONA. 55 
 
 Mont. O, for God's sake — Gentlewoman, your credit 
 Shall be more ftxraous by it. 
 
 Lawyer. Well then, have at you. 
 
 Vit. I am at the mark, sir ; I'll give aim^ to you, 
 And tell you how near you slioot. 
 
 Lawyer. Most literated judges, please j'our lordships 
 So to connive your judgments to the view 
 Of this debauch'd and diversivolent woman ; 
 Wlio such a black concatenation 
 Of mischief hath effected, that to cxtirp 
 The memory oft, must be the consummation 
 Of her, and her projections. 
 
 Vit. MTiat's all this ? 
 
 Lawyer. Hold your peace ! 
 Exorbitant sins must have exulceration. 
 
 Vit. Surely, my lords, this lawyer here hath swallow 'd 
 Some 'pothccaries hills, or proclamations; 
 And now the hard and uii(lii>estible words 
 <'ome up, like stones we use give hawks for physic. 
 Why, this is Welsh to Latin.^ 
 
 Lawyer. My lords, the woman 
 Knows not her tropes, nor figures, nor is pcifect 
 In the academic deiivation 
 Of grammatical clociil ion. 
 
 Fran. Sir, your pains 
 Shall be well spar'd, and your doop eloquence 
 Wn worthily applaudctl amongst those 
 Which understand you. 
 
 ' " IIo yiho gave aim w!is stntinncd nfnr lli<- ImltK, tn tfll tlio 
 archers, ufUT every (liselmrt^ej how wide, or liow sliort, llic arrow 
 fell fif llie murk." — Nahk.s. 
 
 * i. e. thia is a Welsh jargon, worse than bis Latin.
 
 56 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR. [act hi. 
 
 Lawyer. My good lord. 
 
 Fran. Sir, 
 Put up your papers in your fustian bag, 
 
 [Frcmcisco speulcs iliis as in scorn. 
 Cry mercy, sir, 'tis buckram, and accept 
 My notion of yom* learn'd verbosity. 
 
 Lawyer. I most graduatically tliank your lordship : 
 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. 
 
 Vit. O, you mistalie ! 
 You raise a blood as noble in tliis cheek 
 As ever was your mother's. 
 
 Mont. I must spare you, till pi'oof cry whore to that. 
 Observe tliis creature here, my honour'd lords, 
 A woman of a most prodigious spirit, 
 In her effected. 
 
 Vit. My honom-able lord, 
 It doth not suit a reverend cardinal 
 To play the lawyer thus. 
 
 Mont. O, your trade instincts your language ! 
 You see, my lords, what goodly fruit she seems ; 
 Yet like those apples' travellers report 
 
 ' This account is taken from Maiindeville's Travels. "And 
 also the Cytoes there weren lost, because of Synne. And there 
 besyden growen trees, that beren {'wW: faire Ajjjjies, and faire of 
 colour to lieliolile ; hut wlioso brehetlie hem, or cuttethe hem in two, he 
 snhalle fi/nrh within hem Coles and Ci/ndres ; in tokene that, be Wrathe 
 of God, the Cytees and the Lond weren brente and sonken into 
 Ilelle. Sum men clepen that See, the Lake Dalfetidee ; sunime 
 tlie Flom ofDeveles; and sume that Fiom that isever stynkynge. 
 And in to that See, sonken the 5 Cytees, be wrathe of God ; that 
 is toseyne, Sodom, Gomorre, Aldama,Seboym,and Segor." — Keed.
 
 sc. II.] VITTORIA COnOMBONA. 57 
 
 To grow where Sodom and Gomorrah stood, 
 I will but touch her, and you straight shall sec 
 She'll fall to soot and ashes. 
 
 Vit. Your envenom'd 'pothecary should do't. 
 
 Mont. I am resolv'd/ 
 Were there a second paradise to lose, 
 This devil would betray it. 
 
 Vit. O poor charity ! 
 Thou art seldom found in scarlet. 
 
 Mont. \Mio knows not how, when several night by night 
 Her gates weie cliok'd witli coaches, and her rooms 
 Outbrav'd the stars with several kind of lights ; 
 Wlien slie did counterfeit a prince's court 
 In music, banquets, and most riotous surfeits ; 
 This whore forsooth was holy. 
 
 Vit. Ha ! whore ! what's that ? 
 
 Mont. Shall I expound whore to you? sure I shall; 
 I'll give their perfect cbaracter. They are first, 
 Swoct-mcatH wliich rot tbe cater ; in man's nostrils 
 Poison'd perfumes. They arc cozening alchyniy ; 
 Sliipwrccks in calmest weather, ^^'llat are whores ! 
 Cold Russian winters, that appear so bai'ren, 
 As if tliat nature had forgot the spring. 
 They arc the tioic material fire of bell : 
 Woi-so than those tributes i'th' Low Countries paid, 
 Exactions upon meat, drink, gamicnts, sleep, 
 Av, even on man's perdition, bis sin. 
 Tbey are tboso biittle evidences of law, 
 ^Vbich forfeit all a wretched man's estate 
 i'or leaving out one syllable. What are whores ! 
 
 ' i. e. convinced. — Dyce.
 
 58 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act m. 
 
 They are those flattering bells have all one tunc, 
 
 At weddings and at funerals. Your rich whores 
 
 Are only treasuries by extortion fill'd, 
 
 And emptied ])y curs'd riot. They are worse, 
 
 Worse than dead bodies which are begg'd at gallows, 
 
 And \\Tought upon by surgeons, to teach man ' 
 
 Wherein he is imperfect. Wliat's a whore ! 
 
 She's like the guilty counterfeited coin, 
 
 "VMiich, whosoe'er first stamps it, brings in trouble 
 
 All that receive it. 
 
 Vit. This character 'scapes me. 
 
 Mont. You, gentlewoman ! 
 Take from all beasts and from all minerals 
 Their deadly poison — 
 
 Vit. Well, what then? 
 
 Mont. I'll tell thee ; 
 I'll find in thee a 'pothecary's shop, 
 To sample them all. 
 
 Fr. 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 mm-der. 
 
 Fran. Your unhappy husband 
 Is dead. 
 
 Vit. O, he's a happy husband ! 
 Now lie owes nature nothing. 
 
 Fran. And by a vaulting engine. 
 
 Mont. An active plot ; he jump'd into his grave. 
 
 Fran. What a prodigy was't, 
 That from some two yards' height, a slender man 
 Should break his neck !
 
 sc. n.] VITTOBIA COROMBONA. 59 
 
 Mont. I'th' rushes!^ 
 
 Fran. And what's more, 
 Upon the instant lose all use of speech, 
 All vital motion, hke a man had lain 
 Wound up thi'oe days. Kow mark each circumstance. 
 
 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. Had I foreknown his death, as you suggest, 
 I would have bespoke my mourning. 
 
 Mont. O, you are cunning ! 
 
 Vit. You shame your wit and judgment. 
 To call it 80. \\Tiat ! is my just defence 
 By him that is my judge call'd impudence? 
 Let me appeal then from this Chiistian court.^ 
 To the uncivil-* Tartar. 
 
 Mont. See, my lords. 
 She scandals our proceedings. 
 
 Vit. Humbly thus, 
 Thus low, U) the most wortliy and respected 
 Lieger ainbassadcjrs, my modesty 
 And woman-hood I tender ; but withal, 
 So intanglcd in a cursed accusation. 
 That my defence, of force, like Portia's,^ 
 
 ' i. c. on tho rushes, which then, in lion of carpets, covered tho 
 floors of riM)ms. 
 
 '' (who.) 
 
 •• i. (;. this C'lurl C/iristiun, tlic niimc, in England, of tho rk;cIo- 
 siastical Courts, wh<r<! ciinscs of adultery are cognizable. — Ukuo. 
 
 * i. (•. the sjtvage, uncivilized. 
 
 * Tho original has I'erneiis, an evident misprint. The emenda- 
 tion was suggested to Mr. Dyee by Mr. MitfonI, tlm allusiua 
 being to hJhakespeuru's Merchant «f \'i:iucv (1507). — DvCK.
 
 00 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OB, [act hi. 
 
 Must personate masculine virtue. To the point. 
 Find mc but guilty, sever head from body, 
 ^^'e'll part good friends : I scorn to hold my life 
 At yoiu-s, 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. You arc deceiv'd : 
 For know, that all your strict-combined heads, 
 \Miich strike against this mine of diamonds. 
 Shall prove but glassen hammers : they shall break. 
 These arc but feigned shadows of my evils. 
 Terrify babes, my lord, with painted devils, 
 
 1 am past such needless palsy. For yom* names 
 Of 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 question : 
 "\Alio lodg'd beneath your roof that fatal night 
 Your husband brake his neck ? 
 
 Brack. That question 
 Inforceth me break silence : I was there. 
 
 Mont. Your business ? 
 
 Brack. AMiy, I came to comfort her. 
 And take some course for settling her estate, 
 Because I heard her husband was in debt 
 To you, my lord. 
 
 Mont. lie was. 
 
 Brack. And 'twas strangely fear'd, 
 That you would cozen her. 
 
 Mont. Who made you overseer ?
 
 sc. n.] TITTORIA COROMBONA. 61 
 
 Brach. TMiy, my charity, my charity, which should How 
 From every generous and noble spirit, 
 To orphans and to widows. 
 
 Mont. Your hist ! 
 
 Brach. Cowardly dogs bark loudest: siiTah priest, 
 I'll talk with you hereafter. Do you hear ? 
 The sword you frame of such an excellent temper, 
 I'll sheathe in your own bowels. 
 There are a numlx.'r of thy coat resemble 
 Your common post-boys. 
 
 Mont. Ila ! 
 
 Brach. Your meiccnary post-boys ; 
 Your letters carry truth, but 'tis your guise 
 To fill your mouths with gross and impudent lies. 
 
 Serv. My lord, your gown. 
 
 Brach. Thou liest, 'twas my stool : 
 Bestow't upon thy master, that will ehallongo ' 
 The rest a'th' houseliokl-stufF; for lirachiano 
 Was ne'er so bf'ggaily to take a stool 
 Out of another's lodging: let him make 
 Vallance for bis l>ed on't, or a demy foot-cloth 
 For his most reverend mode." INlouticelso, 
 Nemo me impune laccssit. \^Exit. 
 
 Mont, ^'our chamjtion's gone. 
 
 Vit. The wolf may prey the better. 
 
 Fran. My lord, there's great suspicion of the murder, 
 But no sound proof who did it. For my ["art, 
 J do not think she hath a soul so black 
 To act a deed so bloody ; if she have, 
 As in cold countries Imsbandmeii plant vines, 
 
 ' Claim as due. ' moiU, — mule.
 
 62 THE WHITE DEVIL; OR, [act iii. 
 
 And witli 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. I discern poison 
 Under your gilded pills. 
 
 Mont. Now the duke's gone, I will produce a letter 
 "VMierein 'twas plotted, he and you should meet 
 At an apothecary's summer-house, 
 Down by the river Tiber, — view't my lords, — 
 AMiere after wanton bathing and the heat 
 Of a lascivious banquet — I pray read it, 
 I shame to speak the rest. 
 
 Vit. Grant I was tempted ; 
 Temptation to lust proves not the act : 
 Casta est quam nemo rogavit. 
 You read his hot love to rae, but you want 
 My frosty answer, 
 
 Mont. Frost i'th' dog-days ! strange ! 
 
 Vit. Condemn you me for that the duke did love me? 
 So may you blame some fair and crystal river, 
 For that some melancholic distracted man 
 Ilath drowu'd liimself in't. 
 
 Mont. Truly drown'd, indeed. 
 
 Vit. Sum up my faults, I pray, and you shall find. 
 That beauty and gay clothes, a merry heart, 
 And a good stomach to feast, are all. 
 All the poor crimes that you can charge me with. 
 In faith, my lord, you might go pistol flics, 
 The sport would be more noble.
 
 8c. n.] VITTORIA COEOMBONA. 63 
 
 Mont. Very good. 
 
 Vit. But take your course : it seems you've beggarM 
 me first, 
 And now woidd fain undo me. I have houses, 
 Jewels, and a poor remnant of cinisadoes ; ^ 
 Would those would make you charitable ! 
 
 Mont. If the devil 
 Did ever take good shape, behold his picture. 
 
 Vit. You have one vu-tue left, 
 You will not flatter me. 
 
 Fran. AVlio brought this letter ? 
 
 Vit. I am not coinpoll'd to tell you. 
 
 Mont. My lord duke sent to you a thousand ducats 
 The twelfth of August. 
 
 Vit. 'Twas to keep your cousin 
 From prison ; I paid usc^ for't. 
 
 Mont. I rather think, 
 'Twas interest for his lust. 
 
 Vit. 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 
 He 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 procluim'il tlicin all. 
 
 M<mt. Go to, go to. 
 After your gooilly and vainglorious banquet, 
 
 ' crnmdorn, — an old I'ortugucso coin, so callftl from the cros.i 
 st;iiiij)C(l on it. 
 ' IntfTcst. 
 -" I'residcnts, Judges.
 
 64 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act iii. 
 
 I'll give you a cliokc-poar. 
 
 Vit. A' your own grafting ? 
 ' Mont. You were born in A'^enice, honoui'ably descended 
 Fi'om the A ittelli : 'twas iny cousin's fate, 
 111 may I name the hour, to marry you ; 
 He bought you of your father. 
 
 Vit. Ila! 
 
 Mont. He spent there in six months 
 Twelve thousand ducats, and (to my acquaintance') 
 Receiv'd in dowry with you not one julio :- 
 'Twas a hard pennyworth, the ware being so light. 
 I yet but draw the curtain ; now to yom* picture : 
 You came from thence a most notorious strumpet. 
 And so you have continued. 
 
 Vit. My lord ! 
 
 Mont. Nay, hear me, 
 You shall have time to prate. IMy lord Brachiano — 
 aVlas ! I make but repetition. 
 Of what is ordinary and Eialto talk, 
 And ballated,^ and would be play'd a'th' stage. 
 But that vice many times finds such loud friends, 
 That preachers are charm'd silent. 
 You, gentlemen, Flamineo and Marccllo, 
 The court hath nothing now to chai-ge you with, 
 Only you must remain upon your sureties 
 For your appearance. 
 
 Fran. I stand for Marccllo. 
 
 Flam. And my lord duke for me. 
 
 Mont. For you, Vittoria, your public fault, 
 
 ' i. e. knowledge. 
 
 * A coin of about six -pence value.— Eeed. 
 
 3 Made the subject of ballads.
 
 sc. II.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 65 
 
 Join'cl to th' condition of the present time, 
 
 Takes from you all the fruits of nohlo pity, 
 
 Such a corrupted trial have you made 
 
 Both of your life and hcauty, and been styl'd 
 
 No less an ominous fate than blazing stars 
 
 To princes. Hear yovu" sentence : you are confin'd 
 
 Unto a house of convertites, and your bawd — 
 
 Flam. AMio, I? 
 
 Mont. The Moor. 
 
 Flam. O, I am a sound man again. 
 
 Vit. A house of convertites ! what's that ? 
 
 Mont. A house of penitent whores. 
 
 Vit. Do the noblemen in Rome 
 Krect it for their wives, that I am sent 
 To lodge there ? 
 
 Fran. You must have patience. 
 
 Vit. I must first have vengeance. 
 T fiiin would know if you have your salvation 
 By patent, that you proceed thus. 
 
 Moat. Away with her. 
 Take her hence. 
 
 Vit, A rape ! a rape ! 
 
 Mont. How? 
 
 Vit. Yes, you have ravish'd justice ; 
 Forc'd her to do your pleasure. 
 
 Mont. Fie, she's mad ! 
 
 Vit. Die with those jiills in your most cursed maw, 
 Should bring you health I or while! you sit o'th' bench. 
 Let your own sjiittle choke yuii I 
 
 Mont. She's tum'd fury. 
 
 Vit. That the lost day of judgment may so find yon. 
 
 VOL. II. J-
 
 Ofi THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act m. 
 
 And leave you the same devil you vpere before ! 
 Instruct me, some good horse-leceli, to speak treason ; 
 For since you cannot take my life for deeds, 
 Take it for words. O woman's poor revenge, 
 \Mncli dwells but in the tongue ! I will not weep ; 
 No, I do scorn to call up one poor tear 
 To fawn on your injustice : bear me hence 
 Unto this house of — what's your mitigating title ? 
 
 Mont, Of convcrtites. 
 
 Vit. It shall not be a house of convertites ; 
 ^ly mind shall make it honester 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. 
 Through darkness diamonds spread their richest light. ^ 
 
 [Exit. 
 Enter Bhachiaxo. 
 
 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'atone*^ our hatred. 
 
 ' " Tliis White Devil of Italy sets off a bad cause sospeciouslv, 
 and pleads with such an innocence-resemhlinj^ boldness, that we 
 seem to see that matchless beauty of her face which inspires such 
 gay confidence into her ; and are ready to expect, when she has 
 done her pleadings, that her very judges, her accusers, the grave 
 ambassadors who sit as spectators, and all the court, will rise and 
 make ptrofl'er to defcml her in spite of the utmost conviction of 
 her guilt ; as the shepherds in Don Quixote make profier to follow 
 the beautiful sheijlu-rdess Marcela, ' 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 ro.se, 
 Does spot the beauty of her budding name." 
 
 C. LAMn. Spec. n/Eiif/. JJiam. Poets, p. '229. 
 * t'atone, — reconcile, i. c. bring into tune.
 
 sc. ir.] riTTORIA COROMBONA. 67 
 
 Fran. Sir, what's the matter ? 
 
 Brach. I will not chase more blood from that lov'd check ; 
 You have lost too much already; fare you well. {^Exlt. 
 
 Fran. How strange these words sound! what's the in- 
 terpretation ■? 
 
 Flam. lAside.l Good ; this is a preface to the discovery 
 of the duchess's death : he carries it well. Because now 
 I cannot counteifeit 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 oiF idle questions. Treason's 
 tongue hath a villanous palsy in't ; I will talk to any man, 
 hear no man, and for a time appear a politic madman. 
 
 [Eu-if. 
 
 Enter Giovanni, and Count Lodovico. 
 Fran. How now, my nohle cousin ? what, in l)lack I 
 Glov. Yes, uncle, I was taught to imitate you 
 In virtue, and you must imitate me 
 In colours of your garments. !My sweet motlier 
 
 Fran. How? where? 
 
 Giov. Is there ; no, yonder : indeed, sir, I'll not tell you, 
 For I shall make you weep. 
 
 Fran. Is dead ? 
 
 Giov. Do not blame me now, 
 1 did not tell you so. 
 
 LoiL She's dead, my lord. 
 
 Fran. Dead ! 
 
 Monf. JMcssM liidy, thou art now above tliy woes I 
 "Wilt j)leaHC your lordships to withdraw a little?' 
 
 ' To the ambassadors, who withdraw arcordingljr.
 
 68 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act in, 
 
 Glov. ^Miat do the dead do, uncle? do they cat, 
 Hear music, go a himting, and be merry, 
 As we that live ? 
 
 Fran. No, coz ; they sleep. 
 
 Giov. Lord, lord, that I were dead ! 
 I have not slept these six nights. When do they wake ? 
 
 Fran. "Wlien God shall please. 
 
 Glov. Good God, let her sleep ever ! 
 For I have known her wake an hundred nights, 
 Wlien 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 tlicy 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. 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. O, all of my poor sister that remains ! 
 Take him away for God's sake ! [^Exit Giovanni, 
 
 Mont. How now, my lord ? 
 
 Fran. Believe me, I am nothing but her grave ; 
 And I shall keep her blessed memory 
 Longer than thousand epitaphs. 
 
 Enter Flamineo as distracted. 
 
 Flam. \N'e cndiu-e the strokes like anvils or hard steel, 
 Till pain itself make us no pain to feel. 
 \\lio shall do me right now ? is this the end of service ? I'd 
 rather go weed garlic ; travel through France, and be muie 
 own ostler ; wear sheep-skiu linings, or shoes that stink of
 
 sc. II.] riTTOniA COROMBOXA. 69 
 
 blacking ; be entered into tbe list of the forty thousand 
 pedlars in Poland. 
 
 Enter Savoy Ambassador. 
 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 nui.>t 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 WTOught their purpose cunningly, as 
 if they would not seem to do it of malice ! In this a poli- 
 tician imitates the devil, as the devil imitates a cannon : 
 wheresoever he comes to do mischief, he comes with his 
 backside towards you. 
 
 Enter French and EnrjVisli Ajibassadoiis. 
 
 French Amh. The proofs are evident. 
 
 Flam. Proof! 'twas comiption. O gold, what a god art 
 thou ! and O man, what a d(.'vil art thou to be tempted by 
 that cursed mineral ! V<in divcrsivoleiit lawyer, mark him ! 
 knaves turn informers, as maggots turn to flics, you inay 
 catch gudgeons with either. A cardinal ! 1 would he would 
 hear me : there's nothing so holy but money will comii)t 
 and putrify it, like victual under the line.' ^'..u are liiipiiy 
 in ICngland, my lonl; hen; they sell justice wilh those 
 weights they press men to death wiili. < ) horrible salary! 
 En'j. Amh. Fie, fie, Flamineo. 
 
 •i.e. tho efiuin<x;tial lino.
 
 70 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OE, [act m, 
 
 Flnm. Bells ne'er ring well, till tliej are at tlieir full 
 pitch ; and I hope yon cardinal shall never liave the grace 
 to pray well, till he come to the scaffold. If they were 
 lacked now to know the confederacy : but your nohlemcn 
 are privileged from the rack ; and well may, for a little thing 
 would pull some of them a'picces afore they came to their 
 arraignment. Religion, O how it is commedlod' with 
 pohcy ! The first blood shed in the world hu})pened about 
 religion. A\'ould I were a Jew ! 
 
 Mar. O, there are too many ! 
 
 Flam. You are deceived; there are not JeAvs 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, 
 (me 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 : l)e thou one of them practise the 
 art of "\^^olner in England,^ to swallow all's given thee : and 
 
 ' cominedled, — co-mingled. To meddle, anciently, signified to mix 
 or mingle. — SxEEVENS. 
 
 ^ As to this Wnnlner, we find in the Registers of the Stationers 
 Company, edited by Collier for the Shakespeare Society, the fol- 
 lowing particulars : — 
 
 " lid of Henry Denham, for his lyccnse for the pryntinge of 
 a boke intituled plcasante tayles of the lyfe of Richard VVolner." 
 [Woolner, or Wolnor, was a great humourist, and a greater cater, 
 whose name became proverbial. " Three meales of a lazirillo 
 make the fourth of a Woolner," says G. Hervey in his Pierces 
 Supererogation, 1593; and S. Rowlands in his Knave of Clubs, 
 1611, has,— 
 
 " Plying liis victuals thus an hour at least, 
 Like unto AV'oolner the same ravening beast." 
 
 A droll, dry story is told of him in Taylor the water-poet's 
 Wit and 3Iirth, 1629, which also found its way into Sir J. liar-
 
 sen.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 71 
 
 yet let one purgation make thee as hungry again as fellows 
 that work in a saw-pit. I'll go hear the screech-owl . [ ?lcit. 
 
 Lod. This was Brachiano's pander ; and 'tis strange 
 That in such open, and apparent guilt 
 Of his adulterous sister, ho dare utter 
 So scandalous a passion. I must wind him. 
 
 Re-enter Flamineo. 
 
 Flam. How dares this banish'd count return to Rome, 
 His pardon not yet purchas'd ! I have heard 
 The deceased duchess 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 tuiii thy gall to poison, 
 And let the stigmatic* wrinkles in thy face, 
 Like to the boisterous waves in a rough tide, 
 
 rinj^ton's Brkf View of the State of t fie Church, 1653, and is thore 
 thus narrati'il : — " WIioii ho (Diiy, Uishcip (if Winchustfr) was 
 first D<!an of Wimlsor, then; was a siiif^iiif; man in tlu' (iiiirc, one 
 Woi»lnor, a pleasant lullow, I)ul famous for liis eating rathor tliari 
 hi.s sint;ing, and for tin; swallow of his ihnjat than lor tin- sweet- 
 ness of liis note. Mast<T Dean sent a man to reprove him for not 
 .sinj^iu'^ with his lellows : the messenger thowj^ht all were wor- 
 shipful, at least, that did tlx^n wear whiter surplit•«^s, and told him, 
 Mr. J)ean woulcl pray his worship to sin;^ ! ' 'J'hank Mr. Dean,' 
 quotli Woolncr, ' and tell him I am as merry as they tliat sinjj! ' 
 Which answer though it would have oflcndi-d some men, y<'t, hear- 
 ini; him to he such as I have? dc'scrihed, he was soon paciliud." No 
 copy of Denham's puhlication rcgardiufj Woolner is extant; its 
 pfipularity, no doidjt, previrnted its preservation, exrejitinf^ wiien 
 a joke, as in tht; instance just ipioted, has l)ecn transmitted to u» 
 second or tliird hand. 
 
 ' $ligiiutlic, i. e. marked as with a brand of infamy. — Steevens.
 
 72 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act iir. 
 
 One still overtake another. 
 
 Lod. I do thank thee, 
 And I do wish ingeniously' for thy sake, 
 Tlie dog-da^-s all year long-. 
 
 Flam. How croaks the raven? 
 Is our good duchess dead ? 
 
 Lod. Dead. 
 
 Flam. O fate ! 
 ^Misfortune comes hke the coroner's business 
 Huddle upon huddle. 
 
 Lod. Shalt thou and I join house-keeping ? 
 
 Flam. Yes, content : 
 Let's he unsociably sociable. 
 
 Lod. Sit some three days together, and discourse ? 
 
 Flam. Only with making faces; 
 Lie in our clothes. 
 
 Lod. With faggots for our pillows. 
 
 Flam. And be lousy. 
 
 Lod. In taffata linings, that's genteel melancholy ; 
 Sleep all day. 
 
 Flam. Yes ; and, like your melancholic hare. 
 Feed after midnight. 
 We arc observed : see how yon couple grieve. 
 
 Lod. \Vhat a strange creatm-e is a lauffliing fool ! 
 As if man were created to no use 
 But only to shew liis teeth. 
 
 Flam. I'll tell thee what, 
 It would do well instead of looking-glasses, 
 To set one's face each morning by a saucer 
 Of a mtch's congeal'd blood. 
 
 ' ingeniousli/, for ingenuously.
 
 sc. n.] VITTORIA COEOMBOXA. 73 
 
 Lod. Precious rogue I 
 We'll never part. 
 
 Ham. Never, tiU the beggary of courtiers, 
 The discontent of churchmen, want of soldiers, 
 And all the creatiu-es that hang manacled, 
 Worse than strappadocd, on the lowest felly 
 Of fortune's wheel, he taught, in our two lives. 
 To scorn that world wliich life of means deprives. 
 
 Enter Antonelli.^ 
 
 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. Look up again, 
 Flamineo, see my pardon. 
 
 Flam. "VSliy do you laugh ? 
 There was no such condition in om* covenant. 
 
 Lod. Why? 
 
 Flam. You shall not seem a happier man than T : 
 You know our vow, sir ; if you will l)e meny. 
 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. ]Ia! 
 
 Lod. Look 3-ou, I spake that laughing. 
 
 Flam. Dost ever think to speak again? 
 
 ' And with him Gnsparo, though tlio entrance is not marked 
 in the t^uurUjs.
 
 74 TUE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act in. 
 
 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 Icarn'd 't long since. But I'll tell you. 
 
 Lod. AVhat? 
 
 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. \_St)'iJces Jiim,, 
 See, now I laugh too. 
 
 Mar. You are to blame : I'll force you hence. 
 
 Lod. Unhand me. \_Exeunt Marcello and Flamineo. 
 That e'er I should be forc'd to right myself, 
 Upon a pander ! 
 
 Anto. My lord. 
 
 Lod. H' had been as good met Avith his fist a thunderbolt. 
 
 Gas. How this shews ! 
 
 Lod. Uds'dcath ! how did my sword miss him ? 
 These rogues that arc most weary of their lives 
 Still 'scape the greatest dangers, 
 A pox upon him ; all his reputation, 
 Xay, all the goodness of his family, 
 Is not worth half this earthquake :
 
 sc. 11.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 75 
 
 I learn'd it of no fencer to shake thus : 
 
 Come, I'll forget him, and go drink some wine. [^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 Enter Fbancisco 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. Far be it from my thoughts 
 To seek revenge. 
 
 Mont. What, are you turn'd all marble ? 
 
 Fran. Shall I defy him, and impose a war, 
 Most burthensome 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 gi-ave, and in his seed. 
 
 Mont, That's not the course I'd wish you ; pray observe 
 me. 
 We sec that undermining more prevails 
 Than doth the cannon. Bear your wrongs conccal'd, 
 And, patient as the tortoise, let this camel 
 Stalk o'er your back unbruis'd : sl(i|i wiih llic lion. 
 And let this brood of seciue fooli.sji mice 
 Play with your nostrils, till the time be ripe 
 For th' bloody audit, and ihr fatal gripe; 
 Aim like a cunning fowler, close one eye, 
 
 ' Hriflos f(.rm<Tly walkfd to church wiili their hair hanging 
 lyosc buhind. — Stlevens.
 
 76 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act m. 
 
 That you the better may your game espy. 
 
 Fmn. Free me, my innocence, from treacherous acts ! 
 I know there's thunder yonder ; and I'll stand. 
 Like a safe valley, which low bends the knee 
 To some aspiring mountain : since I know 
 Treason, like s])idcrs weaving nets for flics, 
 By her foul work is found, and in it dies. 
 To pass away these thoughts, my houom''d lord, 
 It is reported you possess a book, 
 Wherein you have quoted, by intelligence. 
 The names of all notorious oifenders 
 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 Im-k 
 The names of many devils. 
 
 Fran. Pray let's see it. 
 
 Mont. I'll fetch it to your lordship. \_Exit. 
 
 Fran. Monticelso, 
 I will not trust thee, but in all my j)lots 
 I'll rest as jealous as a town bcsieg'd. 
 Thou canst not reach what I intend to act : 
 Yom" flax soon kindles, soon is out again, 
 But gold slow heats, and long will hot remain. 
 
 Enter Mosticv^lso, jpresents Feancisco ivith a book. 
 
 Mont. 'Tis here, my lord. 
 Fran. First, your intelligencers, pray let's see. 
 Mont. Then- nimiber rises strangely ; 
 And some of them
 
 tc. m.] TITTOEIA COROMBONA. 77 
 
 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 politic banki-upts; 
 For fellows that are hawds to then- o\\'n wives. 
 Only to put off horses, and slight jewels. 
 Clocks, defac'd plate, and such commodities, 
 At birth of their first children. 
 Fran. Are there such ? 
 Mont. These are for impudent bawds, 
 That go in men's apparel ; for usurers 
 That share witli scriveneis for their good reportage ; 
 For lawyers that will antedate their writs : 
 And some divines you might find folded there. 
 But that I shp 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. Murderers ? 
 Fold down tlie leaf, 1 pray : 
 
 Good, my lord, let me borrow this strange doctrine. 
 Mont. Pray, usc't, my lord. 
 Fran. I do assure your lordship, 
 ^'ou arc a worthy member of the state. 
 And have done infinite good in your discovery 
 Of tlie.Hc offenders. 
 Mont. Somewhat, sir. 
 
 ' Usurers fnrtncrly di-frimdid norPssiUms Ixirrowcrs \>y fur- 
 nisliiiif; them with goods uiid Wiirrs, to bo ronvcrt<'d into cash nt 
 a f^rcat I039 to the borrower. This was dono to uvoid tlio iiciml 
 hUitulos against Usury. — Keed.
 
 I7' 
 
 78 THE WHITE DEVIL; OR, [act iii. 
 
 Fran. O God ! 
 Better than tribute of wolves paid in England ; 
 'Twill hang their skins o'th' hedge. 
 
 Mont. I must make hold 
 To leave your lordship. 
 
 Fran. Dearly, sir, I thank you : 
 If any ask for me at court, report 
 You have left me in the company of knaves. 
 
 [Exit Monticelso. 
 I gather now by this, some cunning fellow 
 That's my lord's officer, and 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. 
 So to make prize of these. And thus it happens : 
 Your poor rogues pay for't which have not the meana 
 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 of murderers, 
 Agents for any viUany. Did I want 
 Ten leash of com'tezans, it would furnish me ; 
 Nay, laundress three armies. That in so little paper 
 Should lie th' undoing of so many men ! 
 'Tis not so big as twenty declarations. i 
 
 See the corrupted use some make of books : 
 Divinity, Avrested by some factious blood. 
 Draws swords, swells battles, and o'erthrows all good. 
 To fashion my revenge more seriously, 
 
 :(
 
 sc. m.] VITTOniA COROMBONA. 
 
 Let mc remember my dead sister's face : 
 Call for her pictmc ? no, I'll close mine eyes, 
 And in a melancholic thouaht I'll frame 
 
 ■o' 
 
 Enter Isabella's ghost. 
 
 Her figure 'fore mc. Now I ha't — how stroncr 
 
 Imagination works ! how she can frame 
 
 Things which are not ! methinks 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 have cause 
 
 Common as sickness. 'Tis my melancholy. 
 
 I low cam'st thou by thy death? — ^how idle am I 
 
 To question mine owji 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? [^Ex'tt Ghost} 
 
 So, now 'tis ended, like an old wife's story. 
 
 Statesmen think often they see stranger sights 
 
 Than njadinen. t'ome, to this weighty business. 
 
 My tragedy nuist have some idle mirth in't. 
 
 Else it will never pass. I am in love, 
 
 III Ii)ve witli Coroinbona ; anil my suit 
 
 Thus halts to her in verse. — \ He writes. 
 
 I have done it rarely: O tlie fate of princes I 
 
 I am so us'd to fretiuent flattery, 
 
 That, being alone, I now flatter myself: 
 
 But it will serve ; 'tis scalM. Hear this 
 
 ' 8up|)liu(l by Mr. Dyco.
 
 80 THE WHITE DEVIL; OB, [act iv. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 To the house of convcrtites, and watch your leiswe 
 
 To give it to the hands of Corombona, 
 
 Or to the matron, when some followers 
 
 Of Brachiano may be by. Away. {Exit Servant. 
 
 Ho that deals all by strength, his wit is shallow ; 
 
 WTion a man's head goes through, each limb will follow. 
 
 The engine for my business, bold count Lodowick ; 
 
 'Tis gold must such an instrument procure, 
 
 "With empty fist no man doth falcons lure. 
 
 Brachiano, I am now fit for thy encounter : 
 
 Like the wdd Irish, I'll ne'er think thee dead 
 
 Till I can play at football with thy head. 
 
 Fleeter e si neqiieo superos, Acheronta moveho. ^Exit. 
 
 ACT IV.— Scene I.^ 
 Enter the JMatron, and Flamineo, 
 
 Matron. 
 ■IIOULD it be known the duke hath such re- 
 com'sc 
 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. 
 
 ' Supplied from the 4to. of 1672.
 
 sc. I.] riTTOItIA COROMBONA. 81 
 
 Enter Seevant. 
 
 Servant. Yonder's Flamineo in conference 
 With the matrona. — Let me speak with you : 
 I would entreat you to deUver for nie 
 This letter to the fair Vittoria. 
 
 Matron. I shall, sir. 
 
 Enter Bbachiano. 
 
 Servant. With all care and secresy ; 
 Hereafter you shall know me, and receive 
 Thanks for this coiu'tesy. [^Eant. 
 
 Flam. How now? what's that? 
 Matron. A letter. 
 
 Flam. To my sister? I'll sec't dcliver'd. 
 Brack. What's that you read, Flamineo ? 
 Flam. Look. 
 
 Brack. Ila ! " To the most unfortunate, his hcst re- 
 spected Vittoria." 
 Wio was the mcsscnfrer? 
 Flam. I know not. 
 Brack. No! who sent it? 
 Flam. Ud'sfoot ! you speak, as if a man 
 Should know what fowl is cotHiiM in a buk'd meat 
 A fore you cut it up. 
 
 Ilidih. I'll open't, wcro't her heart. What's In r.> >iil)- 
 Kcrib'd ! 
 l'li)roncc ! tliis jiiffii^diMg is pross ami palpalilc 
 I liave fouml out the conveyance. Iveail it, read it. 
 
 Flam. " Your tears I'll turn to triumphs, he but mine ; 
 Your prop ia falleu : I pity, that a vine, 
 VOL. u. o
 
 82 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OB, [act iv. 
 
 Which princes heretofore have long'd to gather, 
 Wanting supporters, now should fade and wither." 
 (Wine, i'faith, my lord, with lees would servo 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, 
 "VVlio prefer blossoms before fruit that's mellow?" 
 (Kotten, on my knowledge, with lying too long i'th' bed- 
 straw.) 
 " And all the lines of age this line convinces ; ^ 
 The gods never wax old, no more do princes." 
 A pox on't, tear it ; let's have no more atheists, for God's 
 sake. 
 
 Brack. Ud'sdeath ! I'll cut her into atomies. 
 And let th' irregular north -wind sweep her up, 
 And blow her int' his nostrils : where's this whore ? 
 
 Flam. WTiat ? what do you call her ? 
 
 Brach. O, I could be mad ! 
 Prevent the curs'd disease" she'll bring me to. 
 And tear my hair off. \Miere's this changeable stuff? 
 
 Flam. O'er head and ears in water, I assure you ; 
 She is not for youi' wearing. 
 
 Brach. No, you pander ? 
 
 Flam. What, me, my lord ? am I your dog ? 
 
 Brach. A blood-hound : do you brave, do you stand me ? 
 
 ' Overcomes : a Latinism. 
 
 ' i. e. anticipate (prevenir) the consequences of the foul disease 
 she'll give me ; — one of which is, that the hair falls off.
 
 sc. I.] riTTORIA COROMBONA. 83 
 
 Flam. Stand you ! let those that have diseases run ; 
 I need no plasters. 
 
 Brach. Would you be kick'd ? 
 
 Flam. "Would 30U have your neck broke ? 
 I tell you, duke, I am not in Kussia ; * 
 My shins must be kept whole. 
 
 Brach. Do you know me ? 
 
 Flam. my lord, methodically ! 
 As in tliis 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. 
 
 Brach. Pander, ply your convoy, and leave your prating. 
 
 Flam. All your kindness to me, is like that miserable 
 
 ' It appears from Giles Fletcher's Russe Commonwealth, 1591, 
 p. 51 , that, «n determining an action of debt in thiit country, " the 
 partie convicted is delivered to the Serjeant, who iiath a writte for 
 his warrant out of the Office, to carry him to tiie i'raveusit, or 
 liighter of Justice, if presently hee pay not the inonie, or content 
 not the partie. This Praveush, or lighter, is a phue neere to the 
 office : where such as have sentence passed against them, and re- 
 fuse to pay that which is adjudged, are beaten witii great cudgels 
 on the ihinnes and calves of their legges. Every forenoone from 
 eight to eleven they are set on the Praveush, and beate in this sort 
 till the monie be; payd. The afu,Tnoon(! and niglit time they are 
 kepte in chaines by the Serjeant: except they put in .sullicient 
 suerlies for their appearance at the Pnivrush at the howcr ap- 
 pfiinted. You shall see fortie or fiftie stand tugcthcr on tiic Pra- 
 veuih all on a rowe, and their thinnes thvs becudgelled and bebasted 
 every morning with a piteous crie. if after a yean;'s standing on 
 the rravi-ush, the jiartic will not, or lacke whcrewilliai! tosatislie 
 his cn.'ditonr, it is lawfull for liim to sell his wifi; anil childn-n, 
 eyther outright, <ir for a certain*; tertne of yeari's. And if tin- 
 price of them doo not amount to the full jiayment, the creditour 
 may take lh(!m to bee his bondslaves, for yeares or for ever, lu-- 
 cording as the value of the debt reipiireth." — l{i;i;n. 
 
 ' Ii4,-ferring to the custom of giving poisoned figs or vegetables 
 to those who were the objects either of the Spanish or Italian re- 
 venge. — UcEi>.
 
 84 THE WHITE DEVIL; OR, [act iv. 
 
 courtesy of Poljiihemus to Ulysses ; you reserve me to be 
 devoured last : you would dig turfs out of my grave to feed 
 youi- larks ; that would be music to you. Come, I'll lead 
 you to her. 
 
 Bracli. Do you face me ? 
 
 Flam. O, sir, I would not go before a politic enemy 
 with my back towards him, though there were behind me 
 a whirlpool. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Enter to Vittoria, Brachiano and Flamineo.^ 
 
 Brach. 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. Say, sir? 
 
 Brach. Come, come, let's see your cabinet, discover 
 Youi' treasm'y of love-letters. Death and furies ! 
 I'll see them all. 
 
 Vit. Sir, upon my soul, 
 I have not any. Whence was this directed ? 
 
 Brach. Confusion on your politic- ignorance ! 
 You are reclaim'd, are you ? I'll give you the bells,^ 
 And let you fly to the devil. 
 
 Flam. Ware hawk, my lord. 
 
 Vit. Florence ! this is some treacherous plot, my lord ; 
 To me he ne'er was lovely,* I protest, 
 
 ' Conjecturally. The old editions mark Enter Vittoria to Bra- 
 chiano and Flamineo. 
 
 ^ i. e. politicly feigned. ' As to a hawk. 
 
 * The 4to. of 1612 has " thought on."
 
 sc. n.J VITTORIA COROMBONA. 85 
 
 So much as in my sleep. 
 
 Brack. Eight ! they are plots. 
 Your beauty ! O ten thousand curses on't ! 
 How long have I behold the devil in crystal ! ^ 
 Thou hast led me, like an heathen sacriiice, 
 With masic, and with fatal yokes of flowers, 
 To my eternal loiin. A^'^oman to man 
 Is either a god, or a wolf. 
 
 Vit. My lord. 
 
 Brack. Away ! 
 We'll be as diftcring as two adamants, 
 The one shall shun the other. What ! dost weep ? 
 Procure but ten of thy dissembling trade, 
 Ye'd furnish all the Irish funerals 
 With howling past wild Irish. 
 
 Flam. Fie, my lord ! 
 
 Brack. That hand, that cursed hand, which I have 
 weaiied 
 With doating kisses ! — O my sweetest duchess. 
 How lovely art thou now ! — My loose thoughts 
 Scatter like quicksilver : I was bewitch'd ; 
 For all the world speaks ill of thee. 
 
 Vil. No matter ; 
 I'll live so now, ril make that world recant, 
 And cliango her speeches. You did name your duchess. 
 
 Brack. WHiose death God pardon ! 
 
 Vit. Wliosc deatli (iod revenge 
 
 ' /fnw Inru) hnrr I lulirlil tlir (Irril in rrijutiil. Tln" I'.cril, which is 
 a kinil of crystal, liulh ii weak tincture of re<l in it. AinniiK "I'xt 
 tricks fif aMtroloijcrs, the discovery of past or future! events was 
 8upp<^ise(l to be tin; cr)nHe(|uenc(! of looking; into it. S<;C Aulirc<j'$ 
 Miscellaniei, (p. 154, Itklition of 1857.) — Ki:i;u.
 
 86 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act iv. 
 
 On thee, most godless duke ! 
 
 Flam. Now for ten whirlwinds. 
 
 Vit. "WTiat have I gain'd bj 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 ? 
 Wlio hath the honour to advance Vittoria 
 To this incontinent college ? is't not you ? 
 Is't not your high preferment ? go, go, brag 
 How many ladies you have undone like me. 
 Fare you well, sir ; let me hear no more of you ! 
 I had a limb corrupted to an ulcer, 
 Eut I have cut it off; and now I'll go 
 Weeping to heaven on crul'^hes. For your gifts, 
 I will return them all, and I do wish 
 That I could make you full executor 
 To all my sins. O that I could toss myself 
 Into a grave as quickly ! for all thou art worth 
 I'll not shed one tear more — I'll burst first. 
 
 \_She throivs herself upon a bed. 
 
 BmcJi. I have drunk Lethe : Vittoria ! 
 My dearest happiness ! Vittoria ! 
 "VMiat do you ail, my love ? why do you weep ? 
 
 Vit. Yes, I now weep poniards, do you see ? 
 
 Brack. Are not those matchless eyes mine? 
 
 Vit. I had rather 
 They were not matcliless.
 
 sc. n.] riTTORIA COBOMBONA. 87 
 
 Brack. Is not this lip mine ? 
 
 Vit. Yes ; thus to bite it off, rather than give it thee. 
 
 Flam. Turn to my lord, good sister. 
 
 Vit. Hence, you pander ! 
 
 Flam. Pander ! am I the author of your sin ? 
 
 Vit. Yes ; he's a base thief that a thief lets in. 
 
 Flam. We're blown up, my lord, 
 
 Bracli. Wilt thou hear me ? 
 Once to be jealous of thee, is t'express 
 That I will love thee everlastingly, 
 And never more be jealous. 
 
 Vit. O thou fool. 
 Whose greatness hath by much o'ergrown thy wit ! 
 ^\^lat dar'st thou do, that I not dare to suffer, 
 Excepting to be still thy whore ? for that, 
 In the sea's bottom sooner thou shalt make 
 A bonfire. 
 
 Flam. O, no oatbs, for God's sake ! 
 
 Brack. Will you hear me ? 
 
 Vit. Never. 
 
 Flam. What a damn'd imposthumc is a woman's will ! 
 Can nothing break it? Fie, fie, my lord, 
 Women are caught as you take tortoises, 
 She must be tum'd on her back [^Aside]. — Sister, by tliis 
 
 hand 
 I am on your side — Come, come, you liave wrong'd lior: 
 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 
 WTien once 'tis tows'd and sullied ? And yet, sister. 
 How scurvily this forwardness becomes you I
 
 88 THE WHITE DEVIL; OR, [act iv. 
 
 Young leverets stand not long, and women's anger 
 Should, like their flight, procure a little sport ; 
 A full cry for a quarter of an hour, 
 And then be put to th' dead quat.^ 
 
 Brack. Shall these e^'cs. 
 Which have so long time dwelt upon your face, 
 Be now put out ? 
 
 Flam. No cruel landlady i'th' world, 
 Which lends fortli groats to broom-men, and takes use 
 For them, would do't. 
 
 Hand her, my lord, and kiss her : be not like 
 A ferret, to let go your hold with blowing. 
 
 Brack. Let us renew right hands. 
 
 Vit. Hence ! 
 
 Brack. Never shall rage, or the forgetful wine, 
 Make me commit like fault. 
 
 Ham. 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 natm-es do commit the grossest faults. 
 When they're given o'er to jealousy, as best wine, 
 Dying, makes strongest vinegar. I'll tell you : 
 The sea's more rough and raging than calm rivers. 
 But not so sweet, nor wholesome. A quiet woman 
 Is a still water under a great bridge ; 
 A man may shoot- her safely. 
 
 ' Quat — a corruption of squat. 
 
 ' To shoot the bridfje was a term used by watermen, to signify 
 going througVi London-bridge at the turning of the tide. The 
 vessel then went with great velocity, and from thence it probably 
 was called shooting. — Beed.
 
 sc. II.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 89 
 
 Vit. 3'C dissembling men ! 
 
 Flam. We suck'd that, sister, 
 From women's breasts, in our first infancy. 
 
 Vit. To add misery to misery ! 
 
 Brack. Sweetest ! 
 
 Vit. 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. 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 annfid. O, wo curl-hair'd men 
 Are .still most kind to women ! Tliis is well. 
 
 Brack. 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. 
 My lord, supply your promises with deeds; 
 You know that painted meat no hunger feeds. 
 
 Brack. Stay, ingratcful Home — * 
 
 Flam. Kome ! it deserves to be callM Barbary, 
 For our villnnous usage. 
 
 Brack. Soft ; the same project which the duke of 
 Florence, 
 
 ' I suspect we should read " Stay in ingratcful Rome ! " — Dice.
 
 no THE WHITE DEVIL ; OB, [act iv. 
 
 (\Mictlicr in love or gullery I know not,) 
 Laid down for her escape, will I pursue. 
 
 Flam. And no time fitter than this night, mj lord. 
 The Pope being dead, and all the cardinals entcr'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'll instantly steal forth the prince Giovanni, 
 And make for Padua. You two with yom- old mother, 
 And young Marcello that attends on Florence, 
 If you can work him to it, follow me : 
 I will advance you all ; for you, Yittoria, 
 Think of a duchess' title. 
 
 Flam. Lo you, sister ! 
 Stay, my lord ; I'll tell you a tale. The crocodile, which 
 hves in the river Nilus, hath a worm breeds i'th teeth oft, 
 which puts it to extreme anguish : a little bird, no bigger 
 than a >\Ten, is barber-surgeon to this crocodile ; flies into 
 the jaws oft, picks out the worm, and brings present re- 
 medy. The fish, glad of ease, but ingrateful to her that 
 did it, that the bird may not talk largely of her abroad for 
 non-payment, closeth her chaps, intending to swallow her, 
 and so put her to perpetual silence. But nature, loathing 
 such ingratitude, hath armed this bird with a quill or prick 
 on the head, top o'th' which wounds the crocodile i'th' 
 mouth, forceth her open her bloody prison, and away flies 
 the pretty tooth-picker from her cruel patient. 
 
 Brack. Your application is, I have not rewarded 
 The service you have done me.
 
 sc. u.] riTTORIA COEOMBO^'A. 91 
 
 Ham. No, my lord. 
 You, sister, are the crocodile : you are Uemish'd in your 
 fame, my lord cures it ; and though the comparison hold 
 not in every particle, yet obsen-e, remember, 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 sasre : 
 But this allows my varying of shapes ; 
 Knaves do grow great by being gi-eat men's apes. 
 
 [^Exeunt. 
 
 SCEXE III. 
 
 Enter Fbancisco, Lodovico, Gaspaho, and six 
 Ambassadors. 
 
 Fran. So, my lord, I commend your dihgcnce. 
 Guard well the conclave ; and, as the order is, 
 Let none have conference with the cardinals. 
 
 Lod. I shall, my lord. Room for the anil)assadors. 
 
 Gasp. They're wondrous brave* to-day: wliy 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 Kliodcs ; the next, knight of St. Michael ; 
 That, of the Golilcn Fleece; tlu; Freiiclinian, tlierc, 
 Knight of tlic Holy Ghost ; my lord of Savoy, 
 
 ' Fino.
 
 92 THE WHITE DEVIL; OE, [act iv. 
 
 Knight of th' Annunciation ; the Englisliman 
 
 Is knight of tli' lionour'd Garter, dedicated 
 
 Unto their Saint, St. George. I could descrihe to you 
 
 Their several institutions, with the laws 
 
 Annexed to their orders ; hut that time 
 
 Permits not such discovery. 
 
 Fran. WTiere's count Lodowick ? 
 
 Lod. Here, my lord. 
 
 Fran. '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. ^\lio's this for ? 
 
 Servant. For my lord cardinal Monticelso. 
 
 Lod. "WTiose this ? 
 
 Servant. For my lord cardinal of Bourbon. 
 
 Fr. Amh. \Miy doth he search the dishes '? to observe 
 "VMiat meat is drest ? 
 
 Eruj. Amh. No, sir, but to prevent 
 Lest any letters should be convey'd in, 
 To bribe or to solicit the advancement 
 Of any cardinal. "SMien first they enter, 
 'Tis lawful for the ambassadors of princes 
 To enter with them, and to make their suit 
 For any man their prince affecteth best ; 
 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.
 
 sc. III.] riTTORIA COEOMBONA. 93 
 
 Cardinal [_wit7ii>i]. 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. I'll lay a thousand ducats you hear news 
 Of a Pope presently. Hark ; sure he's elected : 
 Uehold, my lord of Arragon appears j 
 On the chm-ch battlements. 
 
 \_A Cardinal on tlie terrace. 
 
 Arrarjon. Denuntio vohis f/audiian magnum: Reve- 
 rendissimics cardinalis Lorenzo de Monticeho electus est in 
 sedem ajpostolicam, et elerjit sibi nomen Paidum Quartmn.^ 
 
 Omnes. Vivat sanctus ixiter Paulas Quarius! 
 
 Servant. Vittoria, my lord — 
 
 Fran. Well, what of her? 
 
 Servant. Is fled the city. 
 
 Fran. Ila ! 
 
 Servant. Witli duke Brachiano. 
 
 Fran. Fled ! whore's the prince Giovanni ? 
 
 Servant. Gone with his father. 
 
 tran. Let the niatrona of the convcrtitea 
 Be apprehended. Flid? O damnable ! 
 How fortunate arc my wishes! why, 'twas this 
 I only labour'd : I <liil send the letter 
 T'instruct him what to iln. 'i'liy rninc, fniid duke, 
 I fii-st have poison'd ; directed thee tin- way 
 
 ' So in the (juartofl. The sense must be inferred from the con- 
 text. , 
 » Mr. Dycc points out that the name of Paul IV. was not Mon- 
 
 ticclso, but CuraiTa.
 
 94 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act iv. 
 
 To marry a whore ; what can be worse ? this follows : 
 The hand must act to drown the passionate tongue, 
 I scorn to wear a sword and prate of wi'ong. 
 
 Enter Monticelso in state. 
 
 Mont. Coyicedhnus vobis apostolicam benedidionem, et 
 remissioneni peccatoruni. 
 My lord reports Vittorla Corombona 
 Is stol'n from forth the house of convertites 
 By Braehiano, and they're fled the city. 
 Xow, though this be the first day of our seat, 
 We cannot better please the divine power, 
 Than to sequester from the holy church 
 These cursed persons. ]\lake it therefore known, 
 We do denounce excommunication 
 Against them both : all that are theirs in Rome 
 We likewise banish. Set on. [^Exit. 
 
 Fran. 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. Divert me not. 
 Most of his court are of my faction. 
 And some are of my council. Noble friend. 
 Our danger shall be like in this design : 
 Give leave part of the glory may be mine. 
 
 \_Exit Francisco.
 
 sc. m.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 95 
 
 Enter Monticelso. 
 
 Mont. "VMiy (Ikl the duke of Florence with such care 
 Labour your pardon ? say. 
 
 Lod. Italian boggai's will resolve you that, 
 ^^'llO, begging of an ahns, 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, 
 IIow doth the duke employ you, that his bonnet 
 Fell with such compliment unto his knee, 
 When he departed from you ? 
 
 Lod. AMiy, my lord, 
 lie told me of a resty Jiarbaiy horse 
 Which he would fain have brought to the career, 
 The sault, and the ring galliiird: now, my lord, 
 I have a rare French rider. 
 
 Mont. Take you heed, 
 Lest the jade break your neck. Do you put mo vfl' 
 With your wild horse-tricks? SiiTah, you do lie. 
 O, thou'rt a foul black cloud, and thou dost threat 
 A violent storm ! 
 
 Loil. iStonns are i'tli' air, my lord ; 
 I am too low to storm. 
 
 Mont, ^^'rctched creature !
 
 96 THE WHITE DEVIL; OR, [act iv. 
 
 I know that thou art fashion'd for all iU, 
 
 LilvG clogs, that once get blootl, they'll ever kill. 
 
 About some murder, was't not ? 
 
 Lod. rU not tell you : 
 And yet I care not gi'eatly 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'crta'en me. 
 
 Lod. Sir, I did love Brachiano's duchess dearly, 
 Or rather I pursued her with hot lust, 
 Though she ne'er knew on't. She was poison'd ; 
 Upon my soul she was : for which I have sworn 
 T'avengc her murder. 
 
 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 melancliolic yew-tree, 
 Dost tliink to root tliyself in dead men's graves, 
 And yet to prosper? Instruction to thee 
 Comes like sweet showers to o'er-hardcn'd ground ; 
 They wet, but pierce not deep. And so I leave thee, 
 ^^''ith all the furies hanging 'bout thy neck. 
 Till by thy penitence thou remove this evil. 
 In conjuring from thy breast that cruel devil. [^Exit. 
 
 ' Informer.
 
 sc. m.] riTTORIA COROMBONA. 97 
 
 Lod. I'll give it o'er ; he says 'tis damnable : 
 Besides I did expect his suffrage, 
 By reason of Camillo's death. 
 
 Enter Servant and Francisco. 
 
 Fran. Do you know that count ? 
 
 Servant. Yes, my lord. 
 
 Fran. Bear him these tiiousand ducats to his loda'inn'; 
 Tell him the l^)jie hath sent them. Happily* 
 That will confirm more than all the rest. ^Exit. 
 
 Servant. Sir. 
 
 Lod. To me, sir? 
 
 Servant. His Holiness hath sent you a thousand crowns, 
 And wills you, if you travel, to make him 
 Your pation for intelligence. 
 
 Lod. His creature ever to be commanded. — 
 Why now 'tis come about. He ruil'd upon me ; 
 And yet these crowns were told out, and laid ready, 
 JJefore he knew my voyage. O the art. 
 The modest form of greatness ! that do sif. 
 Like brides at wedding-dinners, witli llirii looks (urn'd 
 From the least wantoji jest, their jtuling stomach 
 Sick of th(! modesty, when tlieir thouglits are loose, 
 Even acting of those hot and lustful sports 
 Are to ensue about midnidit: such bis cunnintr! 
 He sounds my depth thus witli a golden plummet. 
 I am doubly arm'd mow. Xow to th' act of liloud. 
 Tlicro's but three furies found in spacious bell, 
 Hut in a great man's breast three thousand dwell. { /Ceil. 
 
 ' I'erclmnco. 
 vol.. ir. H
 
 98 TUE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act iv. 
 
 SCENE IV. AT Padtta. 
 
 A passage over tJie stage of Brachiano, Elamineo, Mar- 
 cello, HORTENSIO, COROMBONA, CoRNELIA, ZaNCIUI;, 
 
 and others : Flamineo and Hortensio remain. 
 
 Flam. In all the weary minutes of my life, 
 Day ne'er broke up till no'.v. 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 cxperienc'd 
 In state affaii-s, or rudiments of war. 
 He hath, by report, serv'd the Venetian 
 In Candy these twice seven years, and been chief 
 In many a bold design. 
 
 Ifort. What arc those two 
 That bear him comjiany ? 
 
 Flam. Two noblemen of Hungary, that, living in the 
 emperor's service as commanders, eight years since, con- 
 trary to the expectation of all the court, entered into re- 
 ligion, into the strict order of Caj)uchins ; but, being not 
 well settled in their undei-taking, they left their order, and 
 returned to court; for which, being after tioublcd in con- 
 science, 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.
 
 sc. lY.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 99 
 
 Hort. 'Tis stranjje. 
 
 Flam. One thing makes it so : they have vow'd for ever 
 to wear, next their bare bodies, those coats of mail they 
 served in. 
 
 Hort. Hard penance ! 
 Is the Moor a Christian ? 
 
 Flam. He is, 
 
 Hort. Wliy proffers he liis service to our duke ? 
 
 Flam,. Because he understands there's like to jrrow 
 Some wars between us and the duke of Florence, 
 In which he hopes employment. 
 I never saw one in a stern bold look 
 Wear more command, nor in a lofty phrase 
 Ivxprcss 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'exprcss. 
 That all, that should dispute with him, may know. 
 Glories, like glow-worms, afar off shine hiight. 
 But look'd to near, have neither heat nor light. 
 The duke. 
 
 Enter BnACiiiAxo, Francisco dlsfjuisetUil-e MruNASSAn, 
 LoDOVico and (xASPAno, hearimj their swords, their 
 helmets dotvn, Antoxklli, Farnkse. 
 
 Brach. You arc nobly welcome. We have lieard at full 
 Y'our honourable service 'gainst tlio Turk. 
 To you, brave Muliniussar, we assign 
 A competent pf-nsion ; and are inly sorry, 
 The vowH of tlio.Hc two worthy gcntb'nicn 
 Make them incapable of our proffer "d bounty.
 
 iOO THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act iv. 
 
 Your wish is, you may leave your warlike swords 
 
 For moiuimcnts in our chapel : I accept it, 
 
 As a great honour clone nie, and must crave 
 
 Your leave to furnish out our duchess' 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 Kome to their own countries, 
 
 To grace our marriage, and to honour me 
 
 With such a kind of sport. 
 
 Fran. I shall persuade them to stay, my lord. 
 Brach.^ Set on there to the presence. 
 
 [^Exeunt Brachiano, Flamineo, and Hortensio. 
 Lod. Noble my lord, most fortunately welcome ; 
 
 [27ic conspirators here embrace. 
 You have our vows, seal'd with the sacrament, 
 To second your attempts. 
 
 Gas. And all things ready ; 
 He could not have invented his own ruin 
 (Had he despair'd) with more propriety. 
 Lod. You would not take my way. 
 Fran. 'Tis better ordcr'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, — that, that ! 
 That while he had been bandying at tennis. 
 He might have sworn himself to hell, and strook 
 
 ' TillitifT-miitch. 
 
 ^ A con ection by Mr. Dycc. The quartos all give the line to 
 Francisco.
 
 sc. IV.] riTTORIA COROMBONA. 101 
 
 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. There's no way 
 More speeding than this thought on. 
 Lod. On then. 
 
 Fran. And yet methinks that this revenge is poor, 
 Because it steals upon him 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'il him witii a wreath of stinking garlic ; 
 T' have shown the sharpness of his goverimient. 
 And rankncss of his lust. Flamineo comes. 
 
 [Exeunt Lodovico, Antonelli, and Gasparo. 
 
 Enter Fr-.\MiNKO, AlAncELLO, and Zanciie. 
 
 Mar. Why doth this devil haunt you, say? 
 Flam. I know nut : 
 For by this light, 1 iId not conjuic lur iior. 
 'Tis not so gix-at a cunning as men think, 
 To raise the devil ; for here's one up already ; 
 The greatest cunning were to lay him down. 
 Mar. She is your shame. 
 I'lam. I prithee pardon her. 
 In faith, yon sec, women arr like (o ))in's, 
 \Vh(;re their affection throws tiieni, there they'll stick. 
 Zfinche. That is my countryman, a goodly person ; 
 AVhen he's at leisure, Fll discourse with him 
 In our own language. 
 
 Flam. 1 beseech you do. [Exit Zatichf.
 
 102 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act iv. 
 
 How is't, brave soldier? that I had seen 
 Some of your iron days ! I pray relate 
 Some of your service to us. 
 
 Fran. 'Tis a ridiculous thing for a hian to he 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. I shall never flatter him : I have studied man too 
 much to do that, \\liat difference is between the duke and 
 I ? no more than between two bricks, all made of one clay : 
 only't may be one is placed on the top of a turret, the other 
 in the bottom of a well, by mere chance. If I were placed 
 as high as the duke, I should stick as fast, make as fair a 
 shew, and bear out weather equally. 
 
 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. How have you thrived ? 
 
 Mar. Faith, poorly. 
 
 Fran. That's the misery of peace : only outsides are then 
 respected. As ships seem very great upon the river, which 
 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 appear pitiful pigmies. 
 
 Flam. Give me a fair room yet hung with arras, and 
 some great cardinal to lug me by th' cars, as his endeared 
 minion. 
 
 Fran. And thou mayest do the devil knows what villany. 
 
 Flam. And safely. 
 
 Fran. Eight : you shall see in the country, in harvest-
 
 8c. IV.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 103 
 
 time, pigeons, though they destroy never so much corn, the 
 farmer dare not present tlie 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 politic instructions. 
 The duke says he will give you pension ; that's but bare 
 promise ; get it under his hand. For I have known men 
 that have come from sorvinc: ajjainst the Turk, for three or 
 four month.s they have had pension to buy them new wooden 
 legs, and fresh plasters ; Init 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 cle Medicis.^ 
 
 Enter IIobtensio, a Young Lord, Zanche, 
 and two more. 
 
 How now, gallants? what, are they ready for the barriers? 
 
 Youmj Lord. Fes : the lords are putting on their armour. 
 
 Hort. What's he? 
 
 Flam. A new up-start ; one that swears like a falconer, 
 and will lie in tlir duke's oar day l)y day, liki' a inakii' oT 
 almanacks: and yet \ knew liini, since he canic Ni ilT court. 
 smell worse of sweat tliaii an nndci- tcnnis-courtkcepcr. 
 
 Ilort. Look you, yondei's your sweet mistress. 
 
 Fffiiii. 'I'hou art my sworn brother: I'll tell \hoo, I do 
 love that Moor, that witch, very constrainedly. 8Iie kiiows 
 
 ' Tlif! 4tos. (In not murk tlic exit of I'Viiiiciscn ; hut it is tk.'ccs- 
 sary to gut rid of liiin, us lit- tnUrs tuwurds llir end nl' iliis mtiu!. 
 
 Dvci:.
 
 104 THE WHITE DEVIL; Oil, f act iv. 
 
 some of my villany. I do love her just as a man holds a 
 wolf by the ears ; but for fear of her turning upon me, and 
 pulling out my throat, I would let her go to the devil. 
 
 Hort. I hear she claims marriage 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 ofi^, and yet 
 dares not look behind liim. jS^ow, my precious gipsy. 
 
 Zunclie. Ay, your love to me rather cools than heats. 
 
 Flam. Marry, I am the sounder lover ; we have many 
 wenches about the town heat too fast. 
 
 Hort. What do you think of these perfumed gallants, 
 then? 
 
 Flam. Their satin cannot save them : I am confident 
 They have a certain spice of the disease ; 
 For they that sleep with dogs shall rise with fleas, 
 
 Zanclie. Believe it, a Utile painting and gay clothes make 
 you love me. 
 
 Flam. How, love a lady for painting or gay apparel? I'll 
 unkennel one example more for thee. yEsop 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 protesting to drink- 
 ing. And yet, an)ongst gentlemen, protesting and drinking 
 go together, and agree as well as shoemakers and West- 
 phalia 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 ?
 
 sc. IV.] VITTORTA COROMBONA. 105 
 
 Enter Cornelia. 
 
 Cor. Is this your perch, you hac^gard ? fly to th' stews. 
 
 Flam. You should be clapt by th' heels now : strike i'th' 
 couil; ! , [^Exit Cornelia.^ 
 
 Zanfhe. She's good for nothing, but to make her maids 
 Catch cold a-nights : they dare not use a bed-staff, 
 For fear of her light fingers. 
 
 Mar. You're a strumpet, 
 An impudent one. 
 
 Flam. ^^ by do you kick her, say? 
 Do you think tiiat she's like a walnut tree? 
 Must she be cudgeil'd ere she bear good fruit? 
 
 Mar. She brags that you shall marry her. 
 
 Flam. What then ? 
 
 Mar. I had rather she were pitch'd updii a stake, 
 In some new-seeded garden, to affright 
 Her fellow crows (hence. 
 
 Flam. You're a boy, a f(tn] 
 Be guardian to your bound ; 1 am of age. 
 
 Mar. If I fake bcr near you, I'll cut her throat. 
 
 Flam. With a fan of feathers? 
 
 Mar. And, fm you. III whip 
 This folly from yon. 
 
 Flam. Are you clioleric ? 
 I'll piirgo't with rbultarb. 
 
 J/ort. (), your brotbcr I 
 
 Flam. Hang him, 
 
 ' TIic exit i>f Cornflift is nut nntf'd in tlic 'Itns.; Imt it is ovi- 
 •Icnt frnni wimt slio niiys aflcrwarils tli:it sin- is not un tliu ulugo 
 during tho duaflly (luurrel ol' lier sons. — Dyce.
 
 106 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OB, [act iv. 
 
 He wrongs me most, that ought t'ofFend mc least : 
 I do suspect my mother play'd foul play, 
 Wlien slie conceiv'd thee. 
 
 Mar. Kovv, hy all my hopes, 
 Like the two slaughter'd sons of Oedipus, 
 The very flames of oui- affection 
 
 Shall turn two ways. Those words I'll make thee answer 
 With thy heart-blood. 
 
 Flam. Do, like the geese in the progress ; 
 You know where you shall find me. 
 
 Mar. Very good. \^Exit Flamineo. 
 
 And thou be'st a noble friend, bear him my sword. 
 And bid him fit the length on't. 
 
 Young Lord. Sir, I shall. \_Exeunt all hut Zanche. 
 
 Zanclie. He comes. Hence petty thought of my dis- 
 grace ! 
 
 Enter Fhancisco. 
 I ne'er lov'd my complexion till now, 
 'Cause I may boldly say, without a blush, 
 I love you. 
 
 Fran. Your love is untimely sown ; there's a spring at 
 Michaelmas, but 'tis but a faint one : I am sunk in years, 
 and I have vowed never to mairy. 
 
 Zanche. Alas ! poor maids get more lovers than hus- 
 bands : yet you may mistake my wealth. For, as when am- 
 bassadors arc sent to congratulate princes, there's commonly 
 sent along with them a rich pi'csent, so that, though the 
 prince like not the ambassador's person, nor words, yet he 
 likes well of the presentment ; so I may come to you in the 
 same manner, and be better luved for my dowry than my 
 virtue.
 
 6c. IV.] riTTORTA COROMBONA. 107 
 
 Fran. 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 : 
 Xor blame me that this passion I reveal ; 
 Lovers die inward that their flames conceal. 
 
 Fran. Of all intelligence this may prove the best : 
 Sure I shall draw strange fowl from this foul nest. 
 
 [^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 Enter Mahcello and Coenelia. 
 
 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 nimour. 
 
 Cor. Will you dissemble ? sure you do not well 
 To fright me thus : you never look thus pale, 
 JJut when you are most angry. I do charge you, 
 Upon my blessing — nay, I'll call the duke. 
 And he shall school you. 
 
 Mar. I'ublish not a fear, 
 Which would convert to laughter : 'tis not so. 
 Was not this crucifix my father's ? 
 
 Cor. i'es. 
 
 Mar. I have hoard you say, giving n)y brother suck, 
 He took the crucifix between his iiands, 
 
 Enter Flamlneo. 
 
 And l)rok»' a limb off. 
 
 Cor. Yes ; but 'lis mended.
 
 108 THE WUITE DEVIL; OE, [act iv. 
 
 Flam. I have brought your weapon back. 
 
 IFlamineo runs MarceUo through. 
 Cor. Ha ! O my horror ! 
 Mar. You have brought it home, indeed. 
 Cor. Help ! O he's murder'd ! 
 Flam. Do you turn your gall up ? I'll to sanctuary. 
 And send a sm-geon to you. \^Exit. 
 
 Enter Lodovico, Hortensio and Gaspaeo. 
 
 Hort. 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, 
 Wliose branches spread no wilder than the root. \^T)ies. 
 
 Cor. O my perpetual sorrow ! 
 
 Uort. ^'irtuous Marcello ! 
 He's dead. Pray leave him, lady : come, you shall. 
 
 Cor. Alas ! he is not dead ; he's in a trance. Why 
 here's nobody shall get anything by his death. Let me 
 call him again, for God's sake ! 
 
 Loci. 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 bleeding inward will 
 kill him. 
 
 Hort. You see he is departed. 
 
 Cor. Let me come to him ; give me him as he is ; if 
 he be turn'd to earth, let me but give him one hearty kiss, 
 and you shall put us both into one coffin. Fetch a looking-
 
 sc. v.] riTTORIA COROMBONA. 109 
 
 glass : see if his breath will not stain it ; or pull out some 
 feathers from my pillow, and lay them to his hps. Will 
 vou lose him for a little pains-takino-? 
 
 Hort. Your kiiulost otKcc is to pray for him. 
 
 Cor. Alas ! I would not pray for him yet. lie may 
 live to lay me i'th' ground, and pray for me, if you'll let 
 me come to him. 
 
 Enter BEACniANo all armed, save the heaver, tvith 
 Flamixeo and others. 
 
 Brach. Was this your handy-work? 
 
 Flam. It was my misfortune. 
 
 Cor, lie lies, he lies ! he did not kill him : these have 
 killed him, that would not let him be better looked to. 
 
 Brach. Have comfort, my griev'd mother. 
 
 Cor. you screech-owl ! 
 
 I fort. Forbear, good madam. 
 
 Cor. Let me go, let me go. 
 
 \_>Slie runs to Flamineo tvith her Icnife drawn, 
 and coming to him lets it fall. 
 The God of heaven forgive thee ! Dost not wonder 
 I pray for thee? Ill tell thee what's the reason: 
 I have scarce breath to number twenty minutes ; 
 I'd not spcml (hat in cursing. Fare tlice well : 
 Half of tliy^flf lies there ; and niay'st thou live 
 To till an hour-glass with his niouldur'd a-hes, 
 To tell how thou should'rtt spend the time to como 
 In blest ropcntancc ! 
 
 Brack. .Mother, pray t<ll ino 
 How came lie by his death ? what was the quarrel ? 
 
 Cor. Indi-ed, my younger boy presinnM too njucli 
 Upon his manhood, gave him bitter words,
 
 110 THE WHITE DEVIL; OR, [act iv. 
 
 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 alread}' ; it were vain 
 T'losc this, for that will ne'er be found again. 
 
 Brack. Go, bear the body to Cornelia's lodging: 
 And we command that none acquaint our duchess 
 With this sad accident. For you, Flamineo, 
 Hark you, I will not grant your pardon. 
 
 Flam. No? 
 
 Brack. Only a lease of your life ; and that shall last 
 But for one day : thou shalt be forc'd each evening 
 To renew it, or be hang'd. 
 
 Flam. At your pleasure. 
 [^Lodovico sprinkles Brackiand's heaver with a poison. 
 
 Enter Francisco.^ 
 
 Your will is law now, I'll not meddle with it. 
 
 Brack. You once did brave me in your sister's lodging : 
 I'll now keep you in awe for't. Where's our beaver? 
 
 Fran. He calls for his 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 murder. 
 
 [^Exeunt. 
 \_Ckarges and skouts. Tkey Jlgkt at harriers ;^ 
 first single pairs, tken three to three. 
 
 ' The entrance is not noted in tlie ok] editions, but it is obvious. 
 
 * B'lriinrs. " Barriers, iVom the French i*«r/c.s-, a martial sport 
 or exercise of ni('n armed, and fif^htinj^ tofielhcr with short swordi 
 within certain Barres or lists." — CowiiL's Interpreter.
 
 sc. I.] riTTORIA COROMBONA. Ill 
 
 ACT V.'— Scene I. 
 Enter Beachiano and Flamineo, ivitli others. 
 
 Brachiano. 
 X amiourer ! ud's death, an armouror ! 
 
 Flam. Armourer! whcrc's the armourer? 
 
 BracJi. Tear off my beaver. 
 Flam. Are you huit, my lord? 
 Brack. O, my brain's on fire I 
 
 Enter AmiovRKU. 
 
 The helmet is poison'd. 
 
 Armourer. My luid, upon my soul — 
 
 Brack. Away with him to torture. 
 There are some great ones that ha\c hand in this, 
 And near about me. 
 
 Enter Vittoria CoRorBONA.- 
 
 Vit. O, my lov'd lord ! poison'd ! 
 Fhnn. Jifinovc the bar. Here's unfortunate revels I 
 Call the physicians. 
 
 Enter two Physicians. 
 
 A pla^^ic ujion you ! 
 
 We have too much of your cunning hero already : 
 i fear the ambassadois are likewise poison'd. 
 Bravh. (). I ;un gone already ! the infection 
 
 ' Supplied from the 4to. of 1605. 
 
 * lltT (tnlniiHc is only marked in the old editions by the initial 
 preceding what she 8uy».
 
 112 THE WITTTE DEVIL; OR, [act v. 
 
 Flics to the brain and heart. O tliou strong heart ! 
 There's such a covenant 'tween the world and it, 
 They're loatli to hi'oak. 
 
 Giov. O my most loved father ! 
 
 Brack. Keniove the boy away. 
 Where's this good woman ? Had I infinite worlds, 
 They were too little for thee : must I leave thee ? 
 What say you, screech-owls, is the venom mortal ? 
 
 Phys. Most deadly. 
 
 Brack. Most corrupted politic hangman. 
 You kill without book ; but youi- art to save 
 Fails you as 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 twelve-month? 
 Do not kiss me, for I shall poison thee. 
 This unction is sent fi-om the great duke of Florence. 
 
 Fran. Sir, be of comfort. 
 
 Brack. 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 ])rinces'. 
 
 Vit. I am lost for ever. 
 
 Brack. How miserable a thing it is to die 
 
 o 
 
 Enter Lodovico and Gasparo, as Capuckins.^ 
 
 'Mongst women howling ! what are those? 
 
 ' Their entrance is not marked in the quartos, but it is obvious 
 from the conte.\t.
 
 sc. I.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 113 
 
 Flam. Fi-anciscans : 
 They have brouglit the extreme unction. 
 
 Brack. On pain of death, let no man name death to me : 
 It is a word infinitely terrible. 
 Withdiaw into our cabinet. 
 
 [^Exeunt all bid Francisco and Flamineo. 
 
 Flam. To see what solitariness is about dying princes ! 
 as heretofore they have unpeopled towns, divorced friends, 
 and made gi-eat houses unhospitable, so now, O justice ! 
 where are their flatterers now ? flatterers are but the sha- 
 dows of princes' bodies ; the least thick cloud makes them 
 invisible. 
 
 Fran. There's gi'eat moan made for him. 
 
 Flam. 'Faith, for some few hours salt-water will run most 
 plentifully in every ofiice o'th'comt; but, believe it, most 
 of them do but weep over their stepmothers' graves. 
 
 Fran. How mean you? 
 
 Flam, ^^^ly, they dissemble ; as some men do that live 
 within compass o'th' verge.' 
 
 Fran. Come, you have thrived well under him. 
 
 Flam. 'Faith, like a wolf in a woman's breast ;* I have 
 been fed with poultry : but foi- money, understand mc, I had 
 nn good a will to cozen him ii^ e'er an officer of them all ; 
 but I had not cuuniii'f enou<:h to do it. 
 
 Fran. Whatdidsttliou think of him? 'faith, speak freely. 
 
 Flam. JIo was a kind of stJitesman, that would sooner 
 have reckoned how many cannon-bullets he had discharged 
 against a town, to count his expense that way, than h<»w 
 
 ' i. 0. of tho .Tiiris<licti<»n of tlio (!(iurt. 
 
 ' Tli<> rrnvinf^s of wnmcn diiriiifj prcf^nnncy wprf nnpicnilv 
 nrrfiiinU'd for liy suppubing souiu voraciMU.s uuiinul to bu wiiliiii 
 thcni. — Steeve.ns. 
 
 VOL. II. I
 
 114 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act v. 
 
 many of his valiant and deserving subjects he lost be- 
 fore it. 
 Fran. O, speak well of the duke ! 
 Flam. I have done. 
 
 Enter LoDOVico. 
 
 Wilt hear sorne of my court- wisdom ? To reprehend princes 
 is dangerous ; and to over-commend some of them is pal- 
 pable lying. 
 
 Fran. How is it with the duke ? 
 
 Lod. Most deadly ill. 
 He's fall'n into a strange distraction : 
 He talks of battles and inonopohes, 
 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 ijcar too lofty crest, 
 Though they live happiest yet they die not best. 
 He hath conferral the whole state of the dukedom 
 Upon your sister, till the prince arrive 
 At mature age. 
 
 Flam. There's some good luck in that yet. 
 
 Fran. See, here he comes. 
 
 Enter Bkachiano, presented in q, bed, Vittoria, 
 and others. 
 
 There's death in's face already. 
 Vit. O my good lord ! 
 Brack. Away, you have abus'd me : 
 
 [These speeches are several Jcinds of distractions, 
 and in the action should appear so.
 
 SCI.] VITTORTA COROMBONA. 115 
 
 You have convey'd coin forth om- territories, 
 Bought and sold offices, oppress'd the poor, 
 And I ne'er dreamt on't. Make up your accounts, 
 I'll now be mine own steward. 
 Flam. Sir, have patience. 
 Brack. Indeed, I am to blame : 
 For did you ever hear the dusky raven 
 Chide blackness '? or was't ever known the devil 
 Kail'd against cloven creatm'es? 
 Vit. O my lord ! 
 
 Bracli. Let me have some quails to supper. 
 Flum. Sir, you shall. 
 
 Brack. No, some fried dog-fish ; yom* quails feed on poi- 
 son. 
 That old dog-fox, that politician, Florence ! 
 I'll forswear hunting, and turn dog-killer. 
 Hare ! I'll be friends with him ; for, mark you, sir, one dog 
 Still sets another abarking. Peace, peace ! 
 Yonder's a Hue slave come in now. 
 Flam. Where? 
 Brack. Why, there, 
 In a blue bonnet, and a pair of breeches 
 With a great cod-piece : ha, ha, ha ! 
 lifiuk you, his cod-piece is stuck full of pins, 
 With pearls o'th' head of tlieni. Do not you know liiiu? 
 FUnn. No, my lord. 
 Brack. Why 'tis the devil. 
 I know him by a great rose ho wears on's shoe, 
 To hide his cloven foot, i II dispute with him ; 
 ilc'a a rare linguist. 
 
 Vit. My lord, hcrc'fi nothing.
 
 116 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OB, [act v. 
 
 Bracli. Nothing ! rare ! nothing ! when I want money, 
 Our ti-easury is empty, there is nothing : 
 I'll not be us'd thus. 
 
 Vit. O, lie still, my lord ! 
 
 Brach. See, see Damineo, that kill'd his brother, 
 Is dancing on the roi)e.s there, and he carries 
 A money-bag in each hand, to keep him even. 
 For fear of brealdng's neck : and there's a lawyer. 
 In a gown whipt with velvet, stares and gapes 
 "WTien the money will fall. How the rogue cuts capers ! 
 It should have been in a halter. 'Tis there ; what's she? 
 
 Flam. Vittoria, my lord. 
 
 Brach. Ha, ha, ha ! her hair is sprinld'd with anas 
 powder,^ 
 That makes her look as if she had sinn'd in the pastry. 
 \^niat'she? 
 
 Flam. A di^nne, my lord. 
 
 l^Brachiano seems here near his end ; Lodovico and 
 Gasparo, in the hahit of Capuchins, present him 
 in his hed iviih a crucifi^v and hallowed candle. 
 
 Brach. He will be chunk ; avoid him : th' argument 
 Is fearful, when chm-chmen stagger in't. 
 Look you, six grey rats that have lost their tails 
 Crawl up the pillow ; send for a rat-catcher : 
 I'll do a miracle, I'U free the court 
 From all foul vennin. Where's Flaminco ? 
 
 Flam. I do not like that he names mc so often. 
 Especially on's death-bed ; 'tis a sign 
 
 ' Arras powder. There may have been a hair-powder so called 
 from Arras in France, but I do not remember to have found it 
 mentioned by any writer. Qy. ought we to read " orris?" — 
 Dyce.
 
 sc. I.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 117 
 
 I shall not live long. Sec, he's near his end. 
 
 Lod. Pray, give us leave. Attende, domine Brachiatu. 
 
 Flam. See, see how fii-mly he doth fix his eye 
 Upon the crucifix. 
 
 Vit. O hold it constant ! 
 It settles his wild spirits ; and so his eyes 
 Melt into tears. 
 
 Lod. Domine Brachiane, solehas in hello tutus esse tuo 
 clypeo ; nunc liunc chjpeum hosti tuo opponas infernali. 
 
 \^Bij the crucifix. 
 
 Gas. Olini Jiastd valuisti in hello ; nunc lianc sacram 
 hastam vihrahis contra Jiostem animarum. 
 
 [By the halloived taper. 
 
 Lod. Attende, domine Brachiane, si nunc quoqueprohas 
 ea, qu/ie acta sunt inter nos,Jlecte caput in dextrum. 
 
 Gas. Esto securus, domine Brachiane ; cogita, quantum 
 haheas meritorum ; denique memineris meam animam pro 
 tuu oppyitjnoratam si quid esset periculi. 
 
 Lod. 8i nunc quoqueprohas ea, quae acta sunt inter nos, 
 flecte caput in Icevum. 
 He is departing: pray stan<l all apart. 
 And let us only whisper in his oars 
 Some private meditations, wliicji our order 
 Permits you iKjt to hear. 
 
 [Jlere, the rest heiiuj departed, Lodovico and 
 Gasparo discover themselves. 
 
 Gas. Brnchiano. 
 
 fjod.. Devil Jjrachiano, thou art dninnM. 
 
 Gas. Perjietually. 
 
 Lod. A slave condenm'd, and given up to the gallows, 
 Is thy gi-eat lord and master.
 
 118 TUE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act v. 
 
 Gas. True ; for thou 
 Art given up to the devil. 
 
 Loci. O, you slave ! 
 You that were hehl the famous pohtlcian, 
 "Whose art was poison. 
 
 Gas. And whose conscience, miuxler. 
 
 Lod. That woidd have broke your wife's neck down the 
 stairs, 
 Ere she was poison'd. 
 
 Gas. That had your villanous sallcts. 
 
 Lod. And fine embroider'd bottles, and perfumes, 
 Equally mortal with a winter plague. 
 
 Gas. Now there's merciu-y — 
 
 Lod. And copperas — 
 
 Gas. And quicksilver — 
 
 Lod. With other devilish 'pothccary stuff, 
 A melting in your politic brains: dost hear? 
 
 Gas. This is count Lodo\'ico. 
 
 Lod. This, Gaspare ; 
 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. 
 
 Bracli. Vittoria ! Vittoria ! 
 
 Lod. O, the cursed devil 
 Comes to himself again ! we are undone. 
 
 Gas. Strangle him in private. 
 
 Enter Vittokia and the Attendants. 
 \Miat ! will you call him again
 
 sc. I.] VITTOEIA COROMBONA. 119 
 
 To live in treble torments ? for charity, 
 For christian charity, avoid the chamber. 
 
 [ Vittoria and the rest retire. 
 
 Lod. You woulil prate, sir ? This is a true-love-knot 
 Sent from the duke of Florence. 
 
 [^Brachiano is strangled. 
 
 Gas. "\\Tiat, is it done ? 
 
 Lod. The snuff is out. Xo woman-keeper i'th' world. 
 Though she had practis'd seven year at the post-house/ 
 Could have done't quaintlier. My lords, he's dead. 
 
 ViTTbRiA and the others come forward. 
 
 Omnes. Rest to his soul ! 
 
 Vit. O me ! this place is hell. [^Exit. 
 
 Fran. IIow heavily she takes it ! 
 
 Flam. O, yes, yes; 
 Had women navigable rivers in their eyes, 
 They would dispend them all. Surely, I wonder 
 "WTiy we should wish more rivers to the city, 
 "NVTicn they sell water so good cheap. I'll tell thee, 
 These are but moonish shades of griefs or fears ; 
 'I'here's nothing sooner dry than women's tears. 
 \Miy, 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. Sure tliis was Florence' doing. 
 
 Flam. Very likely : 
 Those arc found weighty strokes which come from tli' liaiid, 
 
 ' In alliisinn to tlu- stninplings done, to save themselves trouble, 
 by nurttes on plague putient.s.
 
 120 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act v. 
 
 But those are killing strokes which come fi'om th' head. 
 O, the rare tricks of a Machiaveliaii ! 
 He doth not come, like a gross plodding slave, 
 And buffet you to death; no, my quaint knave, 
 He tickles you to death, makes you die laughing, 
 As if you had swallow'd down a pound of saffron. 
 You see the feat, 'tis practis'd in a trice ; 
 To teach court honesty, it jumps on ice. 
 
 Fran. 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, 
 But for not doing all that all men ^vill : 
 One were better be a thresher. 
 Ud'sdeath ! I would fain speak with this duke yet. 
 
 Fran. Now he's dead ? 
 
 Flam. I cannot conjure ; but if prayers or oaths 
 "Will get to th' speech of him, though forty devils 
 Wait on him in his livery of flames, 
 I'll speak to him, and shake him by the hand, 
 Though I be blasted. {^Exit. 
 
 Fran. Excellent Lodovico ! 
 AMiat ! did you terrify him at the last gasp ? 
 
 Lod. Yes, and so idly, that the duke had like 
 T'have terrified us. 
 
 Fran. How? 
 
 Enter the Moor. 
 
 Lod. You shall hear that hereafter. 
 See, yen's the infernal, that would make up sport.
 
 SCI.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 121 
 
 Xow to tlie revelation of tliat secret 
 
 She promis'd when she fell in love with you. 
 
 Fran. You're passionately met in this sad world. 
 
 Zanche. I would have you look up, sir; these coui't- 
 tears 
 
 Claim not your tribute to them: let those weep, 
 That guiltily partake in the sad cause. 
 I knew last night, by a sad dieani I had. 
 Some mischief would ensue ; yet, to say truth, 
 My dream most concern'd you. 
 
 Lod. Shall's fall a dreamino;? 
 
 Fran. Yes, and for fashion sake I'll di-eam with her. 
 
 Zanche. Methought, sir, you came stealing to my bed. 
 
 Fran. Wilt thou believe me, sweeting ? by this light, 
 I was a-dreamt on thee too ; for methought 
 I saw thee naked. 
 
 Zanche. Fie, sir ! as I told you, 
 Methought you lay down by me. 
 
 Fran. So dreamt I ; 
 And lest thou should'st take cold, I cover'd thee 
 With this Irish mantle. 
 
 ZancJie. Verily I did dream 
 You were somewhat Ijold with me : but to come t<j't. 
 
 Lod. How ! how ! I hope you will not go to't here. 
 
 Fran. Nay, you must hear my dream out. 
 
 Z<inche. Well, sir, forth. 
 
 Fran. When I threw the mantle o'er thee, thou didat 
 laugh 
 . Exceedingly, methought. 
 
 Zanche. ImwAx ! 
 
 Fran. And cricd'st out, the hair did tickle thee.
 
 122 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OB, [act v. 
 
 Zanche. There was a dream indeed ! 
 
 Lod. Mark lior, I prithee, she simpers like the suds 
 A collier hath heen wash'd in. 
 
 Zanche. Come, sir ; good fortune tends 3'ou. I did tell 
 you 
 I would reveal a secret : Isabella, 
 The duke of Florence' sister, was impoison'd 
 By a fum'd picture ; and Camillo's neck 
 Was broke by damn'd Flamineo, the mischance 
 Laid on a vaulting-horse. 
 
 Fran. Most strange ! 
 
 ZancJie. Most true. 
 
 Lod. The bed of snakes is broke. 
 
 Zanche. I sadly do confess, I had a hand 
 In the black deed. 
 
 Fran. Thou kept'st their coimsel. 
 
 Zanche. Eight; 
 For which, urg'd with contrition, I intend 
 This night to rob \'ittoria. 
 
 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 
 "Will further our escape. In coin and jewels 
 I shall at least make good unto your use 
 An hundi'cd thousand crowns. 
 
 Fran. O, noble wench ! 
 
 Lod. Those crowns we'll share. 
 
 Zanche. It is a do^>Ty, 
 Methinks, should make that sim-bumt proverb false,
 
 SCI.] VITTOBIA COROMEONA. 123 
 
 And wash the ^thiop white. 
 
 Fran. It shall ; away. 
 
 Zanclie. Be readvfor our flight. 
 
 Fran. An hour 'fore day. \_Exit Zanche. 
 
 O, sti'ange 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. There. \_Exit Zanche. 
 
 Lod. AMiy, now our action's justified. 
 
 Fran. Tush, for justice ! 
 Wlaat harms it justice ? we now, like the partridge, 
 Purge the disease with laurel ;* for the fame 
 Shall crown the cntei-prize, and quit^ the shame. {^Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Flamixt.o and GASP.vno, at one door; another 
 loay, GiovANXi, attended. 
 
 Gas. The young duke: did you e'er sec a sweeter prince? 
 
 Flam. I have known a poor woman's bastard better 
 favoured : this is boliind liim ; now, to his face, all com- 
 parisons were liatoful. \\'ise was the courtly peacock, that, 
 being a great minion, and being compared for beauty by 
 some dottrels that stood by to the kingly eagle, said the 
 eagle was a far fairer Imd tlmn herself, not in respect of 
 her feathers, but in respect of her long tallants:'' bis will 
 grow out in time. — My gracious lord, 
 
 ' S(t Pliny: " Palumbcs, pnicruli, mcrul.'p, /K-n/irc* lauri folio 
 annuum ftixliiliitm purgant." — Aal. JJisl. lib. viii. c. 27. — UliKU. 
 ' Ac(|iiit. 
 ' An olil fonn of talon*.
 
 124 THE WHITE DEVIL; OB, [act v. 
 
 Gio. I pray leave me, sir. 
 
 Flam. Your grace must be merry : 'tis I have cause to 
 mourn ; for wot you, what said the little boy that rode beliind 
 his father on horseback ? 
 
 Gio. \Nliy, what said he ? 
 
 Flam. When you are dead, father, said lie, I hope then 
 I shall ride in the saddle. O, 'tis a brave thing for a man 
 to sit by himself! he may stretch himself in the stirrups, 
 look about, and see the whole compass of the hemisphere. 
 You're now, my lord, i' th' saddle. 
 
 Gio. Study your prayers, sir, and be penitent : 
 'Twere fit you'd think on what hath former been ; 
 I have heard grief nam'd the eldest child of sin. [^Exlt. 
 
 Flam. Study my prayers ! he threatens me divinely ! 1 
 am falling to pieces already. I care not, though, like 
 Anacliarsis, I were pounded to death in a mortar : and yet 
 that death were fitter for usurers, gold and themselves to be 
 beaten together, to make a most cordial cullis* for the devil. 
 Pie hath his uncle's villanous look already, 
 
 Enter Courteeii. 
 
 In decimo 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 liim 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. 
 
 ' Cullis. — The French coulis, a strong rich soup or jelly. 
 * i. e. though but in his sixteenth year.
 
 sc. I.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 125 
 
 Flam. Verily, master courtier, extremity is not to be 
 used in all offices: say, that a gentlewoman were taken 
 out of her bed about midnight, and committed to Castle 
 Angelo, to the tower yonder, with nothing about her but 
 her smock, woidd 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 mc? a flam- 
 ing fire-brand casts more smoke without a chimney than 
 within't. I'll smoor* some of them. 
 
 Enter Fbancisco de Medicis. 
 
 IIow now ? thou art sad. 
 
 Fran. I met even now with the most piteous sight. 
 
 Flam. Thou mcct'st another here, a pitiful 
 DcCTaded courtier. 
 
 Fran. Your reverend mother 
 Is giown a very old woman in two hours. 
 I found them winding of Marccllo'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'outwcur thr nights with, tliat, Itclicvc mc, 
 I had no eyes to guide me forth tlie room, 
 Tlicy were so oV-rcharg'd with water. 
 
 Flam. I will sec them. 
 
 Fran. 'Twcre much uncharity in you ; fui' yom- sight 
 "Will add unto their tears. 
 
 Flam. I will see them : 
 
 ' Smoor— the Anglo-Saxon »moran, t<j smotbcr.
 
 126 • THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act v. 
 
 They are behiml tlie traverse ;^ I'll discover 
 Their superstitious howling. 
 
 Cornelia, the Mooii, and three other ladies discovered 
 winding Marcello's corse. A Song. 
 
 Cor. This rosemary is wither'd ; i>ray, get fi-esh. 
 I would have these herbs grow up in his grave, 
 When I am dead and rotten. Eeach 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, 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 
 Ilath turn'd her child again ! 
 
 Cor. You're very Avelcomc : 
 There's rosemary for you, and rue for you, [To Flamineo. 
 Hcart's-ease for you ; I pray make much of it, 
 I have left more for myself. 
 
 Fran. Lady, who's this ? 
 
 Cor. You are, I take it, the grave-maker. 
 
 Flam. So. 
 
 Zanche. 'Tis Flamineo. 
 
 Cor. Will you make me such a fool? here's a white 
 hand : 
 
 ' The traverse. " Beside the principal curtains that hung; in 
 the front of the stage, tiiey used others as substitutes for scenes, 
 which were denominated traverses." — Malonk's Hist. Ace. of the 
 Enfjlish Stage, p. 88, ed. Boswell : quoted by Dyce.
 
 SCI.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 127 
 
 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 ceilain 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 grandmotlier 
 
 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 toren, 
 
 [^Cornelia doth this in several forms of distraction. 
 
 Since o'er shady fjroves they hover, 
 
 And viith leaves and flowers do cover 
 
 The friendless bodies of nnburied men. 
 
 Call unto his funeral dole 
 
 Tlie ant, the field-moxise, and the mole, 
 
 To rear him hillocks that shall heep him warm, 
 
 And {when (jaij tombs are robb\l) sustain no harm ; 
 
 But keep the wolf far thence, that's foe to men, 
 
 For vnth his nails he'll diij them up acjain. 
 
 They would not bury him 'cause he died in a f|uarn'I ; 
 
 JJut I have an answer for thcin : 
 
 Let holy church receive him drdy, 
 
 Since he pavl the church-tithes truly. 
 
 His wenlth is aumni'd, and this is all his store, 
 
 Tills poor mcu get, and great men get uo more.
 
 128 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act v. 
 
 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' wliich 
 I cannot give a name, without it be 
 Compassion. I pray leave me. \^Exit Francisco. 
 
 This night I'U 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 
 Kiotously ill, like some that live in court, 
 And sometimes when my face Avas full of smiles, 
 Have felt the maze of conscience in my breast. 
 Oft gay and honom-'d robes those tortures try : 
 " We think cag'd birds sing, when indeed they cry."* 
 Ha ! I can stand thee : nearer, nearer yet. 
 
 Enter BRACinANo's Gliost, in his leather cassoclc and breeches, 
 hoots; a coivl; a pot of lily-Jloivers, xvitli a slcidl in^t. 
 
 A\niat 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 pui-pose ; say — 
 
 [TIlc Ghost throws earth upon him, and shews him 
 the skull. 
 
 ' This line is probably a quotation, and is so marked in the 
 original copy. — Colliee.
 
 SCI.] VITTOEIA COROMBONA. 129 
 
 "VMiat's that ? O fatal ! he throws earth upon me. 
 A dead man's skull heneath the roots of flowers ! 
 I pray speak, sir : our Italian chuvoh-men 
 Make us helieve dead men hold conference 
 With their familiars, and many times 
 Will come to hed to them, and eat with them. 
 
 \^Exit Ghost. 
 He's gone ; and see, the skull and earth are vauish'd. 
 This is hojond melancholy. I do dare my fate 
 To do its worst. Now to my sister's lodging, 
 And sum up all these horrors : the disgrace 
 The prince threw on me ; next the piteous sight 
 Of my dead brother ; and my mother's dotage ; 
 And last this terrible vision : all these 
 Shall with Vittoria's bounty turn to good, 
 Or I will drown tliis weapon in her blood. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Francisco, Lodovico, and Hortensio. 
 
 Lod. My lord, upon my soul you shall no fuithcr; 
 You have most ridiculously engag'd yourself 
 Too far already. For ray part, I have paid 
 All my debts : so, if I should chance to fall, 
 My creditors fall not with me ; and T vow. 
 To quit all in this bold assembly, 
 To tbr' nicnncst folbjwor. My lord, leave the city, 
 Or I'll foi-swcar the murder. [Exit. 
 
 Fran. 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. 
 
 Uor. There's some black deed on foot. I'll presently 
 
 VOL, II. K
 
 130 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act v. 
 
 Do^^^l to the citadel, and raise some force. 
 
 These strong court-factions, that do brook no checks. 
 
 In the career oft break the riders' necks. [^Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Enter Yittoeia %vith a hook in her Jiand, Zanche ; Fla- 
 MiKEO following them. 
 
 Flam. Wliat ? are you at jour prayers ? give o'er. 
 
 Vit. 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. Ha ! are you drunk ? 
 
 Flam. Yes, yes, with wormwood water ; you shall taste 
 Some of it presently. 
 
 Vit. ^Miat intends the fury? 
 
 Flam. You are my lord's executrix ; and I claim 
 Reward for my long service. 
 
 Vit. For your service ! 
 
 Flam. Come, therefore, here is pen and ink, set down 
 ^\'Tiat you will give me. 
 
 Vit. There. \_She writes. 
 
 Flam. Ha ! have you done already ? 
 'Tis a most short conveyance. 
 
 Vit. I will read it : 
 I give that portion to thee, and no other, 
 Which Cain groaned under, having slain his brother. 
 
 Flam. A most courtly patent to beg by. 
 
 Vit. You are a villain ! 
 
 Flam. Is't come to this ? they say affrights cure agues :
 
 sc. n.] riTTORTA COROMBOXA. 131 
 
 Thou hast a devil in thee ; I will try 
 
 If I can scare him from thee. Nay, sit still : 
 
 My lord hath left me yet two case of jewels, 
 
 Shall make me scorn your bounty ; you shall see them. 
 
 Yit. Sure lie's distracted. 
 • Zanche. O, he's desperate ! 
 For your own safety give him gentle language. 
 
 \_He re-enters with two case of pistols. 
 Flam. Look, these are better far at a dead lift, 
 Than all your jewel-house. 
 Vit. And yet, methiiiks, 
 These stones have no fair lustre, thoy are ill set. 
 
 Flam. I'll turn tlie right side towards you : you shall see 
 IIow they will sparkle. 
 
 Vit. Turn this horror from me ! 
 ^V^lat do you want? what would you have mc do? 
 Is not all mine yours ? have I any children ? 
 
 Flam. Pray thee, good woman, do not trouble mc 
 With this vain worldly l)usincss ; say your prayers: 
 I made a vow to my deceased lord, 
 Neither yourself nor I should outlive him 
 'i'lu! numbering of four hours. 
 Vil. J)id he eiijoiii it ? 
 
 Fltiiii. 1 1(! (lid. and 'twas a deadly jealousy, 
 Ja'M any .should enjoy thee after him. 
 That urg<-d him vow uw to it. For my death, 
 I did propound it voluntarily, knowing, 
 If he could not be safe in his own court, 
 Being a great duke, what bopr- iIhii for us? 
 I'it. This is your melanclioly, and despair.
 
 132 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OB, [act v. 
 
 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 woidd not live at any man's entreaty, 
 Xor die at any's bidding. 
 
 Vit. Will you hear me ? 
 
 Flam. My life hath done service to other men. 
 My death shall serve mine own turn : make you ready. 
 
 Vit. Do you mean to die indeed ? 
 
 Flam. With as much pleasure. 
 As e'er my father gat me. 
 
 Vit. Are the doors lock'd ? 
 
 Zanche. Yes, madam. 
 
 Vit. Are you grown an atheist? will you turn yoiu' body 
 Wliich is the goodl}^ palace of the soul, 
 To the soul's slaughter-house ? O, the cursed devil, 
 ^Miich doth present us with all other sins 
 Thrice candied o'er, despair witli gall and stibium ; 
 Yet we carouse it off ; — cry out for help ! — 
 
 [Aside to Zanche. 
 IMakes us forsake that which was made for man, 
 The world, to sink to that was made for devils, 
 Eternal darkness ! 
 
 Zanche. IIolp, help ! 
 
 Flam. I'U stop your throat 
 With winter plums. 
 
 Vit. I prithee yet remember, 
 Millions are now in graves, which at last day
 
 sc. II.] VITTORJA COROMBONA. 133 
 
 Like mandrakes shall rise sluiekinof. 
 
 Flam. Leave your prating, 
 For these are but grammatical laments, 
 Feminine arguments : and tliey move me, 
 As some in pulj)its 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 deatli ; lot him die first. 
 
 Vit. 'Tis good, I apprehend it. — 
 To kill one's self is meat that we must take 
 Ijike pills, not chew'd, but quickly swallow 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. O, but frail tv ! 
 Yet I am now resolv'd ; farewell, affliction ! 
 IJchold, 13racliiano, I that while you livM 
 JJid make a flaming altar of my heart 
 To sacrifice unto you, now am ri'ady 
 To sacrifice heart and all. l''aie\vi'll, Zanche ! 
 
 Zanche. Jlow, madam I do yon think that I'll outlive 
 you; 
 Kspecially when my best self, Flaminco, 
 Goes the .same voyage;? 
 
 Fhnn. (). most lovfd .M<KirI 
 
 Znndic. Only, by all my love, let me entreat you, 
 Since it ia most necessary one of us
 
 134 THE WHITE DEVIL; OR, [act v. 
 
 Do violence on ourselves, let you or I 
 Be her sad taster, teach her how to die. 
 
 Flam. Thou dost instruct me nohly ; 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. and Zanche. Most religiously. 
 
 Flam. Then here's an end of me ; farewell, daylight. 
 And, O contemptible physic ! that dost take 
 So long a study, only to preserve 
 So short a life, I take my leave of thee. 
 
 {^Shelving the pistols. 
 These are two cupping-glasses, that shall draw 
 All my infected blood out. Are you ready? 
 
 BotJi. Ready. 
 
 Ham. A\liither shall I go now ? O Lucian, thy ridicu- 
 lous purgatory ! to find Alexander the Great cobbling shoes, 
 Pompey tagging- points, and Julius Ca;sar making hair- 
 buttons ! Hannibal selling blacking, and Augustus crying 
 garlic ! Charlemagne soiling lists by the dozen, and king 
 Pepin crying a])ples in a cart diawn with one horse ! 
 "\Miether 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 ai)prc'licnded, is quite past. 
 
 \_They shoot, and run to him, and tread tipon him. 
 
 Vit. \Miat, are you dropt ?
 
 sc. n.] VITTORIA COROMBONA. 135 
 
 Flam. I am mix'd ^vith earth already : as you are noble, 
 Perforin your vows, and bravely follow me. 
 Vit. Whither? to heU ? 
 Zanche. To most assur'd damnation ? 
 Vit. O, thou most cursed devil ! 
 Zanche. Thou art caught — 
 Vit. In thine own engine. I tread the fire out 
 That would have been my ruin. 
 
 Flam. Will you be perjured ? what a religious oath was 
 Styx, that the gods never durst swear by. and violate ! O 
 that we had such an oath to minister, and to be so well kept 
 in our courts of justice ! 
 
 Vit. Think whither thou art going. 
 Zanche. And remember 
 \Miat villanies thou hast acted. 
 
 Vit. Tliis thy death 
 Shall make me, like a blazing ominous star: 
 Look up and tremble. 
 
 Flam. O, 1 am caught with a springe ! 
 Vit. You see the fox comes many times short home ; 
 'Tis here prov'd true. 
 
 Flam. Kill'd with a couple of braches!* 
 Vit. No titter offering for the infernal furies. 
 Than one in whom they icignM wbilc be was living. 
 
 Flam. (), the way's dark and horrid I 1 cannot see : 
 Shall I have no company ? 
 
 Vit. O yes, thy sins 
 Do nm before thee to fetch fire from hell, 
 To light thee thither. 
 
 Fhtm. O, I smell soot, most stinking soot I the chim- 
 ney's n fire : 
 
 ' Bitch'houndH.
 
 136 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act v. 
 
 My liver's parboilVl, like Scotch holly-bread ; 
 There's a plumber laying pipes in my guts, it scalds. 
 ^^'ilt thou outlive me ! 
 
 Zanche. Yes, and drive a stake 
 Thi'ough 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 yoiu* reaches : I am not wounded. 
 
 \_Flamineo riseth. 
 The pistols held no bidlets ; 'twas a plot 
 To prove your kindness to me ; and I live 
 To punish your ingratitude. I knew, 
 One time or other, you Avould 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 pa^vn to the devil 
 for a little pleasure, and a woman makes the bill of sale. 
 That ever man should marry ! For one ITypci'mnestra that 
 saved her lord and husband, forty-nine of her sisters cut 
 their husbands' throats all in one night. There was a shoal 
 of virtuous horse-leeches ! Here are two other instruments. 
 
 Enter Lodovico, Gaspauo.^ 
 Vit. Help! help! 
 
 ' The original entrance marked is, " Enter Lodovico, Gasparo, 
 Pedro, and Carlo." There are no such personages as Pedro and
 
 sc. ir.] riTTORIA COEOMBOXA. 137 
 
 Flam. TMiat noise is that? ha ! false keys i'th'court ! 
 
 Lod. We have brought you a mask. 
 
 Flam. A matachiii^ it seems by your di'awn swords. 
 Church-men- turned revellers ! 
 
 Gas. Isabella I Isabella ! 
 
 Lod. Do you know us now ?^ 
 
 Flam, Lodovico ! and Gasparo ! 
 
 Lod. Yes ; and that Moor the duke gave pension to 
 Was the great duke of Florence. 
 
 Vit. O, we are lost ! 
 
 Flam. You shall not take justice forth from my hands, 
 O, let me kill her ! — I'll cut ray safety 
 Tlirough your coats of steel. Fate's a spaniel, 
 We cannot beat it from as. AVTiat remains now ? 
 Let all that do ill, take this precedent : 
 Man may his fate foresee, hut not prevent : 
 And of all axioms this shall win the prize, 
 ^Tis better to he fortunate than wise. 
 
 Gas. Bind liim to the pillar. 
 
 Carlo in the play ; and we may assume the latter names to have 
 boon meroly thosi; asstnnod \>yljiti\i)\\c<> and (Jaspnro in their dis- 
 guist' ; and to b(! set fortii here to indicate tliat thi^y still retain 
 that flisf^uise. 
 
 ' Then; was a dance called Matacliin, thus described by Mr. 
 Douce : " Such a dance wius that well known in Franco and Italy 
 by the name of the dancf- of fools or Matarldnx, who were habited 
 in short jackets, with j^ilt paper helmets, lonj^ streamers tied to 
 their shoulders, and bells to their lej^s. 'riny c<irrir<l in t/uir Imiiih 
 a twiiril liwl buckler, with which they made a clashinf; noise, and 
 P'rformed various cpiiek and spri;^litly evolutions."' — IIIuhI. of 
 Sluikmpciirf. Flamineo, J>layinf^ upon wor<ls, says : " It is not u 
 mas<pie (entertainment) you have brought us, but, as is clear by 
 your drawn swords, a Mulurliln." 
 
 ' I/Kloviro and Cjnsparr) arc; still in tlit'ir Capuchin attire. 
 
 ' I/idovico and Gasparo here throw back their cowls and robes, 
 showing themselves in armour.
 
 138 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OR, [act v. 
 
 Vit. 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. 
 
 G(is. Yoiu- hope deceives you. 
 
 Vit. If Florence be i'th'court, would he would kill mc ! 
 
 Gas. Fool ! princes give rewards with thcu* own hands, 
 But death or punishment by the hands of others. 
 
 Lod. Sirrah, you once did strike me ; I'll strike you 
 Unto the centre. 
 
 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, ^^^ould'st have me die, as I was born, in wliining ? 
 
 Gas. Kecommend yourself to heaven. 
 
 Flam. No, I will carry mine own commendations thither. 
 
 Lod. O, could I kill you forty times a day. 
 And usc't four year together, 'twere too little ! 
 Nought giieves 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. I remember nothing. 
 There's nothing of so infinite vexation 
 As man's own thoughts. 
 
 Lod. O, thou glorious strumpet ! 
 Could I divide thy breath from this pure air 
 "VMien't leaves thy body, I would suck it up. 
 And brcathe't upon some dunghill. 
 
 ' Stay, — await.
 
 sc. n.] VITTORIA COROMBOXA. 139 
 
 V'd. 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 ! 
 But I'll cut off your train. Kill the Moor first. 
 
 Vit. 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. Yes, I shall welcome death, 
 As princes do some groat ambassadors ; 
 I'll meet thy weapon half way. 
 
 Lod. Thou dost tremble : 
 Methinks, fear should dissolve thee into air. 
 
 Vit. 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. 
 
 Gns. Tliou art my task, black fury. 
 
 Zanche. I have blood 
 As red as either of theirs : wilt drink some? 
 'Ti» good for the falling-sickness. 1 am [irmid ; 
 Death cannot alter my complexion, 
 For I shall ne'er look pale. 
 
 Lod. Strike, strike, 
 With a joint motion. 
 
 Vit. 'TwuM ii manly blow : 
 The next thou giv'st, murder some sucking infant ; 
 
 ' Fancy, imaginaliun.
 
 140 THE WHITE DEVIL ; OB, [act v. 
 
 And then thou wit be fomous. 
 
 Flam. O, what blade is't ? 
 A Toledo, or an Eng-Hsh fox?^ 
 I ever thought a cutler should distinguish 
 The cause of my death, rather than a doctor. 
 Search my wound deeper ; tent^ it with the steel 
 That made it. 
 
 Vit. O, my greatest sin lay in my blood ! 
 Now my blood pays for't. 
 
 Flam. Th'art a noble sister ! 
 I love thee now : if woman do breed man, 
 She ought to teach him manhood : fare thee well. 
 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 ai-t to hide them. 
 
 Vit. 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, 
 
 ' A Toledo, or an English Fox? Toledo, tlie capital city of New 
 Castile, was f(jrmerly much famed for making of sword-blades. 
 Fox; a cant term fur a sword. — Kked. I am informed by Mr. 
 C. Jourdain de Gatwick that the term Fox indicates an old 
 broadsword, so called from Andrea Ferrara having stamped sonne 
 of his blades with a mark which he intended to represent that 
 animal. There is one in the United Service Museum, and one 
 I myself have (adds Mr. Gatwick). 
 
 * To tent — to search, as a wound ; from tent, a roll of lint em- 
 ployed in examining or purifying a deep wound. — Nakes.
 
 sen.] VITTOEIA COEOMBONA. 141 
 
 Which says that women vie with the nine Muses, 
 For nine tough durable lives ! I do not look 
 AMio went before, nor who shall follow me ; 
 No, at myself I will begin and end. 
 "VMiile we look up to heaven, we confound 
 Knowledge with knowlcdoo. O, I am in a mist ! 
 
 Vit. O, happy they that never saw the court, 
 Nor ever knew great men but by report ! \^Dies. 
 
 Flam. I recover like a spent taper, for a flash, 
 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 pitifiJ remainder 
 of winter to come. 
 
 'Tis well yet there's some goodness in my death ; 
 My life was a black charnol. 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. 
 Ix't no harsh flattering bells resound my knell ; 
 Strike, thunder, and strike loud, to my farewell ! \_Dics. 
 
 Enter Ambassadous ami Giovanni. 
 
 ///('/. Anil). Tbis way, this way! break ope the doors! 
 this way ! 
 
 TjO'K J fa ! are we betray'd ? 
 Wby then b't's constantly die all together ; 
 And liaving Hnisli'd tliis most noble deed, 
 Defy the worst of fate, not fear to bleed. 
 
 Eiuj. Ami). Keep bock the i)riucc : shoot, shoot.
 
 142 THE WHITE DEVIL; OB, [act v. 
 
 Lod. O, I am wounded ! 
 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 ; I am Count Lodowick ; 
 And thy most noble micle in disguise 
 Was last night in thy court. 
 
 Gio. Ha! 
 
 Lod. 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 glor}' yet. 
 That I can call this act mine own. For my part, 
 The rack, the gallows, and the torturing wheel, 
 Shall be but sound sleeps to me : here's my rest ; 
 I limn'd this night-piece, and it was my best. 
 
 Gio. Remove the bodies. See, my honour'd lord, 
 "VMiat use you ought make of their punishment. 
 Let guilty men remember, their black deeds 
 Do lean on crutches made of slender reeds.
 
 8C. n.] riTTORIA COROMBONA. 143 
 
 Instead of an Epilogue, only this of Martial supplies me : 
 HcEC fuerint nobis prcemia, si placui. 
 
 For the action of the Play, 'twas generally well, and I 
 dare aftii-m, 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 par- 
 ticular I must remember the well-approved industry of my 
 friend Master Perkins,* and confess the worth of liis action 
 did crown both the beginning and end. 
 
 ' Matter Perkins — Richard Perkins, an actor of considerable 
 eminence.
 
 THE 
 
 TRAGEDY 
 
 OF THE D FTC HESSE 
 Of Malfy. 
 
 As it was Prefented priuatlyy at the Black 
 
 Friers ; and fubliquely at the Globe ^ By the 
 
 Kings Maiefties Seruants 
 
 The perfedl and exa6t Coppy, with diuerfe 
 
 things Printed, that the length of the Play would 
 not beare in the Prefcntmcnt 
 
 Written by John Webfier, 
 
 Hora. .?/■ quiJ- 
 
 -CanJiJus Imperii ; fi tioti, his iitcre mccum. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed by Nicholas Okes, for John 
 
 Waterson, and arc to be fold at the 
 
 fignc of the Crowne, in Panics 
 
 Church-yard 1623. 
 
 VOL^ u. L
 
 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 "HE storj of the Duchess of Malfi was first 
 told, so far as I know, by Matteo Bandello, 
 ill his Novelle, Part I. Nov. 26. From liim 
 it was adopted by Belleforest, Nov. 19 ; and 
 either from the original or fi'om the French version it was 
 translated into English, as a portion of that capital collec- 
 tion of " pleasant histories and excellent novels" entitled 
 The Palace of Pleasure, which AN'illiam Painter, then or 
 lately Master of Seven Oaks School, in Kent, occupied se- 
 veral years subsequent to 1502 in translating " out of divers 
 good and commendable authors," and the first tome of which 
 was published by Richard Tottell and William Jones, anno 
 loOO. The second volume of the Collection was " ini- 
 printed at T^ondon, in Paternoster Howe, by Jicnrie Jjynne- 
 nian for Nicholas England, Anno 1507;" and the learned 
 aupon'isor of the edition of IHIIJ, Mr. Ilaslewood, has 
 pointed out to how largo an extent the various stories con- 
 tained in these interesting tomes were appiopriated, as soon 
 as published, by the dramatic writei-s to the purposes of the 
 Knglish stage. 'J'he Palace of Pleasure, indeed, is pronii- 
 nenfly denounced by Stephen Ciosson, in his I'laijes Con- 
 fiitfil in fire Arlions (1.5H1 or 15M2), among the works 
 which " have bcenc thoroughly ransackt to fuiuish the
 
 148 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 playc-housos in London." The story of the Duchess of 
 Maljt is also told by Goiilart, in his Thresor iVUistoires Ad- 
 mirables et Memorahles de Nostre Temps, pp. 317-322, of 
 the edition of Geneva, 1 620 ; and in Beard's Theatre of 
 God's Judgments, B. ii. Lope de Vega wrote El May or - 
 domo de la Duquesa de Amalfi, 1618. 
 
 The plot is shortly this : — The Duchess, who is a widow, 
 marries ^«^o»/o, the steward of her household ; her brothers 
 are so enraged at this, that they employ Bosola to murder 
 her and her children, and the brothers themselves come to 
 the same violent end. The scene lies atMalfi, Rome, and 
 other places in Italy. 
 
 The second edition of the Duchess of Malfi was " printed 
 by J. Eaworth, for J. Benson, and are to be sold at his shop 
 in St. Dunstan's Churchyard, in Fleet Street, 1640." It 
 was revived, as an acting-play, at the Lincoln's Inn Fields 
 Theatre in 1664, when Betterton performed Bosola, Harris 
 DuTce Ferdinand, Smith Antonio, Young the Cardinal, 
 Mrs. Betterton the Duchess, and Mrs. Gibbs Julia. The 
 play, reports Downes, was excellently acted in all its parts, 
 particularly Bosola and Ferdinand ; it filled the house eight 
 days successively, and proved one of the best stock trage- 
 dies. The tragedy was again printed in 1678 (when Mrs. 
 Shadwcll's name stands to the part o{ Jidici) ; and in 1708 
 appeared, under the editoi'ial care of Hugh Newman, " The 
 Unfortunate Dutchess of Malfi, or the Unnatural Brothers ; 
 a Tragedy, now acted at the Queen's Theatre in the Hay- 
 market, By her Majesties Company of Comedians. Writ- 
 ten by Mr. Webster. London, printed for H. N. and ai-e 
 to be sold by John Morphew near Stationers Hall. 1708.'' 
 This copy was that in use for diamatic representation at
 
 THE DUCEESS OF MALFI. 
 
 149 
 
 the time, and it exhibits, within inverted commas, " those 
 lines which were omitted in the acting, by reason of the 
 length of the play." As a dramatic curiosity, I transcribe 
 from this copy the Bill of the Play in 1 708. It will be seen 
 that, since 1623, the female Dramatis Personce had come 
 to be represented by females, instead of, as then and there- 
 tofore, by young men and boys. The innovation, in fact, 
 was fii-st essayed on the 7th of November, 1(529, by " some 
 Frenchwomen, or monsters rather (as horrified Prynne de- 
 nounces them, in his HistriomasttA'), who attempted to 
 act a French play at the playhouse in Blaekfriai-s, an im- 
 pudent, shameful, unwomanish, graceless, &c. <fec. attempt." 
 The attempt, however, did not succeed until some time after- 
 wards. But to the Company at the Ilaymarket in 1708. 
 
 Men. 
 
 FERPrNAM), Count of Calabria 
 Cardinal, his Brother . . 
 Antonio, St<:'ward of tlic Household to 
 
 the Dutchess .... 
 Dklio, his Friend 
 BosoLA, Gentleman of the Horse to the 
 
 DntcJH'ss 
 
 CAHTUUfiiio, an old Lord . 
 Marqukhs of Pkscara 
 Count Mai-atehtk . 
 
 Tif)HI) RoHKUIOO .... 
 JjOUD (illlHOKAN .... 
 
 Doctor to the Duke in his MudnesH 
 
 Ahtrolooer 
 
 Taylor .... 
 
 I'auhon .... 
 
 Doctor .... 
 
 Mai>. 
 
 Mr. Verhruggen. 
 Mr. Keen. 
 
 Mr. Booth. 
 Mr. Corey. 
 
 Mr. Mills. 
 
 Mr. 
 
 Fairhank 
 
 Mr. 
 
 Freeman. 
 
 Mr. 
 
 Kent. 
 
 Mr. 
 
 Bowen. 
 
 Mr. 
 
 Trout. 
 
 Mr. 
 
 I 'nek. 
 
 Mr. 
 
 ./(iliu.wn. 
 
 Mr. 
 
 Bullock.
 
 150 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 Women. 
 
 Dutchess of Malfy Mrs. Porter. 
 
 Cahiola, her Woman Mrs. Poivell. 
 
 Julia, Castruchio's Wife and the Car- 
 dinal's Mistress Mrs. Bradshaw. 
 
 Scene, ItuJi/. 
 
 This edition is of great use, from the circumstance that 
 it gives the various exits and entrances of the characters in 
 a much more complete and accurate form than that of the 
 previous quartos, where, at the opening of a scene, all the 
 names are set forth of all the personages who make their 
 appearance in its com-se, although but one or two of them 
 may be present at the commencement, and even, in some 
 cases, personages are named who do not make their appear- 
 ance at all. It may be as well to obsei-ve here that, although 
 in various instances I have marked the assumed locality of 
 a scene or subdivision of an act, it is not to be supposed that 
 in our author's time the attention of theatrical audiences was 
 at all distracted from the events and language of the play 
 by those scenic effects which are so leading a feature in the 
 dramatic productions of the present age. " I decidedly con- 
 cur with Malone," wTites Mr. Collier (Annals of the Stage, 
 iii. 360), *' in the general conclusion that painted moveable 
 scenery was unknown on our early stage; and it is a for- 
 tunate circumstance (adds Mr. Collier) for the poetry of our 
 old plays that it was so ; the imagination of the auditor only 
 was appealed to ; and we owe to the absence of painted can- 
 vas many of the finer descriptive passages in Shakespeare, 
 his contemporaries and immediate followers." Scenery we
 
 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 151 
 
 learn, on the same excellent authority, was not introduced 
 upon the stage until towards 1G60. 
 
 The DucJiess of Malfi was worked up hy Theobald into 
 a Tragedy called Tlie Fatal Secret, which was acted at Co- 
 vent Garden on the 3rd of April, 1733, with Quin as Bosola, 
 and was acted four- times. " Theobald's first tlu-ee acts," 
 writes Mi*. Genest, "do not diflfer very materially from Web- 
 ster's. In the fourth act he gives the plot a difibrent turn : 
 in Webster's play the Duchess is strangled on the stage; in 
 Theobald's she is carried off the stage for that purpose. In 
 Theobald's last scene the Dide and Cardinal kill one an- 
 other by mistake ; the yoimg Duke cntei-s ; Bosola promises 
 to produce the body of the Duchess ; he brings her in alive ; 
 Antonio, who is disguised as a pilgrim, discovers himself, 
 and the play ends happily. Tliis is effected by making Bo- 
 sola turn out an honest man instead of a villain. The young 
 Duke, who is supposed to be about twelve years old, is a new 
 character. Theobald's alteration," adds Mr. Genest, " on 
 the whole is not a bad one, but it is too violent ; he should 
 have retained more of the original play. He tells us, in his 
 preface : * I have retained the names of the characters ; I 
 have adopted as much of Webster's tale as I conceived for my 
 purpose, and as much of his writing aa I could (ui n to ac- 
 count. I have nowhere spared myself out of indolence, but 
 have often engiaftcd his thoughts and language, because I 
 was conscious I could not so well supply them from my own 
 fund.'" 
 
 W. Il,\/.i-nT.
 
 TO THE 
 
 RIGHT HONOURABLE GEORGE HARDING, 
 
 BAEON BERKELEY, OF BERKELEY CASTLE, 
 
 ANT* KNIGHT OF THE ORDER OF THE BATH TO THE ILLUSTRIOUS 
 PRINCE CHARLES. 
 
 My NOBLE Lord, 
 
 ill AT 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 con- 
 duct or postilion: by the like ingenious means has your 
 fame aiTived at my knowledge, receiving it from some of 
 worth, who both in contemplation and practice owe to your 
 honour their clearest service. I do not altogether look up 
 at your title ; the ancien'st nobility being but a relic of 
 time past, and the truest honour indeed being for a man 
 to confer honour on himself, which your learning strives to 
 propagate, and shall make you arrive at the dignity of a 
 great example. I am confident this work is not unworthy 
 your honour's perusal, for by such poems as this poets have 
 kissed the hands of great princes, and drawn their gentle 
 eyes to look down upon their sheets of paper, when the 
 poets themselves were bound up hi their winding-sheets.
 
 153 
 
 The like courtesy from your lordsliip shall make you hve 
 in your grave, and laurel spring out of it, when the igno- 
 rant scomers 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 gi'ace so done me shall ever be acknow- 
 ledged 
 
 By your lordship's 
 
 in all duty and 
 
 observance, 
 
 JouN Webster. 
 
 ' Judgment, from the Latin censeo.
 
 IN TIIE JUST WORTH OF THAT WELL DESERVEU, 
 
 MR. JOHN WEBSTER, AND UPON THIS 
 
 MASTER-PIECE OF TRAGEDY. 
 
 ?N this thou imltat'st one rich and wise, 
 That sees his good deeds done heforc he dies : 
 As he by works, thou by this work of fame 
 Hast well provided for thy Hving 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 cathedi-al palaces, 
 Wliere royal ashes keep their court. Thy note 
 Be ever plainness, 'tis the richest coat : 
 Thy epitaph only the title be. 
 Write DucJiess, that will fetch a tear for thee ; 
 For who e'er saw this Duchess live and die, 
 That could get off under a bleeding eye. 
 
 In Tragffidiam. 
 Ut lux ex tenebris ictu pcrcussa tonantis. 
 Ilia, ruina malis, claris fit vita poetis. 
 Thomas Middletonus, 
 Poeta et Chron.* 
 Londinensis. 
 
 ' Middleton was City Chronologer.
 
 155 
 
 TO HIS FRIEND MR. JOHN WEBSTER, 
 UPON HIS DUCHESS OF ATALFI. 
 
 I never saw tliy Duchess till the day 
 That she was lively bodied in tliy 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. Eowley. 
 
 TO THE READER OF THE AUTHOR, 
 AND HIS DUCHESS OP MALFI. 
 
 Crown him a poet, whom nor Rome nor Greece 
 
 Transcend in all tlicir's for a masterjiiecc ; 
 
 In which, whiles words and matter cliange, 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.
 
 THE ACTOES' NAMES. 
 
 ■} 
 
 BOSOLA. 
 
 Ferdinand . 
 
 Cardinal. 
 
 Antonio. 
 
 Delio. 
 
 forobosco. 
 
 IMalateste. 
 
 The Marquis of i 
 
 Pescara. 
 koderigo. 
 Silvio. 
 Grisolan. 
 The Several Madmen. 
 The Duchess. 
 The Cardinal's Mistress. 
 Doctor. 
 Cahiola. 
 Court Officers. 
 Three Young Children. 
 Two Pilgrims. 
 
 ! 
 
 J. Lowin. 
 
 1. R. Burhidge, 2. ,/. Taylor. 
 
 1. H. Cundaile, 2. It. Itohinson. 
 
 1. W. Ostler, 2. R. Benfeild. 
 
 J. Underwood. 
 
 N. Towley. 
 
 J. Rice. 
 
 T. Pollard. 
 
 N. Towley, J. Underwood, Sfc. 
 R. SJiarpe. 
 J. Thompson. 
 
 R. Pallant.
 
 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 
 
 ACT I.— Scene I. 
 Eater Antonio, and Delio. 
 
 Delio. 
 |0U arc welcome to your country, dear An- 
 tonio ; 
 You have been long in France, and you re- 
 turn 
 
 A very furniul Froii(;liinan in your habit. 
 How do you like the French court? 
 
 Ant. I admire it: 
 In seeking to reduce both state and people 
 To a fixt order, their judicious king 
 Begins at home ; (fuits' first his royal palace 
 ( )f Hattcring sycophants, of dissolute 
 And infamous persons, which he sweetly terms 
 His master's maHter])iece, 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 
 
 ' Clears.
 
 158 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act i. 
 
 Some eui's'd example polson't near the head, 
 
 Deatli and diseases tlirough the whole land spread. 
 
 And what is't makes this hlcssed government, 
 
 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 
 
 "\Miat 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 tilings which he wants ; . 
 
 Would be as lecherous, covetous, or proud. 
 
 Bloody, or envious, as any man, 
 
 If he had means to be so. Here's the Cardinal. 
 
 Enter Bosola and C/VKDinal. 
 
 Bos. I do haunt you still. 
 
 Card. So. 
 
 Bos. I have done you better sen^ice^ 
 Than to be slighted thus. 
 Miserable age, where ojily 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 shii-t, with a knot on the shoulder, 
 
 ' I print the following speeches of Bosola, as well as other 
 portions of the Tragedy, in the blank verse marked by the quartos, 
 and which, however and by whomsoever compiled, exhibit, as 
 Mr. Dyce remarks, manifest traces of the metre in which it is 
 most probable the whole was at first composed.
 
 sc. I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 159 
 
 After the fashion of a Eoraan mantle. 
 Shghted thus ! I mil thrive some way : 
 Black-buds fatten best in hard weather ; 
 "VVhy 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 rctuni as arrant knaves as they went forth, 
 Because they caiiied themselves always along with them. 
 
 [^Exit Cardinal. 
 
 Are you gone ? 
 
 Some fellows, they say, arc possessed with the devil, 
 But this great fellow were able to possess the gi'catest 
 Devil, and make him worse. 
 
 Ant. lie hath denied thee some suit? 
 
 Bos. lie and his brother are like plum-trees that grow 
 crooked 
 Over standing-pools ; they arc rich, and o'crladcn with 
 Fruit, but none but crows, pies, and catei-pillars feed 
 On them. Could T bo one of their flattoiiiig panders, I 
 Would hang on their cars like a horseleech, till I were full , and 
 
 TIh'u drop oft'. I pray leave mo. 
 
 Who would rely upon these mi-scriiblf diiicndriirics, in ex- 
 pectation to 
 
 Be advanced to-mo)Tow ? What creature ever fed worse, 
 tban hoping 
 
 Tantalus? nor ever died any man more feaifully, than he 
 that liopcd 
 
 For a pardon. There are rewards f(»r liawks .'iikI dogs. 
 
 Wlicn tJH-ybave done us service: but fur a soldier tliat li- 
 zards his
 
 160 THE BUG HESS OF MALFI. [act i. 
 
 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 
 Man's head lies at that man's foot, and so lower and lower. 
 
 \^Exit. 
 
 Delio. I knew this fellow seven years in the gallies 
 For a notorious murder ; and 'twas thought 
 The Cardinal suborn'd it : he was releas'd 
 By the French general, Gaston de Foix, 
 ^lien he recover'd Naples. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis great pity, 
 He should be thus neglected : I have heard 
 He's very valiant. This foul melancholy 
 AVill 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 
 Ereeds all black malecontents, and their close rearing, 
 Like moths in cloth, do hurt for want of wearing. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 Enter Antonio, Delio, Ferdinand, Castbitccio, Silvio. 
 Delio. The presence 'gins to fill ; you promis'd me
 
 sc. n.] TUE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 161 
 
 To make me the partaker of the uatm'es 
 Of some of jour great courtiers. 
 
 Ant. The lord cardinars, 
 And other strangers, that are now in comi; ? 
 I shall : here comes the great Calabrian Duke. 
 
 Ferd. "Who took the ring oftcnest ?* 
 
 Silvio. Antonio Bologna, my lord. 
 
 Ferd. Our sister Dueliess' great master of her household : 
 Give him the jewel. ^Maen shall we leave this sportive 
 
 action. 
 And fall to action indeed ? 
 
 Cast. Methinks, my lord, 
 You should not desire to go to war in person. 
 
 Ferd. Now, for some gravity : why, 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 sleep, or cat by a de- 
 puty? 
 This might take idle, offensive, and base office fioni him, 
 Whereas the other de])rive8 him of honour. 
 
 Cast. Believe my experience : that realm is never long 
 in quiet. 
 Where the ndcr is a soldier. 
 
 Ferd. Tlion toldest me 
 Thy wife could not endure fighting. 
 
 Cast. True, my lord. 
 
 ' i. f. in llif- tiltin;^ at tho ring, 
 VOL. II. M
 
 162 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act i. 
 
 Ferd. And of a jest she broke of a captain 
 She met full of wounds : I have forgot it. 
 
 Cast. Slie told hnn, m j lord, he was a pitiful fellow, to he 
 Like the childi'on of Ismael, all in tonts.^ 
 
 Ferd. Why, there's a wit were able to undo 
 All the chirurgoons 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 loins as if he were ballassed with quicksilver. 
 
 Silvio. True, my lord, he reels from the tilt often. 
 
 Rod. Chris. Ha, ha, ha I 
 
 Feixl. Why do you laugh ? methinks you that are cour- 
 tiers 
 Should be my touchwood, take fire when I give fire ; 
 That is, not 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 un- 
 derstand it. 
 
 Ferd. But I can laugh at your fool, my lord. 
 Cast. He cannot spoak, you know, but he makes faces : 
 My lady cannot abide him. 
 
 Ferd. No? 
 
 ' Tent is a roll of lint used in searching a wound.
 
 sc. n.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFL 163 
 
 CuM. Xor endure to be in merrj company ; for she says 
 Too mucli laughing, and too much company, fills her 
 Too full of the OTuikle. 
 
 Ferd. I would then have a mathematical instrument 
 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 ari-ive most welcome, 
 
 Ferd. You are a good horseman, Antonio : you have 
 excellent 
 Riders in France : what do you think of good horseman- 
 ship ? 
 
 Ant. Nobly, my lord: as out of the Grecian horse 
 issued 
 Many famous princes, so out of brave horsemanship 
 Ai-isc the first sparks of growing resolution, that raise 
 The mind to noble action. 
 
 Ferd. You have bespoke it worthily. 
 
 Silvio. Your brother, the lord Cardinal, and sister 
 Duchess. 
 
 Enter Cardinal, DrcHKSS, Cahiola, and .Tulia. 
 
 Card. Arc the gallics come about? 
 
 Gri.t. They are, my lord. 
 
 Ferd, J lure's the Lord .Silvio is come to take Ills leave. 
 
 Delia. Now, sir, your promise : what's that C'ardinul ? 
 J mean his temper? they say he's a brave; frilow, 
 Will play his five thousand crowns at tennis, dance, 
 Court ladies, atid one th:il li;i(li fungbt single combats. 
 
 Ant. Some such fla.shes sui»erlicially hang «u him. for 
 form ;
 
 164 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act i. 
 
 But observe lii.s inward cliaracter : he is a melancholy 
 Cliiu'chman ; the spring in his face is nothing but the 
 Engendering of toads ; where he is jealous of any man. 
 He lays worse plots for him than ever was imposed on 
 Hercules, for he strews in his way flatterers, panders, 
 Intelligencers, atheists, and a thousand such political 
 Monsters. He should have been Pope, but instead of 
 Comi?ig to it by the primitive decency of the church, 
 He did bestow bribes so largely, and so impudently, as if 
 
 he would 
 Have canied it away without heaven's knowledge. 
 Some good he hath done 
 
 Belio. You have given too much of him : what's his 
 brother ? 
 
 Ant. The duke there? a most perverse and turbulent 
 nature : 
 WTiat appears in him mirth is merely outside ; 
 If he laugh heartily, it is to laugh 
 All honesty out of fasliion. 
 
 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 offenders in their answers ; 
 Dooms men to death by information. 
 Rewards by hearsay. 
 
 Delio. Then the law to him 
 Is like a foid black cobweb to a spider, 
 He makes it his dwelling and a prison 
 To entangle those shall feed him. 
 
 Ant. Most tme :
 
 sc. n.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 165 
 
 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 speaks in them. 
 
 But for their sister, the right noble duchess. 
 
 You never fix'd your eye on three fair medals 
 
 Cast in one figure, of so different temper. 
 
 For her discourse, it is so full of rapture. 
 
 You only will begin then to be sorry 
 
 WTien 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 to 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 arc practis'd in such noble virtue. 
 
 That sure her nights, nay more, her very sleeps, 
 
 Are more in heaven, than other ladies' shrifts. 
 
 TiCt all sweet ladies break their flattering glasses. 
 
 And dress themselves in her. 
 Delio. Fie, Antonio, 
 
 You play the wire-drawer with her commendations. 
 Ant. r\\ case the picture up : only thus much, 
 
 All hcT particular wortli, grows to this sum ; 
 
 She stains the time pant, lights (he time to come. 
 
 ' A (juick and livxly danco.
 
 IGG THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act i. 
 
 Cari. You must attend my lady in the gallery, 
 Some half an hoiu- hence. 
 
 Ant. I shall. \_Exeunt Antonio and Delio. 
 
 Ferd. Sister, I have a suit to you. 
 
 Duch. To me, sir ? 
 
 Ferd. A gentleman here, Daniel de Bosola, 
 One that was in the gallics 
 
 Duch. Yes, I know him. 
 
 Ferd. A worthy fellow h'is : pray let me entreat for 
 The provisorship of your horse. 
 
 Duch. Your knowledge of him 
 Commends him and prefers him. 
 
 Ferd. Call him hither. [Exit Attendant. 
 
 We are now upon parting. — Good Lord Silvio, 
 Do us commend to all om' nohlc friends 
 At the leaguer. 
 
 Silvio. Sir, I shall. 
 
 Ferd. You are for Milan ? 
 
 Silvio. I am. 
 
 Duch. Bring the carrochcs : ^ we'll bring you down to 
 the haven. 
 
 [Exeunt all but the Cardinal and 
 Ferdinand. 
 
 Card. Be sure you entertain that Bosola 
 For your intelligence : I would not be seen in't ; 
 And therefore many times I have slighted him, 
 ^^^lon 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 : 
 
 ' Large coaches.
 
 sc. II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 1G7 
 
 His nature is too honest for sucli 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. Dotli 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 wliore, because she cozens him. 
 He did suspect me wrongfully. 
 
 Ferd. For that 
 You must give great men leave to take their times. 
 Distrust doth cause us seldom be deceiv'd : 
 You sec, the oft shaking of the cedar-tree 
 Fastens it more at root. 
 
 Bos. Yet, take heed ; 
 For to suspect a friend unworthily, 
 Instructs hini tlie next way to suspect you. 
 And prompts liim to deceive you. 
 
 Ferd. There's gold. 
 
 Bos. So, 
 Wliat follows ? never rain'd siicli sliowcrs as thcso 
 Without thunderbolts i'th' tail of them : whoso throat must 
 
 F (lit ■; 
 
 Fi rd. ^ our inclination to shed bbtod ndcs post 
 J3eforc my occoaiou to use you. I give you that
 
 168 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act i. 
 
 To live i'tli' court here, and obseiTe the duchess ; 
 To note all the particidars of her 'haviour, 
 What suitors do solicit her for mamage, 
 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 woidd not. 
 
 Bos. It seems you woidd create mo 
 One of your familiars. 
 
 Ferd. Familiar ! what's that ? 
 
 Bos. Wliy, 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'st arrive 
 At a higher place by't. 
 
 Bos. Take your devils, 
 Which hell calls angels : ^ these curs'd gifts would make 
 You a coiTupter, me an impudent traitor ; 
 And should I take these, they'd take mc to hell. 
 
 Ferd. Sir, I'll take nothing from you, that I have given : 
 Tliere is a place that I procur'd for you 
 This morning, the provisorship o' th' horse ; 
 Have you heard ou't ? 
 
 Bos. No. 
 
 Ferd. 'Tis yours : is't not worth thanks ? 
 
 Bos. I would havcyou curse yourself now,that your bounty 
 (Which makes men truly noble) e'er should make 
 Mc a villain. O, that to avoid ingratitude 
 For the good deed you have done me, I must do 
 
 ' AiKjel was a gold coin, in value about 85.
 
 5C. n.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFL 169 
 
 All the ill man can invent ! Thus the devil 
 Candies all sins o'er ; and what heaven terms vile 
 That names he complemental. 
 
 Ferd. Be yom-self ; 
 Keep your old garb of melancholy ; 'twill express 
 You envy those that stand above your reach, 
 Yet strive not to come near 'era : this will gain 
 Access to private lodgings, where youi'self 
 May, like a politic 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. 
 
 Bos. Let good men, for good deeds, covet good fame, 
 Since place and riches, oft are bribes of shame : 
 Sometimes the devil doth preach. [^ExH. 
 
 Enter DuniKss, Cardinal, and Cariola.* 
 
 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 anything without the addition, honour, 
 Sway 3'our high blood. 
 
 Ferd. Marry ! they are most luxurious,' 
 
 ' Supplied by Mr. Dyco. ' Lascivious.
 
 170 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act i. 
 
 Will wed twice. 
 
 Card. O, fie ! 
 
 Ferd. Their livers arc more spotted 
 Than Laban's sheep. 
 
 Duch. Diamonds are of most value, 
 They say, that have past through most jewellers' hands. 
 
 Ferd. Whores, by that rule, are precious. 
 
 Duch. Will you hear me ? 
 I'll never marry. 
 
 Card. So most widows say ; 
 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 ; look to't : be not cunning ; 
 For they whose faces do belie their hearts, 
 Ai*e witches ere they arrive at twenty years, 
 Ay, and give the devil suck. 
 
 Duch. This is terrible good counsel. 
 
 Ferd. Hypocrisy is woven of a fine small thread. 
 Subtler than Vulcan's engine •} yet, believ't, 
 Yom- darkest actions, nay, your privat'st thoughts. 
 Will come to light. 
 
 Card. You may flatter yoiu-self. 
 And take your own choice ; privately be manied 
 Under the eves of night — 
 
 Ferd. Think't the best voyage 
 That e'er you made ; like the irregular crab, 
 
 ' i, e. the net in which he caught Mars and Venus. — Dyce.
 
 sc. II. J THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 171 
 
 Wliich, tliough't goes backward, tliinks tliat 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 man-iage uif-ht 
 Is the entrance into some prison. 
 
 Ferd. And those joys, 
 Those lustful pleasures, are like heavy sleeps 
 ^Tiich do forerun man's mischief. 
 
 Card. Fare you well. 
 Wisdom begins at the end : remember it. {^Exit. 
 
 Duch. I tliink this speech between you both was studied, 
 It came so roundly oflF. 
 
 Ferd. You aie my sister ; 
 Tliis was my father's poiuard, do you see ? 
 I'd be loath to see't look rusty, 'cause 'twas his. 
 I would have you to give o'er these chargeable revels, 
 A visor and a mask arc whispering rooms 
 That wore never built for goodness ; — fare ye well, 
 And beware that j)art,' which like the lamprey, 
 Ilath never a bone in't. 
 
 Duch. Fie, sir. 
 
 Ferd. Nay, 
 I mean the tongue ; variety of courtship : 
 What cannot a neat knave with a smooth talc 
 Make a woman believe? Farewell, lusty widow. [Kvit. 
 
 Duch. Shall this move me? If all my royal kindred 
 Lay in my way utjto this marriage, 
 I'd make them my low footsteps : and even now, 
 
 ' From the eililiun of 1708. The editions of 1G23 and 1C40 
 read : " and womt-u liiic that pari."
 
 172 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act i. 
 
 Even in tliis hate, as men in some great battles, 
 
 By apprehending clanger, have achiev'd 
 
 Almost impossible actions, — I have heard soldiers say so, — 
 
 So I through frights and threaten! ngs will assay 
 
 This dangerous venture. Let old wives report 
 
 I wink'd, and chose a husband. Cariola, 
 
 To thy known secrecy I have given up 
 
 More than my life — my fame. 
 
 Cari. Both shall be safe : 
 For I'll conceal this secret from the world, 
 As warily as those that trade in poison 
 Keep poison from their children. 
 
 Duch. Thy protestation 
 Is ingenious^ and hearty : I believe it. 
 Is Antonio come ? 
 " Carl. He attends you. 
 
 Duch. Good dear soul, 
 Leave me ; but place thyself behind the arras, 
 "Where thou may'st overhear us. Wish me good speed. 
 For I am ffoino; into a wilderness 
 Where I shall find nor path, nor friendly clew, 
 To be my guide. [_Exit Cariola. 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 
 I sent for you : sit down ; 
 
 Take pen and ink, and write : are you ready ? 
 
 Ant. Yes. 
 
 Duch. WHaat did I say ? 
 
 Ant. That I should write somewhat. 
 
 Duch. O, I remember. 
 
 ' For ingenious. The terms were often transposed by early 
 writers.— Halliwell.
 
 6C. II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 173 
 
 After these triumphs and this large cxpence, 
 It's fit, like thrifty husbands, avc inquire 
 "VNTiat's laid up for to-morrow. 
 
 Ant. So please your beauteous excellence. 
 
 Duch. Beauteous ! Indeed I thank you : 
 I look young for your sake ; 
 You have ta'en my cares upon you. 
 
 Ant. I'U fetch your grace 
 The particulars of youi" revenue and expence. 
 
 Duch. O, you are 
 An upright treasui-er ; but you mistook : 
 For when I said I meant to make inquiry 
 Wliat's laid up for to-morrow, I did mean 
 What's laid up yonder for me. 
 
 Ant. ^^^lcre? 
 
 Duch. In heaven. 
 I am making my will, (as 'tis fit princes shoidd, 
 In perfect memory,) and, I pray, sir, tell mc 
 Were not one better make it smiling, thus. 
 Than in deep groans, and terrible ghastly looks. 
 As if the gifts we parted with procur'd 
 That violent distraction ? 
 
 Ant. O, much better. 
 
 DikJi. If I had a husband now, this care were quit : 
 liut I intend to make you overseer. 
 What good deed shall we first remember? say. 
 
 Ant. Begin with that fii-st good deed begun i'th' world 
 After man's creation, the sacrament of mamagc : 
 I'd have you first provide for a good husband ; 
 Give him all. 
 
 Duch. All?
 
 174 THE DUCHESS OF MALFL [act i. 
 
 Ant. Yos, your excellent self. 
 
 Duch. In a winding sheet? 
 
 Ant. In a couple. 
 
 Duch. St. Winifred, that were a strange will ! 
 
 Ant. 'Twere strange if there were no will in you 
 To marry again. 
 
 Duch. What do you think of marriage ? 
 
 Ant. I take't, as those that deny pm-gatory, 
 It locally contains, or heaven, or hell, 
 There's no third place in't. 
 
 Duch. How do you affect it ? 
 
 Ant. My banishment, feeding my melancholy. 
 Would often reason thus. 
 
 Duch. Pray, let's hear it. 
 
 Ant. Say a man never marry, nor have children, 
 "V^Hiat takes that fi-om him ? only the bare name 
 Of being a father, or the weak delight 
 To see the little wanton ride a cock-horse 
 Upon a painted stick, or hear him chatter 
 Like a taught starling. 
 
 Duch. Fie, fie, what's all this ? 
 One of your eyes is 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. 
 
 Duch. Yes, to help your eye-sight. 
 
 Ant. You have made me stark blind. 
 
 Duch. How? 
 
 Aiit. There is a saucy and ambitious devil, 
 Is dancing in this cucle.
 
 sc. II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 175 
 
 Duch. Eemove him. 
 
 Ant. How? 
 
 Duch. There needs small conjuration, when your finger 
 May do it ; thus ; is it fit ? [He kneels. 
 
 Ant. What said you ? 
 
 Duch. Sir, 
 This goodly roof of yours, is too low huilt ; 
 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, 
 Wliich makes it lunatic beyond all cure. 
 Conceive not I am so stu])id but I aim 
 Wliereto your favours tend : but he's a fool. 
 That being a-cold, would thnist liis hands i"th' fire 
 To warm them. 
 
 Duch. So now the ground's broke. 
 You may discover what a wealthy mine 
 I make you lord of. 
 
 Ant. O, my unworthinoss ! 
 
 Dwh. You were ill to sell yourself: 
 This darkening of your worth is not like that 
 Wliicli tradesmen use i'th' city ; their false lights 
 Are to rid bad wares off: and 1 must tell you, 
 If you will know where breathes a complete man, 
 (I speak it wifbont flattery,) turn your eyes, 
 And progress tbrongb yoTuself. 
 
 Ant. Were tliere nor heaven nnr bell,
 
 176 TUB DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act i. 
 
 I should be honest : I have loug scrv'd vhtue, 
 And ne'er ta'en wages of her. 
 
 Duch. Now slie pays it. 
 The misery of us that are born great ! 
 We are forc'd to woo, because none dare woo xis ; 
 And as a tyrant doubles with his words, 
 And fearfully equivocates, so we 
 Ai'e forc'd to express oiu' violent passions 
 In riddles, and in dreams, and leave the path 
 Of simple virtue, which was never made 
 To seem the tiling it is not. Go, go brag 
 You have left me heartless ; mine is in your bosom : 
 I hope 'twill multiply love there. You do tremble : 
 Make not your heart so dead a piece of flesh. 
 To fear, more than to love me. Sir, be confident : 
 "VMiat 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. 
 
 DucTi. I thank you, gentle love : 
 And 'cause you shall not come to me in debt. 
 Being now my steward, here upon your hps 
 I sign your Quietus est. This you should have begg'd now ; 
 I have seen children oft eat sweetmeats thus. 
 As fearful to dcvom- them too soon.
 
 sc. n.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFL 177 
 
 Ant. But for your brothers ? 
 
 Duch. Do not think of them: 
 All discord without this cii'cumference 
 Is only to be pitied, and not fear'd : 
 Yet, should they know it, time will easily 
 Scatter tlie tempest. 
 
 Ant. These words should be mine. 
 And all the parts you liave spoke, if some part of it 
 "Would not have savour'd flatter3^ 
 
 Ducli. Kjieel, 
 
 Enter Cariola. 
 Ant. Ha! 
 
 Duch. 13e not amaz'd, this woman's of my counsel : 
 I have heard lawyers say, a contract in a chamber 
 Per verba presenti is absolute marriajrc, 
 131ess, heaven, this sacred gordian, which let violence 
 Never untwine ! 
 
 Ant. And may our sweet affections, like the spheres, 
 Be still in motion. 
 
 Duch. Quickening, and make 
 The like soft music. 
 
 Ant. That we may imitate (he loviiii,^ jialms, 
 Ik'nt embb-m of a peaceful mariiage 
 That never bor*; fruit divided. 
 
 Duch. Wliat ctiu the church force more? 
 
 Ant. That foHune nuiy not know an accident 
 Kither of joy, or sorrow, to divide 
 Our fixed wishes. 
 
 /)"ili. I low cnn the church build faster? 
 We now arc man and wife, an<l 'tis the church 
 That must but echo this. Maid, stand apart: 
 
 VOL. II. N
 
 178 THE DUCHESS OF MALFL [act ii. 
 
 1 now am blind. 
 
 Ant. Wliat's your conceit in this ? 
 
 DucJi. 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 humourous kindi'cd ; and if you please, 
 Like the old 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 ! \_Exeunt. 
 
 Cart. Whether the spirit of greatness, or of woman 
 Reign most in her, I know not ; but it shews 
 A fearful madness : I owe her much of pity. [Exit. 
 
 ACT IL— Scene I. 
 
 Enter Bosola and Castruccio. 
 
 Bosola. 
 OU say, you would fain be taken for an eminent 
 ^> courtier ? 
 
 •0^3^^^ 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.
 
 sc. I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 179 
 
 To hum three or four times, or blow your nose till it smart 
 
 agaui, 
 
 To recover your memory. ^Mien you come to be a presi- 
 dent 
 In criminal causes, if you smile upon a prisoner, hang him, 
 
 but if 
 You fiown 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' cat meat seldom, 
 And that makes them so valiant. 
 But how shall I know whetliei- 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 onr of tin' prinie night-caps.' 
 
 Enter an ()\.\> Lakv.'' 
 
 You come from painting now. 
 Old IjU'Iij. I'rom wliat ? 
 Bos. \N liy. from your scurvy face-physic. 
 
 ' T\v cunt Icrm for the l)iillyin^ liiicks of <iur iiiithdr'i* lime. 
 
 ' Aiiihl-riijin, — iiniilhcr ti-rm t'ur llic hiillii'.s dt'tlic tiincj. 
 
 * ThiH <'iilriinc(' is supplied liy Mr. Dyco. In tlic oriKiniil. nil 
 the ptTsoHH who npp»;ur durint; tlic Hft-iica tire mimed logclii.T iil 
 its commencement.
 
 1 so THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act n. 
 
 To behold thee not painted, indines 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, 
 Flay'd the skin oif her face, to make it more level ; 
 And whereas before she looked like a n\itmeg-grater, 
 After she resembled an abortive hedgehog. 
 Old Lady. Do you call this painting ? 
 Bos. No, no, but you call 't careening of an old 
 Morphewed' lady, to make her disembogue again : 
 There's rough-cast phrase to your plastic. 
 
 Old Lady. It seems you are well acquainted with my 
 closet. 
 
 Bos. One would suspect it for a shop of witchcraft, 
 To find in it the fat of serpents, spawn of snakes, Jews' 
 
 spittle, 
 And their young childrens' ordure ; and all these for the 
 
 face. 
 T would sooner eat a dead pigeon, taken from the soles of 
 
 the feet 
 Of one sick of the plague, than kiss one of you fasting. 
 Here are two of you, whose sin of your youth is the very 
 Patrimony of the physician ; makes him renew 
 His foot-cloth with the spring, and change his 
 High-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, 
 
 ' Leperous.
 
 sc. I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 181 
 
 A fawn, or goat, in any limb resembling 
 
 A man, and fly fiom't as a prodigy. 
 
 Man stands amaz'd to see his deformity 
 
 In any other creature but himself. 
 
 But in om" 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 teiror, is, lest our physician 
 
 Should put us in the ground, to be made sweet. 
 
 "^'our 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 ami the Old Lady} 
 
 I observe our duchess 
 
 Is sick a-days, she pukes, her stomach seethes. 
 
 The fins of hor eyelids look most teeniiug blue. 
 
 She wanes i'th' check, ami waxes fat i'tii' flank. 
 
 And, contrary to our Italian fa.shion, 
 
 Wears a loose-bodied gown ; there's something in't. 
 
 I have a trick may chance discover it, 
 
 A pretty one : I have bought some apricocks,' 
 
 The first our spring yields — 
 
 Enter Antonio (nid Di-.mo. 
 
 Delio, And so long since married ! 
 
 ' Siippliofl l)y Mr. Dyro. 
 
 ' IIi.s reason fur bringing apricots will appear further on.
 
 182 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act ii. 
 
 You amaze me. 
 
 Ant. Let me seal your lips for ever: 
 For did I think, that anything hut th' air 
 Could carry these words from you, I should wish 
 You had no breath at all. — Now, sir, in your contem- 
 plation ? 
 You are studying to become a great wise fellow. 
 
 Bos. O, SU-, the opinion of wisdom. 
 Is a foul tetter, that runs 
 All over a man's body : if simplicity 
 Direct us to have no evil, 
 
 It directs us to a happy being : for the subtlest folly 
 Proceeds from the subtlest wisdom : 
 Let me be simply honest. 
 
 Aiit. \ do understand your mside. 
 
 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. 
 
 Bos. Give me leave to he honest in any phrase, in any 
 Complement whatsoever. Shall I confess myself to you ? 
 1 look no higher than I can roach : 
 They are the gods that must ride on winged horses. 
 A lawyer's mule, of a slow pace, will both suit 
 My dispositi(jn and business : for, mark me, 
 When a man's mind lides 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 duchess ; a duke was your
 
 6C. I.J TUE DUCHESS OF MALFT. 183 
 
 Cousin-go rmaii removed. Say j-ou wero 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 buhbles of water. Some would think 
 
 The souls of princes were brought forth 
 
 By some more weighty cause, than those of meaner persons : 
 
 They are deceived, there's the same hand to them ; 
 
 The like passions sway them ; 
 
 The same reason 
 
 That makes a vicar to go to law fur a tithe-pig, 
 
 And undo his neighbours, makes them spoil 
 
 A whole province, and batter down 
 
 Goodly cities with the cannon. 
 
 Eater Duchess and Ladies.^ 
 
 Ducli. Your arm, Antonio : do T not grow fat ? 
 I am exceeding short-winrlcd. ]JosoIa, 
 I would have you, sir, provide for me a litter ; 
 Such a one as the Duchess of Florence rode in. 
 
 Dos. The duchess us'd one when she was great with child. 
 
 Duch. 1 think slic diil. Cdmh' hither, imiid my niti": 
 Ilorc, when?- thou art such a todious lady ; and 
 Thy breath smellH of lemon pills : would tliuu hadst done ! 
 Shall I Hwiton under thy fingers/ 1 am 
 So troubled with the mother.'' 
 
 Bos. I fear too much. 
 
 Duch. I have heard you say, that the French courticra 
 
 ' Siippli<(l liy Mr. Dyco. 
 
 ' All <x<lain!itii>n of imputicnce — JFVicn will you have clone ? 
 
 • Hysterical paswions.
 
 184 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act ii. 
 
 Wear their hats on fore the king. 
 
 Ant. I have seen it. 
 
 Duch. In the presence ? 
 
 Ant. Yes. 
 
 Dmh. A\niy 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 
 Methought shew'd reverently. 
 
 Bos. I have a present for your grace. 
 
 Duch. For me, sir? 
 
 Bos. Apricocks, madam. 
 
 Duch. O, sir, where arc they? 
 I have heard of none to^ year. 
 
 Bos. Good, her colour rises. 
 
 Duch. Indeed I thank you : they are wondrous fair ones: 
 Wliat an unskilful fellow is our gardener ! 
 We shall have none this month. 
 
 Bos. Will not your grace pare them ? 
 
 DucJi. No : they taste of musk, methinks ; indeed they 
 do. 
 
 Bos. I know not : yet I wish your grace had par'd 'em. 
 
 Duch. ^Miy? 
 
 Bos. I forgot to tell you, the knave gardener, 
 Only to raise his profit by tlicui the sooner, 
 
 • An expression now rustic, but quite analogous with the to- 
 day which retains its position in genteel society.
 
 sc. I.] TUE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 185 
 
 Did ripen them in horse-dung. 
 
 Duch. O, you jest. — 
 You shall judge : pray, taste one. 
 
 Ant. Indeed, madam, 
 1 do not love the fruit. 
 
 Duch. Sir, you are loath 
 To rob us of our dainties : 'tis a delicate fruit ; 
 They say they are restoi-ative. 
 
 Bos. 'Tis a pretty art. 
 This fjraftin;;. 
 
 Duch. 'Tis so : a bettering of nature. 
 
 Bos. To make a pipj)in grow upon a crab, 
 A damson on a black-thorn. How greedily she cats them ! 
 A whirlwind strike off these bawd furthino-ales ! 
 For, but for that, and the loose-bodied gown, 
 I should have discover'd apparently 
 The young springal cutting a caper in her belly. 
 
 Dufli. I thank you, Bosola : they were right good ones, 
 If thfy do not make me sick. 
 
 A III. JIf»w now, madam? 
 
 Dvxh. This green fruit and my stomach arc not friends : 
 How they swell mc ! 
 
 Bos. Nay, you are too much swdlM already. 
 
 Duch. O, I am in an extreme cold sweat ! 
 
 Box. I am very soiry. \^l'lvit. 
 
 DuA-h. Ijights to my chamber, O, good Antonio, 
 I fear I am undone ! 
 
 Delio. TJghts there, lights. [Exit Duchess. 
 
 Ant. O my most trusty l)(li(i, we aif lost ! 
 I fear she's falli n in luboui' ; and there's left 
 No time for her remove.
 
 186 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act n. 
 
 Delio. Have you prepar'd 
 Those ladies to attend her? and procur'd 
 That politic safe conveyance for the midwife, 
 Your duchess plotted ? 
 
 Ant. I have. 
 
 Delio. Make use then of this forc'd occasion : 
 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, 
 
 Delio. For that you may pretend 
 She'U 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 tetchiness 
 And most vulturous eating of the apricocks, are 
 Apparent signs of breeding. 
 
 Enter an Old Lady.^ 
 Now? 
 
 Old Lady. I am in haste, sir. 
 
 Bos. There was a young waiting-woman, had a mon- 
 strous desire 
 To see the glass-house — 
 
 ' Supplied by Mr. Dyce.
 
 8c. n.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 187 
 
 Old Lady. Naj, pray let me go. 
 
 Bos. And it was only to know what strange instrument 
 it was, 
 Should swell up a olass to the fashion of a woman's holly. 
 
 Old Ladtj. I will hear no more of the glass-house. 
 You are still ahusing women. 
 
 Bos. Who I? no, only, hy the way, now and then, 
 Mention your frailties. Tlic orangc-trec 
 Bears ripe and green fruit and hlossoms. 
 Altogether : and some of you 
 Give entertaiimient for pure love, l)ut more. 
 For more precious reward. The lusty 
 Spring smells well ; hut drooping autumn tastes well. If we 
 Have the same golden showci's, that rained in the time of 
 
 Jupiter 
 The thunderer, you liave the sameDanaes still, to hold up 
 Their laps to receive them. Didst thou never study 
 Tiie mathematics ? 
 
 Old Lad, I. Wliat's tliat, sir? 
 
 Bos. Why, to know the trick how tu make a many Hues 
 meet 
 In one centre. Go, go, give your foster-daughters good 
 
 counsel : 
 Tell them, that tlie d(!vil takes delight to hang at a woman's 
 
 girdle, 
 Like a false nisty watdi, (hat she cannot (lisccrn 
 How the tim«! passes. \^Ejclt Old Ltvlij. 
 
 Enter Antoni<i, llMiiutuKi, nnd GliisoLAN. 
 
 Ant. Shut np the court-gates. 
 liod. Wliy, sir? what's tlic daJiger?
 
 1S8 THE DUCHESS OF MALFL [act ii. 
 
 Ant. Shut up tlie posterns presently, and call 
 All the officers o'th' court. 
 
 Gris. I sliall instantly. \Ex\t. 
 
 Ant. "V\lio keeps the key o'th' park gate ? 
 
 Hod. Forobosco. 
 
 Ant. Let him bring't presently. 
 
 Enter Grisolan and Servants. 
 
 First Serv. O, gentlemen o'th' court, the foulest treason ! 
 
 Bos. If that these apricocks should be poison'd now. 
 Without my knowledge ! 
 
 Serv. There was taken even now a Switzer in the duchess' 
 bed-chamber — 
 
 Second Serv. A Switzer ! 
 
 Serv. AVith a pistol in his great cod-piece. 
 
 Bos. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Serv. The cod-piece was the case for't. 
 
 Second Serv. There was a cunning traitor ; who would 
 have search'd his cod-piece? 
 
 Serv. True, if he had kept out of the ladies' chambers : 
 and all the moulds of his buttons were leaden bullets. 
 
 Second Serv. O, wicked cannibal ! a firelock in's cod- 
 piece ! 
 
 Serv. 'Twas a French plot, upon my life. 
 
 Second Serv. To see what the devil can do ! 
 
 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 duchess' cabinet.
 
 sc. II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 189 
 
 Are the gates shut ? 
 
 Serv. Yes, 
 
 Ant. 'Tis the duchess' pleasure 
 Each officer be lock'd into his chamber 
 Till the sun-rising ; and to send the keys 
 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 tak't not ill : the innocent 
 Shall be the more approv'd by it. 
 
 Bos. Gentlemen o'th' wood-yard, whore's your Switzer 
 
 now? 
 
 Serv. By this hand 'twas credibly reported by one o'th' 
 blackguiud.» [Exeunt Gentlemen. 
 
 Delio. How fares it with the duchess ? 
 
 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 ilonbt nie. 
 
 Ant. O, 'tis far fmni inc ! and yet fear presents mc 
 Somewhat that looks like danircr. 
 
 Delio. Hclieve it, 
 'Tis but the shallow of your fear, no more: 
 How Huperstitiously we mind our evils ! 
 The throwing down salt, di noHsing of a hare, 
 I'lecding at nose, the stumbling of a horse, 
 Or singing of a cricket, arc of power 
 
 ' Ono of the scullions or lower aiTvaiilK.
 
 190 THE DUCHESS OF MALFL [act n. 
 
 To daunt wholo man in us. Sir, fare you well : 
 
 I wisli you all the joys of a blost father ; 
 
 And, for my foitli, lay this unto your breast, 
 
 Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best. \_Exit. 
 
 Enter Caeiola. 
 
 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 : Til presently 
 Go set a figure for's nativity. [^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Enter Bosola, with a darh lantern. 
 
 Bos. Sure I did hear a woman shriek : list, ha ! 
 And the sound came, if I receiv'd it right. 
 From the duchess' lodgings. There's some stratagem 
 In the confining all our courtiers 
 To their several wards : I must have part of it ; 
 My intelligence will freeze else. List, again ! 
 It may be 'twas the melancholy bird, 
 Best friend of silence and of 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. 
 
 I
 
 8C. 11.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 191 
 
 Ant. Bosola ! 
 This mole does undermine me — Heard you not 
 A noise even now ? 
 
 Bos. From whence? 
 
 Ant. From the duchess' lodffinsr. 
 
 Bos. Not I : 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 scttinjr a fiaure 
 For the duchess' jewels. 
 
 Bos. Ah, and how falls your question ? 
 Do you find it radical ? 
 
 Ant. What's that to you ? 
 'Tis rather to he question'd what design, 
 When all men were commanded to their lodgings, 
 Makes you a night-walker. 
 
 Bos. In sootli I'll till yiMi : 
 Now all the court's aslecj), 1 thought the devil 
 Had least to drj hen"; I came to say my prayers. 
 And if it do offend you 1 do so, 
 You are a fine courtier. 
 
 Ant. 'i'his fellow will undo iiif. 
 You gave flic duchess apricocks to-day : 
 Pray hfavf-n they were not poison'd. 
 
 Bos. i'oison'd ! a Spanish fig' 
 
 ' Figs were a common medium for poiiion.
 
 192 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act ii. 
 
 For the imputation. 
 
 Ant. Traitors are ever confident, 
 Till they arc discovcr'd. There were jewels stol'n too : 
 In my conceit, none are to be suspected 
 More than yourself. 
 
 Bos. You are a false steward. 
 
 Ant. Saucy slave, I'll pull thee up by the roots. 
 
 Bos. Maybe the ruin will crush you to pieces. 
 
 Ant. You are an impudent snake indeed, sir. 
 Are you scarce warm, and do you show 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 arc wrote here for my name, 
 Are drown'd in blood ! 
 
 Mere accident. — For you, sir, I'll take order 
 I'th' mom you shall be safe — 'tis that must colour 
 Her lying in — sir, this door 3^ou pass not : 
 I do not hold it fit that you come near 
 The duchess' lodgings, till you have quit yourself. — 
 The great are like the base, nay, they arc the same, 
 ^Mien they seek shameful ways to avoid shame. \^Exit. 
 
 Bos. Antonio hereabout did drop a paper. 
 Some of your help, false friend.^ O, here it is : > 
 
 ^^'hat'8 here ? a child's nativity calculated ! V 
 
 77ie Duchess was delivered of a son, "'tween the hours \ 
 twelve and one in the night, Anno Dom. 1504, (that's this 
 
 ' (To his lantern.)
 
 8c. ni.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 193 
 
 jear) decimo nono Decembris, (that's tliis night,) taLtn 
 
 according to the meridian of MaJJi (that's our Duchess : 
 
 }iappy discovery !) The lord of the first house heiiig comhusf 
 
 in the ascendant, 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. Ceetcra nou scru- 
 
 tantur. 
 
 ANliy, now 'tis most apparent : this piccise fellow 
 
 Is the duchess' bawd — I have it to my wish ! 
 
 This is a parcel of intclligency 
 
 Our courtiei-s were cas'd up for : it needs must follow, 
 
 That I mast be committed, on pretence 
 
 Of poisoning her; which I'll endure, and laugh at. 
 
 If one could find the father now ! but that 
 
 Time will discover. Old Castruccio 
 
 I'th' morning posts to Rome: by him I'll send 
 
 A letter, that shall make her brothers' galls 
 
 O'ei-flow 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. 
 
 SCENK 1\. 
 Enter CAnniNAi., hikI .Ii i.ia. 
 
 (,'itrtl. Sit: tiiou art uiy lu'^t of wishes. I'ritliee tell me. 
 What trif'k didst thou invent to come to Ilomc 
 Without thy husband? 
 
 Jiiliii. Why, iriv liiiil, I told liitii 
 I came to visit nn old iirw liDiitc 
 Here, for devotion. 
 
 Card, 'i'hfiii ait a witty false onr- ; 
 
 VOL. II. o
 
 194 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act ii. 
 
 I mean, to hitn. 
 
 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 o\i\\ guijt. 
 
 Julia. How, my lord? 
 
 Card. You fear my constancy, because you have ap- 
 prov'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 them fixed. 
 
 Julia. So, my lord. 
 
 Card. We had need go borrow that fantastic glass, 
 Invented by Galileo the Florentine, 
 To view another spacious world i'th' moon, 
 And look to find a constant woman there. 
 
 Julia. This is very well, my lord. 
 
 Card. Wliy 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 
 Above the world. Come, I'll love you wisely : 
 That's jealousy ; since I am very certain 
 You cannot make me cuckold. 
 
 Julia. I'll go home 
 To my husband. 
 
 Card. You may thank mc, lady :
 
 6c. IV.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. i\)o 
 
 I have taken you off your melancholy percli, 
 
 Bore you upon my list, and shew'd you game, 
 
 And let you fly at it. — I pray thee kiss me. — 
 
 When thou was't with thy husband, thou was't watch'd 
 
 Like a tame elephant : — (still you are to thank me :) — 
 
 Thou hadst only kisses from him, and high feeding ; 
 
 But what delight was that? 'twas just like one 
 
 That hath a little fingering on the lute. 
 
 Yet cannot tune it : — still you are to thaidc 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 physic. 
 
 Card. WHio'sthat?— 
 
 Bhfiter Skrvant.' 
 
 Rest firm, for m}' affection to thee, 
 Lightning moves slow.to't. 
 
 Serv. Madam, a gentleman, 
 That's come post from .Malfi, desires to see you. 
 
 Card. Let him enter : ril withdraw. \^Ex'd. 
 
 Serv. He says, 
 Your husband, old Castruccio, is conu" to Rome, 
 Most pitifully tired with tiding post. { Exit. 
 
 Enter Dklio. 
 
 Julia, Signior Dclio ! '(is one of iii\ nld suitors. 
 
 Delio. I was bold to coinc and see you. 
 
 Julia. Sir, you arc welcome. 
 
 Delio. Do you lie here ? 
 
 Julia. Sure, your own experience 
 
 ' Supi>licd by Mr. Dyco.
 
 IOC) THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act ii. 
 
 Will satisfy you, no : our Roman prelates 
 Do not keep lodging for ladies. 
 
 Delio. Very well : 
 T 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, 
 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 ? 
 .lulia. 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.^ I'll tell you, 
 This is a creature bred by 
 
 ' I pity that which moves your laughter. 
 
 ^ A cullis was a strong and savoury Vjroth of boiled meat, 
 strained, for debilitated persons : the old receipt books recommend 
 " pieces of gold " among its ingredients. — Dyce.
 
 sc. IV.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 197 
 
 Enter Servant, 
 
 Serv. Your husband's conic, 
 Hath dcHvcr'd a letter to the Duke of Calabria, 
 That to my thinkino-, 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. 
 
 DeJio. 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. 
 
 Delia. Aery 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 feaifully 
 Shews his ambition now ! unfoitunate fortune ! 
 They pa.ss through whirlpools, and deep woes do shun, 
 \Mio the event weigh, ere the actions doiic. \^E.rit. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 
 Enttr C.MtDINAL, (liiil 1''kUI)I.\AM) iri//i (i lillrr. 
 
 Ferd. I have this night <ligg'd np n inaiidrnkc 
 Card. Say you ? 
 
 F< I'd . Aim! I Jim KiDwii mud willi'l. 
 Card. \\ bat'« the prodigy? 
 
 F<rd. llt'n<l tin-re, a si.stcr flumri'd : slie'n loose i'tlT 
 hilts ;
 
 198 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act ii. 
 
 Grown a notorious strumpet. 
 
 Card. Speak lower. 
 
 Ferd. Lower ! 
 Rogues do not whisper't now, but seek to publislrt 
 (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 tui-n, 
 And more secure conveyances for lust, 
 Than towns of garrison for service. 
 
 Curd. Is't possible ? 
 Can tliis be certain ? 
 
 Ferd. Rhubarb, O, for rhubarb. 
 To purge this choler ! here's the cursed day 
 To prompt my memory ; and here't shall stick 
 Till of her bleeding heart I make a sponge 
 To wipe it out. 
 
 Card. AVliy 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 Ariagon and Castile, 
 Be thus attainted ? 
 
 Ferd. Apply desperate physic : 
 We must not now use balsamum, but fire. 
 The smarting cupping-glass, for that's the mean 
 To purge infected blood, such blood as hers.
 
 sc. v.] TUE DUCHESS OF MALFL 199 
 
 There is a kind of pity in mine eye, 
 
 I'll give it to my handkerchief ; and now 'tis here 
 
 I'll bequeath this to her bastard. 
 
 Card, ^^^lat to do ? 
 
 Ferd. ^V^ly, to make soft lint for liis 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 ! 
 
 Ftrd. 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 I 
 
 Card. Thus 
 Ignorance, when it hath purchas'd honour. 
 It cannot wield it. 
 
 Ferd. Methinks I see her laughing: — 
 Excellent hyena I Talk to me somewhat, (piickly, 
 Or my imagination will cany me 
 To see her in the shameful act of sin. 
 
 Card. With whom ? 
 
 Ferd. Ilapjiily with some strong-thigb'il bargeman, 
 Or one o'th' wocxl-yard, that can quoit the sledge. 
 Or Utnn the bar, or else soirio lovely H(|uire 
 That carries coals up to her ])rivy lodgings. 
 Card. You fly beyond your rea.son. 
 
 Ferd. Go to, mistress ! 
 'Tis not your wborc's milk that shall (|iiiii(li my wild-fire, 
 ]}ut your whore's blortd. 
 
 Card. How idly shews tliis rage, which rarries you, 
 As men convey 'd by witches through the air,
 
 200 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act h. 
 
 On violent wliirl winds ! this intemperate noise 
 Fitly resembles deaf men's shrill discourse, 
 WTio 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 exprcss'd 
 Their strong desu-e of rest, but by unrest. 
 By vexing of themselves. Come, put yom-self 
 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 thiidc 
 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. 
 That their curs'd smoke might not ascend to heaven ; 
 Or dip the sheets they lie in in pitch or sulphur, 
 Wrap them in't, and then light them like 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.
 
 80. v.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 201 
 
 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 string my whips. 
 
 And fix her in a general eclipse. [^Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III.— Scene I. 
 Enter Antonio and Delio. 
 
 Antonio. 
 ^LTl noble fiiend, 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 iioIjIc duchess ? 
 
 Ant. Right fortunately well : she's an excellent 
 Feeder of pedigrees ; since you last saw her, 
 She hath had tw(j children more, a son and daughter. 
 
 Delio. Methiiiks 'twas yesterday; let me but wink, 
 And not behold your face — which to mine eyo 
 I.<» somewhat leaner — verily I should dream 
 It were within this half hour. 
 
 Ant. You have not been in law, friend Dflio, 
 Nor in pnson, nor a suitor at the court, 
 Xor begg'd tlu' reversion of some gieat man's place, 
 Nor troubled with an old wife, which doth make 
 Your time so insensibly hasten. 
 
 Delio. Pray, sir, tell me, 
 J latli not this ncw.s arriv'd yet to the oar 
 Of the lord Cardinal? 
 
 Ant. I fear it hath :
 
 202 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act in. 
 
 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. "VMiat say the common people ? 
 
 Ant. The common rabble do directly say 
 She is a strumpet. 
 
 Delio. And your graver heads, 
 WTiich would be politic, what censure^ they? 
 
 Ant. They do observe, I grow to infinite piu-chase,^ 
 The left hand way ; and all suppose the duchess 
 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 obligation 
 Of love or marriage, between her and me, 
 They never dream of. 
 
 Delio. The Lord Ferdinand 
 Is going to bed. 
 
 Enter Duchess, Ferdinand, Bosola. 
 
 Ferd. I'll instantly to bed. 
 For I am weary. I am to bespeak 
 
 ' Think. 
 
 * Purchase — {^reat g!iins, ordinarily understood, in our author's 
 time, as having been acquired by unjust and dishonest means.
 
 sc. I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFL 203 
 
 A husband for you. 
 
 Duch. For me, sir ! pray who is't ? 
 
 Ferd. The OTCftt Count Malateste. 
 
 Duch. Fie upon him : 
 A count ! he's a mere stick of sugar-candy ; 
 You may look quite thorough him. When I choose 
 A husband, I will marry for your honour. 
 
 Ferd. You shall do well in't. How is't, worthy An- 
 tonio ? 
 
 Duch. But, sir, T am to have private conference with you 
 About a scandalous report is spread 
 Touching mine honour. 
 
 Ferd. Ijot 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. ^'ct, say that it were true, 
 I pour it in your bosom : my fi.\'d love 
 Would strongly excuse, extenuate, nay, deny 
 Faults, were they ajiparent in you. Go, be safe 
 In your own iiinocfiiey. 
 
 Diirh. (> I ili'ss'd comfort ! 
 This deadly air is purg'd. 
 
 [^Exeunt (ill lull Ferdinand and Bosola. 
 
 Ferd. Her guilt treads on 
 J lot burning cuhcrs. Now, liosola, 
 How tbrivcH our intelligence? 
 
 Bos. Sir, uncertainly : 
 'Tis rumour'd she hnth had three bastards, but 
 By whom, we may go read i'th' stars. 
 
 /'' /•'/. \V\\y some 
 Hold opinion, all things arc written there.
 
 204 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act hi. 
 
 Bos. Yes, if we could find spectacles to read them. 
 I do suspect, there hath been some sorcery 
 Us'd on the duchess. 
 
 Ferd. Sorcery ! to Avhat purpose ? 
 
 Bos. To make her dote on some desertless fellow, 
 She shames to acknowledge. 
 
 Ferd. Can your faith give way 
 To think there's power in potions, or in charms, 
 To make us love whether we will or no ? 
 
 Bos. Most certainly. 
 
 Ferd. Away, these are mere gullerics, 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 woiUd wish. 
 
 Bos. "VSTiat do you intend to do ? 
 
 Ferd. Can you guess ? 
 
 Bos. No. 
 
 Ferd. Do not ask then : 
 He that can compass me, and know my drifts, 
 ]May say he hath put a girdle 'bout the world, 
 And sounded all her quicksands.
 
 sc. I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 205 
 
 Bos. I do not think so. 
 
 Ferd. "NMiat do you think, then, pray ? 
 
 Bos. That you are 
 Your o\vn clu-onicle 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 fiiend a gix-at man's ruin strongly checks, 
 \Mio rails into his belief all liis defects. [Eweunt. 
 
 SCEXE II. 
 Enter Duchess, Antonio, and Carioi.a. 
 
 DuxJi. Tiring me the casket hither, and the glass. 
 You get no lodging here to night, my loi'd. 
 
 Ant. Indeed, I must persuade one. 
 
 Durh. \'ery good : 
 I hope in time 'twill grow into a custom. 
 That noblemen sliall come with cap and knee. 
 To purchase a night's lodging of their wives. 
 
 Ant. I must lie here. 
 
 Dnrh. .Must! you are a lord of misrule. 
 
 Ant. Indeed, my i-ulc is only in the night. 
 
 DurJi. To what use will you put me? 
 
 yiiil. We'll sleep together. 
 
 fjiir/i. AlfLs, 
 What pleasure ran two lovers find in slfcp I 
 
 Carl. My lord, I lie with her often ; and I know 
 She'll much dis(juiet you. 
 
 Ant. See, you are complainM of.
 
 206 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act hi. 
 
 Cari. For she's the sprawl ingest bedfellow. 
 
 Ant. I shall like her the better for that. 
 
 Cari. Sir, shall I ask you a question ? 
 
 Ant. Aj, pray thee, Cariola. 
 
 Cari. WTiereforc 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. 
 
 Ditch. I'll stop your mouth. 
 
 Ant. Nay, that's but one ; Venus had two soft doves 
 To draw her chariot ; I must have another. 
 "NMicn 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, 
 Decamc 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 choose. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis a hard question : this was Paris' case, 
 And he was blind in't, and there was great cause ; 
 For how wa.s't possible he could judge right. 
 Having three amorous goddesses in view, 
 
 ' Peevkh — foolish.
 
 sc. II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 207 
 
 And tlicy 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 fonn'd, 
 
 It puts me in mind of a question I would ask. 
 
 Carl AMiat 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. 
 
 Ditch. 0, that's soon answor'd. 
 Did you ever in your life know an ill painter 
 Desire to have his dwelling next door to the shop 
 (){ an excellent picture-maker? 'twould disgrace 
 His face-making, and undi) Iiim. I prithee, 
 WHicn were we so men-y ? JNIy hair tangles. 
 
 Ant. ]Vay thee, Cariola, let's steal forth the room, 
 And let her talk to hei-self : I have divers times 
 Serv'd her the like, when she hath chaf'd extromoly. 
 I love to see her angry. Softly, Curiola. | Kn unt. 
 
 Duch. Doth not the colour of my hair 'gin to change? 
 When I wax gra}-, I shall have all \\w court 
 Powder tlirii- liair wlili aiia^' \u \ir like me. 
 ^'ou have cau.se to love me; 1 enter'd you into my heart 
 Ik'fore you would vouchsafe to call for the keys. 
 
 Enter Fkudinand unseen. 
 
 Wo fthall one day liavc my brotiiers take you napping: 
 Mctliinks liis pre.Ht'ncc, being now in ('(nirt, 
 Should make you keep yoiii- <iwm \><^ : Imi mmi'II say 
 Love mixt with fear is sweetest. J Ml assure you, 
 
 ' Arriu. — Sc-o note, ante p. IIC.
 
 208 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act hi. 
 
 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. 
 
 Perd. Die then quickly, 
 
 [^Ferdinand gives her a ijoniard. 
 A'irtue, where art thou hid ? what hideous thing 
 Is it that doth eclipse thee? 
 
 Duch. Pray, sir, hear me. 
 
 Ferd. Or is it true thou art but a bare name, 
 And no essential thing ? 
 
 Duch. Sir 
 
 Ferd. Do not speak. 
 
 Duch. No, sir : 
 I will plant my soul in mine ears, to hear you. 
 
 Ferd. O, most imperfect light of human i-eason, 
 That mak'st us^ so unhappy to foresee 
 Wliat we can least prevent ! l^ursue thy ^vishes. 
 And glory in them : there's in shame no comfort. 
 But to be past all bounds and sense of shame. 
 
 Ditch. I pray, sir, hear me : I am married. 
 
 Ferd. So. 
 
 Duch. Happily,^ not to your liking : but for that, 
 Alas, your shears do come untimely now 
 To chp the bird's wings, that's already flown ! 
 AVill you see my husband ? 
 
 Ferd. Yes, 
 
 ' So in the original ; but there are evidently some words 
 missing. 
 ' [Is, — supplied by Mr. Dyce. 
 •' Perchance.
 
 sc. u.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 209 
 
 If I could change eyes with a basilisk. 
 
 Duch. Sure, you came liither 
 By his confederacy. 
 
 Ferd. The howling of a wolf 
 Is music to thee, screech-owl: prithee, peace. 
 AMiate'er thou art that hast enjoy 'd my sister, 
 Fnv I am sure thou hears't me, for thine own sake 
 Let me not know thee. I come hither prepar'd 
 To work thy discovery ; yet am now persuaded 
 It woidd he<;et such violent effects 
 As would damn us both. I would not fur ten millions 
 1 had beheld thee : therefore use all moans 
 I never may have kuDwIi'dge of tiiy niuue ; 
 Enjoy thy lust still, ami a wrctdicd life, 
 On that condition. And f(n' tlicc, vile woman, 
 If thou do wish thy lecher may grow old 
 In thy embraconients, I would have thee build 
 Such a room fur Iiim as our ancborites 
 To holier ust; inhabit. J^-t not the sm?i 
 Shine on bini, till he's dead ; let dugs and niunkics 
 Only converse witb lilni, and siicli (luiiili tilings 
 Tu wbuni initun? denies use to sonml his name ; 
 Do not keep a parafpiito,' lest she I<;nn il ; 
 If thou do love him, cut out i\\'\\n\ own tunirue 
 Lest it bcwniy liim. 
 
 DihIl. NN by might nut 1 nnirry? 
 I have not gone about in this to create 
 Any new worbl or custom. 
 
 Ferd. Thou art undone ; 
 \ tid thou hast tu'en that massy slicet of b'ad 
 
 ' Panxjuet. 
 vol.. II. !•
 
 210 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act hi. 
 
 That hid thy husband's bones, and folded it 
 About my heart. 
 
 Duch. Mine bleeds for't ! 
 
 Ferd. Thine ! thy heart ! 
 WTiat should I name't, unless a hollow bullet 
 Fill'd with unquenchable wild-fire ? 
 
 Duch. You are in this 
 Too strict ; and wore 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 Keputation, Love, and Death 
 Would travel o'er the world ; and it was concluded 
 That they should part, and take three several ways. 
 Death told them, they should find him in great battles. 
 Or cities ])lat!,u'd with plaf^ucs : TjOvo gives them counsel 
 To enquiie for him 'mongst unambitious shepliords, 
 Wliere dowries were not talk'd of, and sometimes 
 'Mongst quiet kindred, that had nothing left 
 By their dead parents : stay, quoth Ilc{)utation, 
 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 l{oj)utation, 
 And made him invisible. So fare you well : 
 I will never see you more. 
 
 Duch. Why should only I, 
 Of all the other princes of the world. 
 Be cas'd up, like a holy relic ? I have youth.
 
 sc. ri.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 211 
 
 And a little beauty. 
 
 terd. So you have some virgins, 
 That are witches. I will never see thee more. \_Erit. 
 
 Enter Antonio with a pistol. 
 
 Duch. 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. 
 
 iJuch. 'i'hat gallery gave him entrance. 
 
 Ant. I would this tonihlc thing would come again, 
 That, standing on my guard, I might relate 
 My warrantable love ! JIa ! what means this? 
 
 \_She shews the poniard. 
 
 Dnrh. He left this with me. 
 
 Aiif. And it seems, did wish 
 ^'ou would use it on yourself. 
 
 Uiuh. His action 
 Secm'd to intend so much. 
 
 Ant. Thin bath a handle to't, 
 As well a-H a point: tiuii it towards him. 
 And HO fasten fbe keen edge in bis rank gall. 
 How now! who knocks? more cfUtlKiiiakes ! 
 
 JJiirh. 1 stand 
 Am if a mine beneatli my feet were rea<ly 
 'I o !)(• Mown up. 
 
 Cari. 'Tis iJosola. 
 
 To Cnriola.
 
 212 THE DUCHESS OF MALTL [act in. 
 
 Diich. 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 whirlwind ; 
 Hath took horse, and 's rid post to Rome. 
 
 Duch. So late ! 
 
 Bos. He told me, as he mounted into th' saddle, 
 You were undone. 
 
 Ducli. Indeed, I am very near it. 
 
 Bos. What's the matter ? 
 
 Duch. 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 lots the bonds be forfeit. 
 
 Bos. Strange ! — this is cunning ! 
 
 Duch. And hereupon 
 !My brother's bills at Naples are protested 
 Against. Call up our officers. 
 
 Bos. I shall. \_Exlt. 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 Duch. 1'he 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 cnginous*^ wheels : short syllables, 
 Must stand for periods. I must now accuse you 
 
 ' Depart. '■' Ingenious ; or, perhaps, complicated.
 
 sc. II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 213 
 
 Of such a feigned crime, as Tasso calls 
 
 Magnanima menzof/na, a noble lie, 
 
 'Cause it must shield our honours : — hark, thej are comino-! 
 
 Biiter BosoLA and Gentlemen. 
 
 Ant. "Will your grace hear me ? 
 
 Duch. I have got well by you ; you have yielded me 
 A million of loss: 1 am like to inherit 
 The people's curses foi- youi' stewardship. 
 You had the tric-k in audit-time to be sick, 
 Till I had sign'd your Quietus ; and that cm'd you 
 Without help of a doctor. Gentlemen, 
 I would have this man be an exaniple to you all, 
 So shall you hold my fiivoui-; I pray, let him ; 
 For h'as done that, alas ! you would not think of, 
 And, because I intend t(j lie rid dl'lilin, 
 I mean not to publisli. L'sc your fortune elsewhere. 
 
 Auf. I am strongly arniM to l)rook my overthrow: 
 As commoidy men bear wilh a hard year, 
 1 will not blame the cause out ; but do think 
 The necessity of my malevolent star 
 IVocurcH this, not lni lniinoiir. (), ihr iiiciiMslant 
 Ami rotten ground of service ! you may see, 
 "I'is even like him, that in a winter night, 
 Takes a long sbunlier o'er a dying fire, 
 A-lonth to |)art from't ; yet parts thence as cold, 
 As when he first sat down. 
 
 Duch. We do confiscate 
 Towards the satisfying of your accounts, 
 All that you have. 
 
 Ant. I am all yours ; and 'tis very fit
 
 214 THE DUCHESS OF MALFL [act hi. 
 
 All mine should be so. 
 
 Buck. So, sir, you have your pass. 
 
 Ant. You may see, gentlemen, what it is to seiTe 
 A prince with body and soul. {Exit. 
 
 Bos. Here's an example for extortion : what moisture 
 Is drawn out of the sea, when foul weather comes 
 Pours down, and runs into the sea again. 
 
 Duch. 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 his officer, for your 
 own sake. 
 
 Fourth Off. You would have had more money. 
 
 First Off. He stopped his cars with black wool, and to 
 those came to him for money, said he was thick of hearing. 
 
 Second Off. Some said he was an hermaphrodite, for 
 he could not abide a woman. 
 
 Fourth Off. How scurvy proud he would look, when the 
 treasmy was full ! well, let him go. 
 
 First Off. Yes, and the chippings of the buttery fly 
 after him, to scour his gold chain. 
 
 Duch. Leave us. [Exeunt. 
 
 Wliat do you think of these ? 
 
 Bos. That these are rogues, that in 's prosperity. 
 But to have waited on his foitune, could have wish'd 
 His dirty stiirup rivettcd through their noses; 
 And follow'd after 's mule, like a boar in a ring. 
 ^^'ould have prostituted their daughters to his lust ; 
 Made their iirst-born intelligencers 3^ thought none happy 
 
 ' Informers.
 
 sc. n.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 215 
 
 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 sort' of flattering rogues behind him ; 
 
 Their doom must follow. Princes pay flatterers 
 
 In their own money : flatterers dissemble their vices, 
 
 And they dissemble their Ues ; that's justice. 
 
 Alas, poor gentleman ! 
 
 Duck. Poor ! he hath amply fill'd his coffers. 
 
 Bos. Suie he was too honest. Plutus, the god of riches, 
 WTicn he's sent by Jupiter to any man, 
 He goes limping, to sigiiif}' 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." 
 Lct me shew you, wiiat a most unvalued jewel 
 You have in a wanton ImnnMii- tluown away. 
 To bless the man sliall liml him. lie was an excellent 
 Courtier, and most faitliful ; a soldier, tliat tlionglit it 
 As beastly to know bis own value too little. 
 As devilish to acknowledge it too much. 
 IJoth bis virtue and form deserv'd a far better fortune. 
 His discourse rather delighted to judge itself, than shew 
 
 itself: 
 His breast was fill'd with all perfection. 
 And yet it seemed a private whispering-room, 
 It niad(! so little noise oft. 
 
 iJiuh. J}nt lie was bitsely descended. 
 
 Bos. Will you make yourself a mercenary herald, 
 Itjjther to examine men's pedigrees, than virtues ? 
 
 • Company. ' Scutllo, " tu walk fuat.'— 1Iai,liweu..
 
 216 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act hi. 
 
 You shall want him : 
 
 For know an honest statesman to a prince, 
 
 Is like a cedar planted by a spring : 
 
 The spring bathes the tree's root, the grateful tree 
 
 Rewards it with his shadow — you have not done so. 
 
 I would sooner swim to the Bermoothes' on 
 
 Two politicians' rotten bladders, tied 
 
 Together with an intelligencer's heart-string, 
 
 Than depend on so changeable a prince's favour. 
 
 Fare thee well, Antonio ! since the malice of the world 
 
 Would needs down with thee, it cannot be said yet 
 
 That any ill happened unto thee, considering thy fall 
 
 Was accompanied with virtue. 
 
 Ducli. O, you render me excellent music ! 
 
 Bos. Say you ? 
 
 Duch. This good one that you speak of, is my husband. 
 
 Bos. Do I not dream ? can this ambitious age 
 Have so much goodness in't, as to prefer 
 A man merely for woith, without these shadows 
 Of wealth and painted honours? possible? 
 
 Bucli. I have had three children by him. 
 
 Bos. Fortunate lady ! 
 For you have made your piivate 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 prefei'ment in the world can yet 
 Arise from merit. The virgins of your land 
 That have no dowries, shall hope your example 
 AVill raise them to rich husbands. Should you want 
 
 ' The Bermudas.
 
 sc. n.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFL 217 
 
 Soldiers, 'twould make the very Turks and Moors 
 
 Turn Christians, and serve you for this act. 
 
 Last, the nogk'Cted 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 than all the cabinets 
 
 Of living princes. For Antonio, 
 
 His fame shall likewise flow from many a pen, 
 
 Allien heralds shall want coats to sell to men. 
 
 Duch. As I taste comfort in this friendly speech. 
 So would I find concealment. 
 
 Box. O, the secret of my prince, 
 Which I will wear on th' inside of my heart ! 
 
 Duch. You shall take charge of all my coin and jewels, 
 And follow him ; for he retires himself 
 To Ancona. 
 
 Bos. So. 
 
 Duch. \Nniithor, witliiii few days, 
 I mean to follow thee. 
 
 BoK. I^et n)e think : 
 I would wish your grace to feign a pilgrimage 
 To our lady of Loretto, scarce seven leagues 
 From fair Ancona ; ho may y<in depart 
 Your conntry with more honour, and your flight 
 Will Hfcm a princely jjrogrcss, retaining 
 Your usual train about you. 
 
 Diicli. Sir, your direction 
 Shall lead nw by the hand. 
 
 Carl. In my opinion, 
 She were better progress to the baths a( Tiiicoa,
 
 218 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act hi. 
 
 Or go visit the Spa 
 
 In Germany ; for, if you will believe me, 
 I do not like this jesting with religion, 
 This feigned pilgrimage. 
 
 Buck. 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 Duchess and Cariola, 
 
 Bos. A politician is the devil's quilted anvil ; 
 He fashions all sins on him, and the blows 
 Ai'e never heard : he may work in a lady's chamber. 
 As here for proof. \Miat 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 Cardinal, Ferdinand, Malateste, Pescaba, 
 Delio, and Silvio. 
 
 Card. Must we turn soldier then ? 
 
 Mai. The emperor. 
 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 ?
 
 8c. ra.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFL 219 
 
 2faL The same. 
 Here's a plot* di-awn for a new fortification 
 At Naples. 
 
 Ferd. This gi-eat Count Malateste, I perceive, 
 Hath got employment ?- 
 
 Delia. No employment, my lord ; 
 A marginal note in the muster-book, that he is 
 A voluntary lord. 
 
 Ferd. He's no soldier. 
 
 Delio. He has worn gunpowder in's hollow tooth, for the 
 tooth -ache. 
 
 /S'/7. He comes to the leaguer with a full intent 
 To eat fresh beef and garlic, means to stay 
 Till the scent be gone, and straight return to court. 
 
 Delia. He hath read all the late service, 
 iSa the City Chronicle relates it : 
 And keeps two pewtcrers'' going, only to express 
 Battles in model. 
 
 ,S'(7. Then he'll fight by the book. 
 
 DeUo. By the alinanatk, I think, 
 To choose good days, and shun the critical ; 
 That's his mistress' scarf. 
 
 Sil. Yes, he protests 
 He would do much for that tnffata. 
 
 Dflio. f think he would run away from a battle, 
 To save it from taking prisoner. 
 
 ' Finn. 
 
 ' Tli<! friendly cfimmnnts upon Malateste which fallow are, of 
 courHe, spokf-n apart t'rum tlifir siiiijcct. 
 
 ' i. e. to inaki- iiiixIi-Ih in |i(?wi(r >>i' ihoevonfs. Pewter, it may 
 be observed, was t'lrmerly emisidered costly fiiriiiliin!. Tlio 
 Northiimlx'rJand no(is<liold li.MiU sIiowh that pewter wa» hired 
 by the year, even iu nuble fumilies. — Nauks.
 
 220 THE DUCHESS OF MALFL [act hi. 
 
 Sil. He is lionil)]y afraid 
 Gunpowder will spoil the perfume on't. 
 
 Del'io. I saw a Dutclmiau 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 touchhole to't. 
 He is indeed a guarded sumpter-cloth, 
 Only for the remove of the court. 
 
 Enter Bosola. 
 
 Pes. Bosola arriv'd ! what should be the business ? 
 Some faUing out amongst the cardinals. 
 These factions amongst great men, they are like 
 Foxes, when their lieads are divided, 
 They carry fire in their tails, and all the country 
 About them goes to wrack for't. 
 
 Sil. 'WTiat's that Bosola ? 
 
 Delio. I knew him in Padua, — a fantastical scholar, 
 Like sucli, who study 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 Caesar's nose by a shoeing-horn ; 
 
 and this 
 He did to gain the name of a speculative man. 
 
 Pies. 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
 
 sc. m.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 221 
 
 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. 
 Delia. Like a deadly cannon, 
 That lightens ere it smokes. 
 
 Pes. These are your true pangs of death, 
 The pangs of life, that struggle with great statesmen. 
 DeUo. In such a deformed silence, witches whisper their 
 
 charms. 
 Card. Doth she make relijiiou her ridinghood 
 To keep her from tlie sun and tempest ? 
 
 Ferd. That, that damns her. 
 Mcthinks her fault and beauty, 
 Blended together, shew like leprosy, 
 The whiter, the foulei-. I make it a question 
 ^^'hether her beggarly' brats were ever christen'd. 
 
 Card. T will instantly solicit the state of Ancona 
 To have them banisli'd. 
 
 Ft' id,. You are for Lorett(j : 
 I shall not be at your ceremony ; fuie yuu will. 
 Write to the Duke of Malfi, my young ne|)li<'W 
 She luul by her Hrst husband, and acquainl him 
 W'ith's niother's honesty, 
 Jios. I will. 
 Ferd. Antonio I 
 A slave that oidy HmcU'd of ink and counfcr'*, 
 And never iii's lifi- look'd like a gcntb'mnn, 
 Dut in the audit-time, do, go presently, 
 Draw me out an lumilred and tifty of our horse, 
 .\nd meet me at the fort-bridge. \_Kt'euiit,
 
 222 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act iti. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 Enter Two Pilgrims to the Shrine of our Lady of 
 
 Loretto. 
 
 First Pit. I have not seen a goodlier shrine than this, 
 Yet I have visited many. 
 
 Second Pil. The cardinal of Arragon 
 Is this day to resign his cardinal's hat : 
 His sister duchess 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 hahit of a soldier, performed in delivering up 
 his cross, hat, robes, and ring, at the shrine, and in- 
 vesting him, with sword, helmet, shield, and spurs: 
 then Antonio, the Duchess, and their children, hav- 
 inf I presented themselves at the shrine, are, hy 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 music, by divers churchmen, 
 and then exeunt : 
 
 Arms, and honours deck thy story,* 
 To thy fame's eternal glory : 
 Adverse fortune ever fly thee ; 
 No disastrous fate come nigh thee. 
 
 ' The 4to. of 1623 has this marginal note : " The author dis- 
 claims this ditty to be his."
 
 6C. IV.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 223 
 
 I alone will sing thy praises, 
 
 WHiom to honour virtue raises ; 
 
 And thy study, tliat divine is, 
 
 Bent to martial discipline is. 
 
 Lay aside all tho.se robes lie by thee ; 
 
 Crown thy arts with arms, they'll beautify thee. 
 
 O, worthy of worthiest name, adorn'd in this manner, 
 
 Lead bravely thy forces on, under war's warlike ban- 
 ner ! 
 
 O, may'st thou prove fortunate in all martial courses ! 
 
 Guide thou still b}' skill in arts and forces: 
 Victory attend thoe nigh, whilst fame sings loud thypowers ; 
 Triumphant conquest crown thy head, and blessings pour 
 down showers ! 
 
 First P'd. ITere's a strange turn of state ! who would 
 have thought 
 So great a lady would have niatcli'd herself 
 Unto HO mean a person ? yet the cardinal 
 Bears him much too cruel. 
 
 Secoii'l I'll. Tin V me l);nii>ir(]. 
 
 /'V/-.V/ /'//. I'll! I would ask what power hath this state 
 Of Ancona, to (letermine dfu free jirincc? 
 
 Second I'll. They are a free state, sir, and her lnotlier 
 shfw'd 
 How that the- I'opi- fore-hearing ol her looseness, 
 Hath seiz'd into the protection of the church 
 The (liikedutn, which she held i\n downger. 
 
 First I'll, r.iit l.y whdt justice? 
 
 Sfrotnf I'll. Snri' I think by none. 
 Only her brother s instigation.
 
 224 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act hi. 
 
 First Pit. Wliat was it witli sucli violence he took 
 Off from her finger ? 
 
 Second PU. 'Twas her wedding ring, 
 'V^Tiich he vow'd shortly he would sacrifice 
 To his revenge. 
 
 First Pil. Alas, Antonio ! 
 If that a man be thrust into a well, 
 No matter who sets hand to't, his own weight 
 Will bring him sooner to th' bottom. Come, let's hence. 
 Fortune makes this conclusion general, 
 All things do help th' uidiappy man to fall. \^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 
 Enter Duchess, Antonio, Childeen, Cabiola, and 
 Servants. 
 
 Ducli. lianish'd Ancona ! 
 
 Ant. Yes, you see what power 
 Lightens in great men's breath. 
 
 Duch. Is all our train 
 Slirunk to this poor remainder? 
 
 Ant. These poor men, 
 "Viliich have got little in your service, vow 
 To take your fortune : but your wiser buntings,^ 
 Now they are fledg'd, are gone. 
 
 Duch. They have done wisely. 
 This puts me in mind of death : physicians thus, 
 With their hands full of money, use to give o'er 
 Their patients. 
 
 ' Bunting, — a woodlark. — IIalliweix.
 
 sc. v.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 225 
 
 Ant. Right the fashion of the world : 
 From decay'd furtunes every flatterer shrinks ; 
 Men cease to biiikl where the foundation siidis. 
 
 Duch. I had a very strange dream to niglit. 
 
 Ant. "WTiatwas't? 
 
 Duch. Methouglit I wore my coi'onet of state, 
 And on a sudden all the diamonds 
 Were chang'd to pearls. 
 
 Ant. My interpretation 
 Is, you'll woep shortly ; for to me the pearls 
 Do signify your tears. 
 
 Duch. The hinls that live i'th' field 
 On the wild benefit of nature, live 
 Happier than we ; fur they may choose their mates, 
 And caiol their sweet pleasures to the spring. 
 
 Enter IJosola ivith a letter. 
 
 Bos. Yaw arc happily o'erta'cn. 
 
 Ducli. From my brother? 
 
 Bos. Yes, from the Lord Ferdinand, yiiir bmlher. 
 All love and safety. 
 
 Diir/i. Tlioii do.st blanch mischief, 
 Would'.Ht make it white. See, see, like to calm weather 
 At .sen before a tempest, false heails speak fair 
 To those they intend most mischief. 
 SetuI Antonio to ine ; 1 want his head in a huniams. 
 
 l^Hcada the letter. 
 A politic equivocation ! 
 
 lie doth not want your counsel, but yonr head ; 
 Thnt is, he cannot sleep till yon be d<;id. 
 Antl here's another pitfall that's strewM i>\r 
 
 VOL. II. (I
 
 226 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. \xct hi. 
 
 With roses ; mark it, 'tis a cunning one ; 
 
 / stand engaged for your husband, for several dehts at 
 
 Naples : let not that trouble him ; I had rather have his 
 
 heart than his money : 
 
 And I believe so too. 
 
 Bos. AMiat do you believe? 
 
 IMch. That he so much distrusts my husband's love, 
 He will by no means believe his heail 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 ? 
 
 Duch. Their league is like that of some politic kings. 
 Only to make themselves of strength and power 
 To be our after-ruin : tell them so. 
 
 Bos. And what fiom you ? 
 
 Ant. Thus tell him ; I will not come. 
 
 Bos. And what of this ? 
 
 Ayit. INIy brothers have dispers'd 
 IJlood-hounds abroad ; which till I hear are muzzled. 
 No truce, though hatch'd with ne'er such politic 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 fi-om 's. [^Exit. 
 
 Duch. I suspect some ambush : 
 Therefore by all my love I do conjure you 
 To take your eldest son, and fly towards Milan. 
 Let us not venture all this poor remainder.
 
 sc. v.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 227 
 
 In one unlucky bottom. 
 
 Ant. You counsel safely. 
 Best of ray life, farewell, since we must part: 
 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. 
 
 Duch. I know not which is best, 
 To see you dead, or part with 3'ou. Farewell, boy : 
 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 soiTow. In the eternal church, sir, 
 I do hope we shall not part thus. 
 
 Ant. O, be of comfort ! 
 Make patience a noble foititude, 
 And think not how unkindly we are us'd : 
 Man, like to cassia, is prov'd best, being ?iruis'd. 
 
 Duch. Must r, like to a slave-born Russian, 
 Account it praise to suffer tyranny ? 
 And yet, O heaven, thy heavy hand is in't ! 
 I have seen my little boy oft scotn-gc his top, 
 And compar'd myself to't : nought made me e'er go right 
 But heaven's scourgc^-stick. 
 
 Anf. Do not w((|) : 
 Heaven fn.Hhion'd us of nothing ; and we strive 
 To bring oiirscOves to nothing. Farewell, Cariolu, 
 And thy sweet armful. If I do never see thee more, 
 Be a good mother to your little ones, 
 And save them fiimi the tiger: fare yon well. 
 
 Duch. Ix-t mc look npr»n you once more, for that sp< (cb
 
 228 THE DUCHESS OF MALFL [act in. 
 
 Came from a djang 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 lumj) of lead, 
 Witli which I sound my daTigcr : fare you well. \_Exit. 
 
 Diich. My laurel is all wither'd. 
 
 Cari. Look, madam, what a troop of armed men 
 Make toward us. 
 
 Enter Bosola and Soldiers, vntli vizards. 
 
 Duch. O, they are very welcome ! 
 "VMien fortune's wheel is over-charg'd with princes, 
 The weight makes it move swift : I would have my niin 
 Be sudden. I am your adventure, am I not? 
 
 Bos. You are : you must see your husband no more. 
 
 Dudi. \Miat devil art thou, that counterfeits heaven's 
 thunder ? 
 
 Bos. Is that ten-ihle ? I would have you tell me 
 MHiether 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. 
 
 Duch. O misery ! like to a rusty o'er-charg'd cannon. 
 Shall I ne'er fly in pieces ? Come, to what prison ? 
 
 Bos. To none. 
 
 Duch. WTiithcr, then ? 
 
 Bos. To your palace. 
 
 Duch. I have heard that Charon's boat serves to convey 
 All o'er the dismal lake, but brings none back again. 
 
 Bos. Your brothers mean you safety and pity. 
 
 Duch. Pity ! A\'ith such a pity men preserve alive 
 Pheasants and quails, when they arc not fat enough
 
 sc. v.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 229 
 
 To be eaten. 
 
 Bos. These arc yoiu- chiltlien ? 
 
 Duch. Yes. 
 
 Bos. Can they prattle ? 
 
 DvA:h. Xo : 
 But I intend, since tliey were born accurs'd, 
 Curses shall be their first lano-uao-e. 
 
 Bos. Fie, madam. 
 Forget this base, low fellow. 
 
 Duch. Were I a man, 
 I'd beat that counterfeit face into thy other. 
 
 Bos. One of no birth. 
 
 Duch. Say that he was born mean, 
 Man is most happy when's own actions 
 Be arguments and examples of his virtue. 
 
 Bos. A bairon, beggarly virtue. 
 
 Duih. I prithee who is greatest? can you tell? 
 Sad tales betit 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 languagi; : Why art tliou so bold 
 To mix thyself with our high state of floods, 
 Being no eminent courtier, Imt (mio 
 That for the calmest, and fresh time o'th'year 
 Dost live in shallow rivers, rank'st thyself 
 With silly smelts nnd shrimps? and darest thou 
 Pass by our di)g-ship without reverence ? 
 O, f|uoth the salmon, sister, be at jieace : 
 Thank Jupiter, we both have past the net ! 
 Our value never can be truly known, 
 Till in the fisher's ba.sket we be shown :
 
 230 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act iv. 
 
 I' th' market then my price may be the higher, 
 
 Even when I am nearest to the cook and tire. 
 
 So to great men the nioial may be stretched ; 
 
 Men oft are valu'd high, when th' are most wretched. 
 
 But come, wliither you please. I 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 T. 
 
 Enter Ferdinand and Bosola. 
 
 Ferdinand. 
 ! OW doth our sister duchess bear herself 
 In her imprisonment ? 
 
 Bos. No])ly : I'll describe her. 
 She's sad, as one long us'd to't, and she seems 
 Kather to welcome the end of misery, 
 Than shun it ; a behaviour so noble, 
 As gives a majesty to adversity: 
 You may discern the shape of loveliness 
 More perfect in her tears than in her smiles : 
 She will muse for hours together ; and her silence, 
 Methinks, expresseth more than if she spake. 
 Ferd. Ilcr melancholy seems to be fortified 
 "With a strange disdain. 
 
 Bos. 'Tis so ; and this restiaint. 
 Like English mastiffs that grow fierce with tying, 
 Makes her too passionately apprehend 
 Those pleasures she's kept from. 
 
 1
 
 sc. I.J THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 231 
 
 Ferd. Cui-se upon her ! 
 I will no longer study in the book 
 Of another's heart. Infoi-m her what I told you. \^Ex'it. 
 
 Enter Dtjchess. 
 
 Bos. All oomfurt to your grace. 
 
 Diuh. I will have none. 
 Pray thee, why dost thou wrap thy poison'd pills 
 In gold and sugar? 
 
 Bus. Yoiu- elder bi-other, 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 ; 
 ^Vnd prays you gently neither torch nor t^ipcr 
 Shine in youi' chamber : he will kiss your hand, 
 And reconcile himself; but, for his vow, 
 lie dares not see you. 
 
 Duck. At his pleasure. 
 Take hence the lights ; he's come. 
 
 EMer Feudinand. 
 
 Ferd. When- an- yon ? 
 
 Dnch. Jlcn-, sir. 
 
 Ferd. This darkness suit.s you well. 
 
 Duth. I wKuId ask you pardtni. 
 
 Feril. \i>\\ have it ; 
 For I account it thr- hontiralil'Mt revenge, 
 Where I may kill, to |i!iril(ii). Where are your cubs? 
 
 JJnch. Wli.mi? 
 
 Ferd. Call them your cbiliirrii. 
 For though our national law distinguish bastards
 
 232 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act iv. 
 
 From tnic logitiinatc issue, compassionate nature 
 Makes them all equal. 
 
 Dmh. Do you visit me for this ? 
 You violate a sacrament o'th' church 
 Shall make you howl in hell for't. 
 
 Ferd. It had heen 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 man^s Tinnd. 
 To which you have vow'd much love ; the ring upon't 
 You gave. 
 
 Duch. I affectionately kiss it. 
 
 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 ow'd^ it ; you shall see 
 Wliether he can aid you. 
 
 Duch. You are very cold : 
 I fear you are not well after yoiu* travel. 
 Ha ! lights ! O, horrible ! 
 
 Ferd. Let her have lights enough. [&-?7. 
 
 Duch. AMiat witchcraft doth he practise, that he hath left 
 A dead man's hand here ? 
 
 [Here is discovered, behind a traverse, the artijicicd 
 figures of Antonio and his children, appear- 
 ing as if they ivere dead. 
 
 Bos. Look you, here's the piece, fi-om which 'twas ta'en. 
 He doth present you this sad spectacle, 
 ' Owned, possessed.
 
 sc. I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFL 233 
 
 That, now you know directly they are dead, 
 Hereafter you may wisely cease to grieve 
 For that which cannot be recovered. 
 
 Duch. There is not between heaven and earth one wish 
 I stay for after this : it wastes me more 
 Than were't my picture, fashion'd out of wax, 
 Stuck with a magical needle, and then bui'icd 
 In some foul dunghill ;i and yond's an excellent property 
 For a tjTant, which 1 would account mercy. 
 
 Bos. ^^^lat'sthat? 
 
 Duch. If they would bind mo to that lifeless trunk, 
 And let me fi-ecze to death. 
 
 Bos. Come, you must live. 
 
 Duch. That's the gi'catest 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. 
 
 Boh. O fie ! despair? remember 
 You arc a Christian. 
 
 Duch. The church enjoins fasting: 
 I'll starve myself to deatli. 
 
 Bdh. Ijcavc this vain s(jnow. 
 Things being at the worst, begin to niciul : liie bee 
 When he hath shot his sling into your hand. 
 May then play with your eyelid. 
 
 Duch. (iood comfortable fellow ! 
 Persuade a wretch that's bidki' upim tlif wind 
 To have all bis bunes new set; entreat lilm live 
 
 ' In (illiision to the mndc \iy wliicli witclios w<iro snppfi8(!(l gra- 
 dually to destroy thusc wlioiii iht-y wore incited to Itill.
 
 234 THE DUCHESS OF MALFL [act iv 
 
 To be executed asrain. Wlio must dispatch me? 
 I account this world a tedious tlieatrc, 
 For I do play a part in't 'gainst mj will. 
 
 Bos. Come, be of comfort ; I will save your life. 
 
 Duch. Indeed I have not leisure to tend so small a busi- 
 ness. 
 
 Bos. Xow, hy my life, I pity you. 
 
 Duch. 'J'hou art a fool then, 
 To waste thy pity on a thing so wretched 
 As cannot pity itself. 1 am full of daggers. 
 Puff, let me blow these vipers from me. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 AMiat are you ? 
 
 Serv. One that wishes you long life. 
 
 Duch. 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! 
 
 Duch. I coiJd curse the stars. 
 
 Bos. O, fearful ! 
 
 Duch. And those tliree smiling seasons of the year 
 Into a Russian winter : nay, the world 
 To its first chaos. 
 
 Bos. Look you, the stars shine still. 
 
 Duch. 0, but you must remember. 
 My curse hath a great way to go : — 
 Plagues, that make lanes through largest families, 
 Consume them ! 
 
 Bos. Fie, lady.
 
 sc. I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFL 235 
 
 Duch. Let tliem like tyrants 
 Never be remember'd, but for the ill they have done ; 
 Let all the zealous prayers of mortiticd 
 Churchmen forget them ! 
 
 Bos. O, uncharitable ! 
 
 Duch. Let heaven, a little while, cease crowning maiijTS, 
 To punish them ! Go, howl them this, and say, 1 long to 
 
 bleed : 
 It is some mercy when men kill with speed. [Extt. 
 
 Enter Ferdinand. 
 
 Ferd. Excellent, as I would wish ; she's plagu'd in art : 
 These presentations are but fiam'd in wax, 
 By the curious master in that quality, 
 Vincentio Lauriola, and she takes them 
 For true substantial boilies. 
 
 Bos. Why do you do this? 
 
 Ferd. To bring her to despair. 
 
 Bos. Taith, end here, 
 And go no farther in your cruelty ; 
 Send licr a penitential garment to put on 
 Next to her delicate skin, and fimii>b li«r 
 With beads, and prayer-bcmks. 
 
 Fill/. I)ainn lifi- 1 that body of hers, 
 While that my lilood ran pure in't, was more wmib 
 Than that which IIium wouldst ccmifort, called a soul. 
 I will send Imt nia>ks of common courtesans, 
 J lave her meat servM up by buwds and ruffians, 
 And, 'cause she'll needs be mad. T am resolvM 
 To I'emove forth the commo?! hospital 
 All the ma<l-folk, and place them near her lodging ;
 
 236 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act iv. 
 
 Tliere let them practise togetlier, sing and dance, 
 And act their ganiliols 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. IS'ever. 
 
 Ferd. You must. 
 
 Bos. Never in mine own shape ; 
 That's forfeited by mj intelligence,^ 
 And tliis last cruel lie : when jou send me next, 
 The business shall be comfort. 
 
 Ferd. Very likely ; 
 Thy pity is nothing of kin to thee, Antonio 
 Lurks about Milan : thou shalt shortly thither, 
 I'o feed a fire as great as my revenge. 
 Which never will slack till it have spent liis fuel : 
 lutemperate agues make physicians cruel. \_Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 Enter Duchess and Cariola. 
 
 Duch. VshsX hideous noise was that? 
 
 Cart. 'Tis the wild consort*^ 
 Of madmen, lady, which your tyrant brother 
 Ilath plac'd about your lodging : this tyranny, 
 I think, was never practis'd till this hour. 
 
 Duch. Indeed, I thank him : notliing but noise and folly 
 
 ' My having turned informer. 
 ^ An old form of concert.
 
 sc. n.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFL 2'il 
 
 Can keop me in my liglit wits ; whereas reason 
 And silence make me stark mad. Sit down ; 
 Discourse to me some dismal tragedy. 
 Cari. O, 'twill increase yom* melancholy. 
 Duch. Thou art deceiv'd : 
 To hear of greater grief woidd lessen mine. 
 This is a prison. 
 
 Cart. Yes, hut you shall live 
 To shake this durance off. 
 Duch. Thou art a fool : 
 The robin-red-breast and the nightingale 
 Never Hve long in cages. 
 
 Cari. Pray, dry your eyes : 
 ^\Tiat think you of, madam ? 
 
 Duch. Of nothing ; 
 \\nien I muse thus, I sleep. 
 
 Cari. Like a madman, with your eyes open? 
 Duch. Dost thou think wo shall know one another 
 In th' other world? 
 
 Cari. Yes, out of question. 
 J)iiili. (), that it were possible wo might 
 But hold some two days' conference with the dead ! 
 From them I shoidd loam somewli.if. F .im sure, 
 I never shall know licii-. I'll tell tliet- n miracle; 
 I am not mad yet, tu my cause of sorrow: 
 Th' heaven o'er my head seems made of niijlten brass, 
 TIio earth of flaming sulpbin-, yet I iiiii not mad. 
 F am acquainted with sad misery, 
 As the tnnn'd galley-slave is with his oar ; 
 Necessity makes me suffer constantly, 
 And custom makes it ca.sy. AVlium do I look like now?
 
 238 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act iv, 
 
 Cari. Like to your picture in the gallery, 
 A deal of life in show, but none in practice ; 
 Or rather like some reverend monument 
 ^Tiose ruins are even pitied. 
 
 Buck. Very proper ; 
 And fortune seems only to have her eyesight, 
 To behold my tragedy. How now ! 
 "WTiat noise is that ? 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Serv. I am come to tell you, 
 Your bi'other 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 selfsame cure 
 The duke intends on you. 
 
 Duch. Let them come in. 
 
 Enter Madmen. 
 
 Serv. There's a mad lawyer ; and a secular priest ; 
 A doctor, that hath forfeited his wits 
 ]5y jealousy ; an astrologian 
 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, ciaz'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 cmploy'd him in each morning :
 
 sc. n.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 239 
 
 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 amoner them. 
 
 Duch. Sit, Cariola. Let them loose when you please, 
 For I am chain'd to endure all your tyi'anny. 
 
 Here by a madman this Song is sumj, 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 ! 
 As ravens, screech-owls, bulls, and bears, 
 
 We'll bell, and bawl oui' parts, 
 Till irksome noise have cloy'd your ears, 
 
 And corrasiv'd^ 3'our hearts. 
 At last, wlienas our quire wants breath, 
 
 Our bodies being blest. 
 We'll sing, like swans, to welcome death, 
 
 And die in love and rest. 
 
 First MikIiikiii. J^ijoin's-day not come yet! I'll draw it 
 nearer by a perspective, or make a glass that shall set all 
 the world on tire ii|)()n an instant. 1 cannot sleep; my 
 |.illow is stuffed with a litter of porcupines. 
 
 Second Madman. I [ell is a mere glass-house, wliere lh«' 
 devils are contimially blowing up women's souls on hollow 
 irons, and tbe fire never goes out. 
 
 ' rrr)liil)itc(l frdiTi oxporting his corn. 
 ' Corratii'd, i. c. corrosiv'd, corrudiMi.
 
 240 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act ir. 
 
 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 outgo me, be- 
 cause I am a cuckold ? I have found out his roguery ; he 
 makes alum of his wife's mine, and sells it to Puritans 
 that have sore throats with overstraining. 
 
 First Madman. I have skill in heraldry. 
 
 Second Madman. Hast? 
 
 First Madman. You do give for your crest a woodcock's 
 head, with the brains picked out on't ; you are a very an- 
 cient gentleman. 
 
 Third Madman. Greek is turned Tmk : 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. "VMiat's he, a rope-maker? 
 
 Second Madman. Xo, 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 lar^ce featherbed in it. 
 
 'O" 
 
 ' i. e. presumably, the translation of the New Testament into 
 English, at Geneva, in 1557. 
 
 * Undur-petticoat. ^ Great coach.
 
 sc. n.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFL 241 
 
 Fourth Madman. I have pared the devil's nails forty 
 times, roasted thera in ravens' eggs, and eui-od agues with 
 them. 
 
 Third Madman. Get me three himdred milch bats, to 
 make possets to procure sleep. 
 
 Fourth Madman. All the college may throw their caps 
 at me ; I have made a soapboiler costive : it was my mas- 
 terpiece. 
 
 \_Here the dance, consisting of eight madmen, with 
 music answerable thereunto ; after which, 
 Bosola, nice an old man, enters. 
 
 Ducli. Is he mad too ? 
 
 Serv. Pray question liim. I'll leave you. 
 
 [^Exeunt all hut the Diu-hess and Bosoh. 
 
 Bos. I am come to make thy tomb. 
 
 Duch. Ila ! my tomb ! 
 Thou spoak'st, as if I lay u])on my death-bod, 
 Gasping for breath : dost tliou perceive me sick? 
 
 Bos. Yes, and the more dangerously, since thy sickness 
 Is insensible. 
 
 Duch. Thou art not mad sure : dost know me ? 
 
 Bos. Yes. 
 
 Dttch. \M)o am I ? 
 
 Bos. Thou art a box of worm-seed, at best but a salvaton ' 
 Of green nnunmy.- ^^'llat's tliis flesh ? a little crudi-d milk 
 Fantastical puff-]mste. Our bodies are weaker than those 
 Paper-prisons boys use to keep flies in; mure coMteiiiiitilile. 
 Since ours is to |ire»erve earth-worms. Didst tbou ever sei^ 
 A lark in a cage? such is the soul in the boily : this world 
 
 ' French, lahntnire : ft |)lace where anything is preserved. 
 ' See note, ante, page Vi. 
 
 VOL. II. U
 
 242 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act iv. 
 
 Js like her little turf of grass, and the heaven o'er our 
 
 heads, 
 Like her looking-glass, only gives us a miscrahle knowledge 
 Of the small compass of our prison. 
 
 Duch. Am not I thy duchess ? 
 
 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 milkmaid's. 
 Thou sleepest worse than if a mouse 
 Should be forced to take up her lodging in a cat's ear : 
 A little infant that breeds its teeth, should it lie with thee, 
 A\'oidd cry out, as if thou wert 
 The more unquiet bedfellow. 
 
 Duch. I am Duchess of Malfi still. 
 
 Bos. That makes thy sleep so broken : 
 Glories, like glowworms, afar off shine bright, 
 But look'd to near, have neither heat nor light. 
 
 Duch. Thou art very plain. 
 
 Bos. My trade is to flatter the dead, not the living ; 
 T am a tomb-maker. 
 
 Duch. And tliou com'st to make my tomb? 
 
 Bos. Yes. 
 
 Duch. Let me be a littli' men-y : 
 Of what stuff wilt thou make it ? 
 
 Bos. Nay, resolve me first, of what fashion ? 
 
 Duch. Why, do we grow fantastical in our death-bed ? 
 Do we affect fashion in the grave ? 
 
 Bos. Most ambitiously. Princes' images on their tombs 
 Do not lie, as they were wont, seeming to pray 
 rp to heaven ; but with their hands under their cheeks.
 
 sc. n.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 243 
 
 As if they died of the tooth-ache : they ai'e not carved 
 With their eyes fixt upon the stars ; but 
 As their minds wore wholly bent upon the world, 
 The selfsame way they seem to turn their faces. 
 
 Duch. Let me know fully, therefore, the effect 
 Of this thy dismal preparation, 
 This talk, fit for a charnel. 
 
 Bos. Xow I sliall : 
 
 [A coJJ^in, cords, and a bell hrowyht in. 
 Here is a present from your princely brothers, 
 And may it arrive welcome, for it brings 
 I^ast benefit, last sorrow. 
 
 Dudi. Let me see it : 
 I have 80 much obedience in my l)lood, 
 I wish it in their veins to do them good. 
 
 Bos. This is your last presence-chamber. 
 
 Cari. (), my sweet lady ! 
 
 Duch. Peace; it affrights not me. 
 
 Dos. I am the common bellman. 
 That usually is sent to condemn'd persons 
 The night before they suffer. 
 
 Duch. Even now ihou said'st 
 Thou wa.st a tomb-maker. 
 
 Bos. 'Twa.s to l)ring you 
 13y degrees to moilificatir)n. I^isten : [dirifc. 
 
 Hark, now L-verytiiing is still, 
 
 The screech-owl. and the whistler .slirili. 
 
 Call upon onr iliiiin' iiluml, 
 
 j\]\i\ l>i(l lnT (piickly (ion brr shroud ! 
 
 Much you had of liuiii iiini rent ;
 
 244 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act iv. 
 
 Your length in day'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 life a general mist of error, 
 
 Their death a hideous storm of terror. 
 
 Strew your hair with powders sweet, 
 
 Don clean linen, bathe your feet, 
 
 And (the foul fiend more to check) 
 
 A crucifix let bless your neck : 
 
 'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day ; 
 
 End your groan, and come away. 
 
 Cari. Hence, villains, tyi-ants, murderers ! alas ! 
 "VNTiat will you do with my lady ? — Call for help. 
 
 I)uch. To whom, to our next neighbours ? they are 
 mad-folks. 
 
 Bos. Remove that noise. 
 
 Duch. Farewell, Cariola. 
 In my last will, I have not much to give : 
 A many hungry guests have fed upon me ; 
 Thine will be a poor reversion. 
 
 Cari. T will die with her. 
 
 Dacli. I pray thee, look thou giv'st my little boy 
 Some syrup for his cold, and let the girl 
 Say her prayers ere she sleep. — Now what you please : 
 
 [^Cariola is forced out. 
 What death ? 
 
 Bos. Strangling ; here are your executioners. 
 
 Duch. I for ive them :
 
 sc. II.] TUE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 245 
 
 The apoplexy, catarrh, or cough o'th' kings, 
 Would do as much as they do. 
 
 Bos. Doth not death fright you ? 
 
 Duch. AMio would be afraid on't, 
 Knowing to meet such excellent company 
 In th' other world? 
 
 Bos. Yet, methinks, 
 The manner of your death slioiUd much afflict you ; 
 This cord should terrify you. 
 
 Diuh. Not a whit : 
 "\Miat would it pleasure me to have my tluoat cut 
 "With diamonds ? or to be smothered 
 With cassia? or fu he shot to death with pearls? 
 I know death hatli dti thousand several doors 
 For men to tukc tlidr exits ; and 'tis found 
 They go on such strange geometrical hinges. 
 You may open them both ways : any way, for heaven sake, 
 So 1 were out of your whispering. Tell my brothers, 
 Tiiat I perceive death, now I am well awake, 
 Best gift is they can give, or 1 caii take. 
 I would fain put off my last woman's fault, 
 I'd not be tedious to yon. 
 
 Execut. ^^'l• aic ri'ady. 
 
 Durh. Dispose my bivatli how please you, but my body 
 IJestow upon my women, will you? 
 
 Erend. Ves. 
 
 iJiuh. Pull, and pull strongly, for your able strength, 
 Must pull down heaven ii|iuii tiie: 
 Yet stay, heaven-gates are not so highly aich'd 
 As princes' palaces; they thil iiih r (here, 
 Must go upon their knees. Come, violent death,
 
 246 THE DUCUESS OF MALFT. [act iv. 
 
 Serve for mandragora, to make me sleep : 
 Go, tell my brothers, when I am laid out, 
 They then may feed in quiet. [^They stranyle her} 
 
 Bos. AMiere's the waiting-woman ? 
 Fetch her: some other stianole the children. 
 
 & 
 
 Enter Cabiola. 
 
 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, and 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 come to my answer, and know 
 
 ' " All the sevoral parts of the dreadful apparatus with which 
 the duchess's death is ushered in are not more remote from the 
 conceptions 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 inflic- 
 tions nfthis life, SO her language seems not. of this world. She has 
 lived among horrors till sh(; is become ' native and endowed unto 
 that elemiMit.' 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 Ijull of I'erillus, Procrustes' bed, to the 
 waxen images which counterl'tMt death, to the wild masque of 
 madmen, the tomb-maker, the bellman, the living person's dirge, 
 the mortification by degrees I To move a horror skilfully, to 
 touch a s(jul to the (|uick, 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 m(jrtal instruments to take its last forfeit; this only a 
 Webster can do. Writers of an inferior genius may ' upon 
 horror's head horrors accumidate,' but they cannot do this. They 
 mistake quantity for quality, they ' terrify babes with painted 
 devils,' but they know not how a soul is capable of being moved; 
 their terrors want dignity, their art'rightments are without de- 
 corum." — C. LajMU. Spec, of Eiuj. Dram. PoHs.
 
 8c. II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 24:1 
 
 llow I have offended. 
 
 Bus. Come, dispatch her. 
 You kept her counsel, now you shall keep ours. 
 
 Cari. I will not die, I must not ; I am contracted 
 Te a young gentleman. 
 
 Execut. Here's your wedding-ring. 
 
 Cari. Let me but speak with the duke ; I'll discover 
 Treason to his pei-son. 
 
 Bos. Delays : — throttle her. 
 
 Execut. She bites 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 ; 
 Let thirt'2 lie still. 
 
 Enter Fkrdinand. 
 
 Ferd. Is she dea<l ? 
 
 Bos. She is what 
 You'd have her. But here begin your pity : 
 
 [,S7/* »'.s' //(/' vliililren strawjled. 
 Alas ! how have these offended ? 
 
 Ferd. 'I'll.- .Iri.th 
 Of young wolves is never to be pitietl. 
 
 Bos. Fix your eye here. 
 
 Ferd. Constantly. 
 
 ' IVlirn, — an cxrlnmation nf impaticncfi addrcswd 1" tlio exe- 
 ciitiomTs. 
 
 ■* i. 0. ilie duchess' biKly.
 
 248 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act iv. 
 
 Bos. Do jou not weep ? 
 Other sins only speak ; murder shrieks out : 
 The element of water moistens the earth, 
 But blood flies upwards and bedews the heavens. 
 
 Ferd. Cover her face ; mine eyes dazzle : she died young. 
 
 Bos. I think not so ; her infelicity 
 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. 
 "VMiy didst not thou pity her? what an excellent 
 Honest man might'st thou have been 
 If thou hadst borne her to some sanctuary ; 
 Or, bold in a good cause, oppos'd thyself. 
 With thy advanced sword above thy head, 
 lietween her innocence and my revenge. 
 I bad thee, when I was distracted of my wits. 
 Go kill my dearest fiiend, and thou hast done't. 
 For let me but examine well the cause : 
 What was the meanness of her match to me? 
 Ordy I must confess I had a hope, 
 Had she continu'd widow, to have gain'd 
 An infinite mass of treasure by her death ; 
 And that was the main cause, her marriage. 
 That drew a stream of gall quite through my heart. 
 For thee, as we observe in tragedies
 
 sc. II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFL 249 
 
 That a good actor many times is curs'd 
 For playing a villain's part, I hate thee for't, 
 ^\jid for ray sake say thou 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 murder. 
 
 Bos. Ha! 
 
 Ferd. Yes, and 'tis 
 The largest bounty T can study to do thee. 
 By what authority didst thou execute 
 This bloody sentence ? 
 
 Bos. By 3'ouis. 
 
 Ferd. Mine! was I lur judire? 
 Did any ceremonial fonn of law. 
 Doom her to not Ix'in;;? <l|i| ;i cniiiiili-lc jury 
 DeliviT hi'i- convictimi iiji i'lli' cdiirt ? 
 Where shah lliuu find this jii(|n|||,.|,t rcirister'd. 
 Unless in hell? See, like a Moody fool, 
 Tli'hast forfeited thy life, and thou shalt die for't. 
 
 Bos. The office of justice; is perverted ([uitc, 
 When one thief hangs anolher. Who shall dare 
 To reveal this ? 
 
 Ferd. O, ni I, .11 tlico; 
 The wolf shall find her grave, and scrape it ii[t, 
 Not to devour the coqtse, hut to discover 
 The horrid murder.
 
 250 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act iv. 
 
 Bos. You, not I, sliall quake for't. 
 
 Ferd. Leave me. 
 
 Bos. I will first receive my pension. 
 
 Ferd. You are a villain. 
 
 Bos. \Mien your ingratitude 
 Is judge, I am so. 
 
 Ferd. horror, 
 That not the fear of him, which binds the devils, 
 Can prescribe man obedience ! 
 Never look u])on me more. 
 
 Bos. Why, fare thee well : 
 Your brother and yom-self are worthy men : 
 You have a pair of hearts are hollow graves. 
 Rotten, and rotting others ; and your vengeance, 
 Like two chain'd bullets, still goes arm in ai'm. 
 You may be brothers ; for treason, like the plague, 
 J)oth 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. 
 
 Bos. Let me know 
 Wherefore I should be thus neglected ? Sir, 
 I scrv'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 !
 
 s.-. n.J THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 251 
 
 While with vain hopes our faculties we tire, 
 
 We seem to sweat in ice and freeze in fire. 
 
 AMiat 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 fi-esh 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. 
 
 Diuh. Antonio I 
 
 Bos. Yes, madam, he is living ; 
 The dead bodies you saw, were but feign'd statues ; 
 He's rcconcil'd to your brothers; the Pope hath wrought 
 The atonement. 
 
 iJiic/i. Mercy! [She dies. 
 
 Bos. O, she's gone again ! there the cords of life broke. 
 O, sacred innocence, that sweetly sleeps 
 ()n turtles' featbers, whilst a guiUy conscience 
 Is a black register, wherein is writ 
 All our good deeds and bad, a perspective 
 That sliews us hell I Tliat we cannot be suffer'd 
 To do good when we bave a mind to it! 
 This is manly sorrow ; 
 These tears, I am very certain, never giew 
 In my mother's milk : my estate is siuik 
 Below the degree of fear : wbere were 
 These penitent fountains, while she was living?
 
 252 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act v. 
 
 O, they were frozen up I Here is a sight 
 
 As direful to my soul, as is the sword 
 
 Unto a wi-etch 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, 
 
 "NMiere somewhat I Mill speedily enact 
 
 Worth my dejection. [Exit. 
 
 ACT v.— Scene I. 
 Enter Antonio and Delio. 
 
 Antonio. 
 
 HAT thinli you of my hope of reconcilement 
 To the Arragonian brethren? 
 Delio. I misdoubt it ; 
 For thougli they have sent their letters of safe conduct 
 For your repair to Milan, they appear 
 But nets to entrap you. The Marquis of Pescai'a, 
 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 dependents 
 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, 
 
 ' i. e. in escheat.
 
 8c. I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFL 253 
 
 Your living. 
 
 Ant. You are still an heretic 
 To any safety I can shape myself. 
 
 Ddio. 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. 
 
 Delia. Sir, I have a suit to you. 
 
 Pes. Tome? 
 
 Delio. An easy one : 
 There is the citadel of St. Bonnet, 
 With some demesnes, of late in the possession 
 Of Antonio Bologna, — please you bestow them on me. 
 
 Pes. You are my friend ; hut this is such a suit, 
 Nor fit for me to give, nor you to take. 
 
 Delio. No, sir? 
 
 Pes. r will give you ample reason for't. 
 Soon in private : here's the cardinal's mistress. 
 
 Enter Julia. 
 
 Julia. My Iftrd, I am grown your poor petitioner, 
 And should In- an ill l»i'i,'-g,n-, li;i 1 I not 
 A great man's letter hen;, the cardinal's, 
 To court you in my favour. 
 
 Pea. Jle entreats for you 
 The citadel of St. Mcnnct, that helong'd 
 To the hanish'd Bologna. 
 
 Julia. Yes. 
 
 Pes. I could not have thought of a friend I could rather
 
 254 THE DUCHESS OF MALFL [act v. 
 
 Pleasure with it : 'tis yours. 
 
 Julia. Sir, I thank you ; 
 And he shall know how doubly I am engag'd 
 Both in your gift, and specdiness of giving, 
 "WTiich makes your grant the greater. \_Extt. 
 
 Ant. How they fortify 
 Themselves with my ruin ! 
 
 Delia. Sir, I am 
 Little bound to you. 
 
 Pes. ^\^ly? 
 
 Delio. Because you denied this suit to mc, 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 
 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 noble giver. 
 
 Delio. You instruct me well. 
 
 Ant. Why, here's a man now, would fright imi>udetice 
 From sauciest beggars. 
 
 Pes. Prince Ferdinand's come to Milan,
 
 sc. I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFL 2o5 
 
 Sick, as thej give out, of an apoplexy ; 
 
 But some say, 'tis a frenzy : I am going 
 
 To \-i.sit him. {Exit. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis a noble old fellow, 
 
 Del'io. "Wliat course do you mean to take, Antonio ? 
 
 Ant. This night I mean to venture all my fortune, 
 Which is no more than a poor lingering life. 
 To the cardinal's worst of malice: I have got 
 Private access to his chamber ; and intend 
 To visit liim about the mid of ni^ht. 
 As once his brother did our noble duchess. 
 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, 
 May draw the poison out of him, uikI work 
 A friendly reconcilement : if it ftiil. 
 Yet it shall rid me of this infamous calling ; 
 For bctt<'r fall once, than be ever falling. 
 
 Delia. I'll second you in all danger, and, howo'er \^ 
 My life keeps rank with yours. 
 
 Ant. You are still my lov'd and best frieiul. [^ExcuhI. 
 
 SC'KNK II. 
 Enter Pescaiia and DocTon. 
 
 Pes. Now, doctor, may I visit your patient ? 
 
 Doc. If't please your lordship : but he's instantly 
 To take thf air here in the gallery 
 By my direction. 
 
 ' Fraught. ' In wlmtover inaniicr.
 
 256 THE DUCHESS OF MALFL [act v. 
 
 Pes. Pray thee, what's his disease ? 
 
 Doc. A very pestilent disease, my lord, 
 They call lycanthi'opia. 
 
 Pes. Wliat's that ? 
 I need a dictionary to't ? 
 
 Doc. I'll tell you. 
 In those that are possess'd wlth't there o'erflows 
 Such melancholy himiour, 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 was hairy on the outside. 
 His on the inside ; bade them take their swords, 
 Kip up his flesh, and try: straight, I was sent for, 
 And having minister'd unto him, found his grace 
 Very well recover'd. 
 Pes. I am glad on't. 
 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, Malateste, Cahdinal, 
 and Bosola. 
 
 Ferd. Leave me.
 
 sc. u.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 257 
 
 J/rt?. ^Miy doth youi" lordsliip love this soUtariuess? 
 
 Ferd. Eagles comnionh- fly alone : they are crows, 
 Daws, and starlings that flock together. Look, 
 ^^^lat's that follows me ? 
 
 Mai, Notliing, my lord. 
 
 Ferd. Yes. 
 
 M'd. 'Tis your shadow. 
 
 Ferd. Stay it ; let it not haunt me. 
 
 M(d. Impossible, if you move, and the sun shine. 
 
 Fn-d. I will thiottle it.^ 
 
 Mai. O, my lord, you are angry witli 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, 
 T mean to carry a bribe ; for, look you. 
 Good gifts evermore make way for the worst persons. 
 
 Pes. llisc, good my lord. 
 
 Ferd. I am studying the art of patience. 
 
 Pes. 'Tis a noble virtue. 
 
 Ferd. To drive six snails before me from this town 
 To Moscow ; neither use goad nor whip to them. 
 But let them take their own time; — (the patient' st man 
 
 i'tli' wdili] 
 Match me for an experiment) — and I'll crawl 
 After like a sbecp-bitcr. 
 
 Card. Force him up. 
 
 Fen/. Use me well, you were bfst. 
 ^^ hat I have done, I have done: III confcsH nothing. 
 
 Doc. Now let me come to liini. — Arc you mad, 
 
 Tlirows himself on tlic ground. — Sitine Ijirtclum, in the 4lii. of 
 1708. 
 
 VOL. II. B
 
 258 THE DUCHESS OF MALFL [act v. 
 
 My lord ? are you out of your princely wits ? 
 Ferd. AMmt's he ? 
 Pes. Your doctor. 
 
 Ferd. Let me have his beard sawed off, 
 And his eye-brows filed more civil. 
 
 Doc. I must do mad tricks with him, for that's the only 
 way on't. — I have brought 
 Your grace a salamander's skin, to keep you 
 From sim-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 fi'om him : physicians are like kings, 
 They brook no contradiction. 
 
 Doc. Now he begins to fear me : 
 Now let me alone with him. 
 
 Card. How now? put oiFyour gown!' 
 Doc. Let nie 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. 
 
 Ferd. Can you fetch your frisks, sir! I will stamp him 
 Into a cullis, 
 
 Flay ofi" his skin, to cover one of the anatomies 
 This rogue hath set i'th' cold yonder 
 In Barber- Chirurgeon's-hall. 
 
 ' Puts off hii four cloaks, one after another. — Stage Direction, Ed. 
 of 1708.
 
 sc. u.] TUE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 259 
 
 Hence, hence ! you are all of you like beasts for sacrifice : 
 There's nothing left of you, but tongue and belly, 
 Flattery and lechery.* [Ej^H. 
 
 Pes. Doctor, he did not fear you throughly. 
 
 Doc. True ; I was somewhat too forward. 
 
 Bos. Mercy upon me, wliat a fiital judgment 
 Hath foll'n upon this Ferdinand ! 
 
 Pes. Knows your gi-ace 
 A\Tiat 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 
 The shape of an old woman, which is given 
 13y tradition to as to have been murder'd 
 I3y her nephews, for her riches. Such a figure 
 One night, as the prince sat up late at's book, 
 Appcar'd to him ; wlicn, cryiiii,'' out fur lnlp. 
 The gentlemiin of's chamber, found his grace 
 All on a cold sweat, alter'd much in face 
 And language : since; which apparition, 
 ]Ie hath gnnvn worse and worse, and I much fear 
 He cannot live. 
 
 Bo.f. Sir, I would speak with you. 
 Pes. We'll leave your grace, 
 Wishing to the sick prince, our noble lord, 
 All health of mind ami body. 
 Card. You are most wclcijine. 
 
 [Exeunt alt Inil Cardinal and Busola. 
 
 ' Throws the Doctor down and beats him. — Staije Direction, Tvl. 
 of 1708. 
 ' (Aside.)
 
 260 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act v. 
 
 Are you come? so. — This fellow must not know 
 
 By any means I had intelligence 
 
 111 our duchess' death ; for though I counsell'd it, 
 
 The full of all th' engagement seem'd to grow 
 
 From Ferdinand. — Now, 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 tiling for me, I'll entreat. 
 
 Though he had a cold tombstone o'er his bones, 
 
 I'd make you what you would be. 
 
 Bos. Anything, 
 Give it me in a breath, and let me fly to't: 
 They that think long, small expedition win, 
 For musing nuich 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 ! 
 
 [El-it. 
 
 Card. 'Tis thus. Antonio lurks here in Milan : 
 Enquire him out, and kill him. M'hile he lives, 
 Our sister cannot marry, and I have thought 
 Of an excellent match for her. Do this, and style me 
 Thy advancement. 
 
 Bos. But by what means shall I find him out ? 
 
 Card. There is a gentleman call'd Delio, 
 Here in the camp, that hath been long approv'd
 
 sc. II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFL 261 
 
 His loyal friend. Set eye upon that fellow ; 
 Follow him to mass ; maybe Antonio, 
 Although he do account religion 
 But a school-name, for foshion of the world 
 May accompany liim ; 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 
 "What fellows haunt the Jews, for taking up 
 Great sums of money, for sure he's in want ; 
 Or else to go to th' pictuic-makors, and learn 
 Who bought iier 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' woild. 
 
 Card. Do, and be ha]>py. [^Exit. 
 
 Bos. This fellow doth breed basilisks in's eyes. 
 He's nothing else but murder ; yet he seems 
 Not to have notice of tin; duchess' death. 
 'Tis his cunning : I must follow his example ; 
 There catmot be a surer way to trace 
 Tliaii that of an old fox. 
 
 Enter Jli.ia. 
 
 Jiiliii. So, sir, you are well met. 
 Bos. How now? 
 
 Julia. Nay, the doors are fast enough : 
 Now, sir, J will make you confess your treachery. 
 Bos. Treachery I 
 
 ' Perchance.
 
 262 THE DUCHESS OF MALFL [act v. 
 
 Julia. Yes, confess to me 
 WTiich of my women 'twas you hired to put 
 Love-powder into my drink ? 
 
 Bos. Love-powder ! 
 
 Julia. Yes, when I was at INfalfi. 
 Why should I fall in love with such a face else ? 
 I have already suffer'd for thee so much pain, 
 The only remedy to do me good. 
 Is to kill my longing. 
 
 Bos. Sure your pistol holds 
 Nothing hut perfumes, or kissing-comfits. Excellent lady ! 
 You have a pretty way on't to discover 
 Your longing. Come, come, I'll disaim 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
 
 sc. II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFL 263 
 
 Carry a quiver of darts in tliom, sharper 
 Than sun-beams. 
 
 Julia. You will mar me with 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 fLiniiliar : 
 If the great cardinal should see me thus, 
 ^^'ou]d he not count me a villain ? 
 
 Julia. No, he might count mc a wanton. 
 Not lay a scruple of oifence 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. 1 lad you been i'th' 
 
 street, 
 L'nder my clinniber window, even there 
 I sliould linve coiu-ted you. 
 
 Bon. (), yon are an excclli nl lady! 
 
 Julia. 151(1 mc do somewhat lor you jiresently, 
 To express I love y(ju. 
 
 Bos. 1 will, and if you love me, 
 Fail not to effect it. Tin; caKlinal is grown wondrous nio- 
 
 lanclioly : 
 Demand tin- cause, let hini not jmt you oil' 
 With feign'd excuse ; discover the main ground on't. 
 
 Julia. Wliy would you know thi.s? 
 
 Bos. I have depended on liim,
 
 2G4 THE DUCHESS OF MALFL [act v. 
 
 .Vnd I hear that he is fall'ii in some disgrace 
 With the emjx'ior ; if he be, like tlie mice 
 That forsake falling houses, I would shift 
 To other dcpcndance. 
 
 Julia. You shall not need follow the wars : 
 I'll be your maintenance. 
 
 Bos. And 1 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 ; \ have my pardon promis'd. 
 But I would see it seal'd. Go, got you in : 
 You shall see me wind my tongue about his heart. 
 Like a skein of silk. [^Exit Bosola. 
 
 Enter Cardinal and Servants. 
 
 Card. "VMiere are you ? 
 
 Serv. Here. 
 
 Card. Let none, upon your lives 
 Have conference with the piince Ferdinand, 
 Unless I know it : — [Exeunt Servants.^ 
 
 ' All exeunt supplied by Mr. Dyce.
 
 sc. n.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFT. 2Qo 
 
 In this distraction, he may reveal the mui'tler. 
 Yond's my lingering coiisumption : 
 T am weary of lier, and by any means 
 AN'ould be quit of. 
 
 JaJia. IIow 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. I may not tell you. 
 
 Julia. Are you so far iti 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 youi' tongue ? 
 
 Card. Satisfy thy longing ; 
 The only way to make thee keep my counsel 
 Is, not to tell thee. 
 
 ./ulid. Tell your echo this, 
 ( )r flatterers, that like eclioes still report 
 NVIint they hear though most iinpeifect, and not me ; 
 For, if that you be true unto yourself, 
 I'll know. 
 
 Curd, ^\'ill you rack me? 
 
 Julia. No, judgment shidl 
 I)raw it from you: it is an equul fault. 
 To tell one's secret^ unto all or none. 
 
 Card. The first argues folly. 
 
 Julia. But the last tyranny.
 
 26G THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act v. 
 
 Card. Very well ; why, imagine I have committed 
 Some secret deed, which I desire the world 
 May never hear of. 
 
 Julia. Therefore may 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 adamant 
 To contain them. I pray thee yet be satisfied ; 
 Examine thine own frailty ; 'tis more easy 
 To tie knots, than unloose them : 'tis a secret 
 That, like 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 groat Duchess of Malfi, 
 And two of her young children, four nights since, 
 Were strangl'd. 
 
 Julia. O heaven ! sir, what have you done? 
 
 Card. 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. AMiy? 
 
 Julia. It lies not in me to conceal it.
 
 sc. II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 267 
 
 Card. Xo I Come, I will swear you to't upon this 
 book. 
 
 Julia. Most religiously. 
 
 Card. Kiss it. 
 Now you sliall never utter it ; thy curiosity 
 Hath undone thee : thou art poison'd with that book ; 
 Because I knew thou couldst not keep my counsel, 
 I have bound thee to't by death. 
 
 Enter Bosola. 
 
 Bo.<i. For pity sake, hold. 
 
 Card. Ha, Bosola I 
 
 Julia. I forgive you 
 This equal piece of justice you have done ; 
 For I betray'd your counsel to that fellow : 
 lie overheard it; that was the cause I said 
 It lay not in mo to conceal it. 
 
 Bos, (), foohsh woman, 
 Couldst not thou have poison'd him ? 
 
 Julia. 'Tis weakness, 
 Too much to think what should have been done. 
 I go, I know not whither. [^Dies. 
 
 Card. Wlicrefore com'st thou hither? 
 
 Bos. That T miglit find a great man, like yourself, 
 Not out of his wits, as the Loid Fcnhnand, 
 To ren)omber my seivicc. 
 
 Card. I'll have thee hew'd in pieces. 
 
 Bos. Make not yourself siidi u piomisc of that life, 
 Which is not yours to dispose of. 
 
 Card. Who ]>lac'd thee hero ? 
 
 Bos. Iler lust, as she intended.
 
 208 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act v. 
 
 Card. Yevy well : now jou know me 
 For your fellow-nmrderer. 
 
 Bos. And wlierefore should you lay fair marble colours 
 Upon your rotten pui-poses to me ? 
 Unless you imitate some that do plot great treasons, 
 And wlien they have done, go hide themselves i'th' graves 
 Of those were actors in't ? 
 
 Card. No more ; 
 There is a fortune attends thee. 
 
 Bos. Shall I go sue to fortune any longer ? 
 'Tis the fool's pilgrimage. 
 
 Card. I have honours in store for thee. 
 
 Bos. Tlaere are a many ways that conduct to seeming 
 Honour, and some of them very dirty ones. 
 
 Card. Throw to the devil 
 Thy melancholy. The fire burns well ; 
 ^\^hat need we keep a stirring oft, and make 
 A greater smother ? thou wilt kill Antonio ? 
 
 Bos. Yes. 
 
 Card. Take up that body. 
 
 Bos. I think I shall 
 Slioitly grow the common bior for church-yards. 
 
 Card. I will allow thee some dozen of attendants. 
 To aid thee in the muider. 
 
 Bos. O, by no means. 
 Physicians that apply horseleeches to any rank swelling, 
 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, 
 Ijest it make me have a greater when I ride to the gal- 
 lows.
 
 sc. n.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 209 
 
 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. 
 
 Bos, ^Miere's Castniccio, her husband ? 
 
 Card. He's rode to Naples, to take possession 
 Of Antonio's citadel. 
 
 Bos. Believe me, you have done a very happy tm'n. 
 
 Card. Fail not to come : there is the master-key 
 Of our lodgings; and by that you may conceive 
 What trust I plant in you. 
 
 Bos. You shall find me ready. [Exit Cardinal . 
 
 O, poor Antonio, though nothing be so neediul 
 To thy estate, as pity, yet I find 
 Nothing so dangerous I I must look to my footing : 
 In such slippery ice-pavements, men had need 
 To be fi-ost-nail'd well, they may break their necks else ; 
 The precedent's here afore me. How this man 
 Hears up in blooil ! seems fearless ! why. 'tis well : 
 Security some men call the suburbs of bell, 
 C)nly a dead wall between. Well, good Antonio, 
 I'll seek thee out ; and all my care shall he 
 To put thee into safety from the reach 
 f )f these most cruel biters, that have got 
 Some of thy blood already. It may be, 
 I'll join with thee, in a most just n-VM-nge: 
 The weakest, ann is strong enou^rli, that strikes 
 With tlu! sword of justice. Still niethinks the duchess 
 Haunts me: there, there I — 'tis nothing but my melancholy. 
 O Penitence, let me truly taste thy cup, 
 That throws men down, only to raise them uj) I [E.cit.
 
 270 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act v. 
 
 SCENE ITT. 
 
 Enter Antonio and Delio. 
 
 Delio. Yond's the cardinal's window. This fortification 
 Grew fi'om 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 
 Oiu- foot upon some reverend history : 
 And, questionless, here in this open court, 
 "Wliich now lies naked to the injuries 
 Of stormy weather, some men lie interr'd 
 Lov'd the church so well, and gave so largely to't, 
 They thought it should have canopied their bones 
 Till doom's-day ; but all things have their end : 
 Chui'ches and cities, which have diseases like to men. 
 Must have like death that we have. 
 
 Eclio (from the Duchess' r/rave). 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.
 
 sc. ra.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 271 
 
 DeUo. 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 tliinri ofsorroio. 
 
 Ant. Ay sure, that suits it best. 
 
 Echo. That suits it best. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis very like my wife's voice. 
 
 Echo. Ai/, 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. 
 
 Eho. Do not. 
 
 Dciio. \\'isdom dotli not moi-e nioflorato wasting sorrow, 
 Than time : take time for't ; bo mindful of thy safety. 
 
 Echo. Be minflful of thy safety. 
 
 Ant. Necessity compels me : 
 Make scrutiny throughout the passes 
 Of your own life, you'll find it impossible 
 To fly your fate. 
 
 Echo. OJly your fate! 
 
 Delio. Hark I the dead .stones seem to have pity or) you, 
 And give you good counsel. 
 
 Ant. Edio, I will (Kit t;ilk with thee, 
 For thou art a dead tliintr. 
 
 Echo. Thou art a dead thiny. 
 
 Ant. My duchess is a-sleep now, 
 And her little ones, I hope sweetly: O heaven, 
 iShall I never see her mori- ? 
 
 Echo. Never see her more. 
 
 Ant. I mark'd not one repetition of tin- ccbo 
 But that ; and on the sudden, a clear light
 
 272 THE DUCHESS OF MALFL [act v. 
 
 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 mocker}' 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 ; 
 Contempt of pain, that we may call our own. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 Enter Carbinax, Pescaha, Malateste, 
 
 RODEBIGO, GrISOLAN. 
 
 Card. You shall not watch to-night by the sick prince ; 
 His grace is very well recover'd. 
 
 Mai. Good, my lord, suffer us. 
 
 Card. O, by no means : 
 The noise and change of object in his eye 
 Doth more distract him : I pray, all to bed ; 
 And though you hear him in his violent fit. 
 Do not rise, I entreat you. 
 
 Pes. So, sir ; we shall not.
 
 6c. IV.] THE DUCHESS OF M^iLFI. 273 
 
 Card. Xay, I must have you promise 
 Upon your honours, for I was enjoiu'd to't 
 By liimself ; and he seem'd to urge it sensibly. 
 
 Pes. Let om- honours bind this trifle. 
 
 Card. Nor any of your followers. 
 
 Mai. Neither. 
 
 Card. It may be, to make trial of your promise, 
 WTien he's asleep, myself will rise and feign 
 Some of his mad tricks, and cry out for help, 
 And feign myself in danger. 
 
 Mai. If youi- tluoat were cutting, 
 I'd not come at you, now I have protested against it. 
 
 Card. Vs\\)-, I thank you. 
 
 Grls. 'Twas a foul storm to-night. 
 
 Rod. The Lord Ferdinand's chamber shook like an osier. 
 
 Mai. 'Twas nothing but pure kindness in the devil. 
 
 To rock his own child. [^Exeunt all hut the Cardinal. 
 
 Card. The reason why I would not suffer these 
 Aljout my brother, is, because at midnight 
 I may with better privacy convey 
 Julia's body to her own lodging. O, my conscience! 
 I wouM pray now ; but the devil takes away my heart 
 For having any cotifidence in prayer. 
 About this hour I ajipoiiited JJosola 
 To fetch tlie body: when he hath served my turn. 
 lie dies. [Exit. 
 
 Entrr Bosor.A. 
 
 Bos. Ila ! 'twas the cardinal's voice ; T heard him name 
 Bosola, and my death: hstcn, I hear ouc'a footing. 
 
 VOL. II. T
 
 274 THE DUCHESS OF MALFL [act v. 
 
 Enter Peedinand. 
 
 Ferd. Stmngling is a very quiet death. 
 Bos. Nay then, I see I must stand upon my guard. 
 Ferd. What say 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. 
 
 lExit. 
 Bos. My death is plotted; here's the consequence of 
 murder. 
 We value not desert nor Christian breath, 
 When we know black deeds must be cur'd with death. 
 
 Enter Servant and Antonio. 
 
 Serv. Here stay, sir, and be confident, I pray : 
 I'll fetch you a dark lantern. [jEocit. 
 
 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. O, I am gone ! Thou hast ended a long suit 
 In a minute. 
 
 Bos. What art thou ? 
 
 Ant. A most wretched thing, 
 That only have the benefit in death, 
 To appear myself. 
 
 E}xter Servant wWi a light. 
 Serv. WTiere are you, sir? 
 
 * Stabs Antonio, supposing him to be the Cardinal.
 
 Rc. IV.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFL 2 to 
 
 Ant. Very near my home. — Bosola ! 
 
 Serv. O, misfortune ! 
 
 Bos. Smother thy pity, thou ait dead else. — Antonio ! 
 The man I would have sav'd 'hove mine own life ! 
 We are merely the stars' tennis-balls, struck and banded 
 Wliich way please them, O good Antonio, 
 I'll whisper one thing in thy dying ear. 
 Shall make thy heart break quickly ! thy fair duchess 
 And two sweet children 
 
 Ant. Their very names 
 Kindle a little life in me. 
 
 Bos. Are murdcr'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 balniM nor hoalM, 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 life, what is't ? only the good hours 
 Of an ague ; merely a preparative to rest. 
 To endure vexation. I do not a.sk 
 The proccs.s of my death ; only conmiend mo 
 To Dclio. 
 
 Bos. J'rcak, heart ! 
 
 Ant. And let my son fly the courts of princes. [Dies. 
 
 Bos. Thou seem'st to liavc lov'd Antonio? 
 
 Serv. I brought him liilher. 
 To have reconcil'd him to the Cardiiuil. 
 
 Bos. I di» not ask thcc that : 
 Take him up, if thou tender thy own life,
 
 276 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act v. 
 
 xVnd bear liim where tlic lady Julia 
 
 Was wont to lodge. — O my fate moves swift ! 
 
 I have this cardinal in the forge already, 
 
 Now I'll bring him to th' hammer. O direful misprision !^ 
 
 I will not imitate things glorious, 
 
 Iso 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 booh. 
 
 Card. I am puzzled in a question about hell : 
 He says, in hell there's one material fii-e, 
 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 my 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 the Servant. 
 
 Bos. Thus it lightens into action : 
 I am come to kill thee. 
 
 Card. Ha ! help ! our guard ! 
 
 ' Mistake, from the French m£prise. 
 
 * Be as silent as the dead body thou bearest.
 
 sc. v.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 277 
 
 Bos. Thou art deceiv'd ; 
 They are out of thy howling. 
 
 Card. Hold ; and I will faithfully divide 
 Revenues with thee. 
 
 Bos. Thy prayers and proffers 
 Are hoth unseasonable. 
 
 Card. Eaise the watch ! we are Letray'd. 
 
 Bos. I have confin'd your flight : 
 I'll suffer your retreat to Julia's chamber, 
 13ut no further. 
 
 Card. Help I we are betray 'd. 
 
 Enter Malatkstk, Pescara, Roderigo, 
 and Grisolan, above} 
 
 Mai. Listen. 
 
 Card. My dukedom for rescue ! 
 
 Rod. Via upon his counteifeiting. 
 
 Mid. Why, 'tis not the Cardinal. 
 
 Itod. ^'es, yes, 'tis he : 
 But I'll see him hang'd en" I'll go down to liim. 
 
 Card. Here's a jilot upon nir; I am assaulted! I am lost 
 L^dess some rescue ! 
 
 Oris. Jle doth this pretty w( II ; 
 Hut it will not serve to laugh wn' out of niiuu hunuur. 
 
 Card. The sword's at my tliioat ! 
 
 liod. You woulfl not bawl so loud iIkii. 
 
 Mai. Come, come, let's go to bed: he told us thus much 
 aforehand. 
 
 ' Ahnve, i. e. on tlif; upper stage; the raised platform towards 
 tliu back of the stage. — JJvcii.
 
 278 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act v. 
 
 Pes. He wish'd you should not come at him ; but 
 beheve't, 
 The accent of the voice sounds not in jest : 
 I'll down to him, howsoever, and with engines 
 Force ope the doors. \_Exit. 
 
 Rod. Let's follow him aloof, 
 And note how the Cardinal will laugh at him. 
 
 \_Exeunt, above, Malateste, Eoderigo, and 
 Grisolan. 
 
 Bos. There's for you first, 
 'Cause you shall not unbarricade the door 
 To let in rescue. [^He kills the Servant. 
 
 Card. ^Vhat cause hast thou to pm-sue my life ? 
 
 Bos. Look there. 
 
 Card. Antonio ! 
 
 Bos. Slain by my hand unwittingly : 
 Pray, and be sudden : when thou kill'd'st thy sister, 
 Thou took'st fi'om 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. 
 
 \_Stahs him. 
 
 Card. Thou hast hurt me. 
 
 Bos. Again. 
 
 Ca)'d. Shall I die like a leveret, 
 Without any resistance ? Help, help, help ! 
 I am slain.
 
 8c. v.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFL 279 
 
 Enter Ferdinand. 
 
 Ferd. Tli' alanim ! give me a fresh horse ; 
 Rally the vaunt -guard,* or the day is lost. 
 Yield, ^-ield : I give you the honours of arms, 
 Shake my sword over you ; will you yield ? 
 
 Card. Help me, I am your hrother ! 
 
 Ferd. The devil ! my hrother fight upon the adverse 
 party ! \^He wounds the Cardinal, and (in the scuffle) 
 gives Bosola his death wound. 
 There flics your ransom. 
 
 Card. O justice ! 
 I suffer now for what hath former hin :^ 
 iSoiTow i.s held the eldest child of sin. 
 
 Ferd. Now you're hrave fellows. 
 Caesar's fortune was harder than Pompey's ; 
 Cscsar died in the anns of prosperity, 
 Pompey at the feet of disgrace. 
 Vou hoth died in the field. 
 
 Tin; pain's nofhing: pain many times is taken away with 
 Tiie uj)|)rehcnsion of greater, as the tootli-ache willi the 
 
 sight 
 Of a barhcr that comos to pull it out: there's philosophy 
 for you. 
 
 lios. Now my revenge is peifect. Sink, thou main cause 
 
 \IIe stabs Ferdinand. 
 Of my undoing. The last part of my life 
 Ilatli (li)ni' me best service. 
 
 ' Thf viinr^uard. 
 
 ' So iu lliu originul, and retained for the sake of tlio rhymo.
 
 280 THE DUCHESS OF MALFL [act v. 
 
 Ferd. Give me some wet hay, I am brokoii-wincled. 
 I do account this worhl but a dog-kennel : 
 I will vault credit and affect high pleasm-es, 
 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. 
 "V^Tiether 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 soiU in my teeth ; 
 'Tis ready to part from me. I do glory 
 That thou, which stood'st like a huge pyramid 
 Begun upon a large and ample base, 
 Shalt end in a little point, a kind of nothing. 
 
 Enter Pescara and the others. 
 
 Pes. How now, my lord ! 
 
 Mai. O, sad disaster ! 
 
 Rod. How comes this ? 
 
 Bos. Kevenge for the Duchess of Malfi, murder'd 
 By the Arragonian brethren ; for Antonio, 
 Slain by this 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. 
 
 Pes. How now, my lord ! 
 
 Card. Look to my brother : 
 He gave us these large wounds, as we were struggling
 
 .sc. v.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 281 
 
 Here i'th' rushes.^ And now, I pray, let me 
 
 Be laid by and never thought of. [Dies. 
 
 Pes. How fatally, it seems, he did withstand 
 His own rescue ! 
 
 Mai. Thou wi-etched thing of blood, 
 How came Antonio by his death ? 
 
 Bos. In a mist : I know not how : 
 Such a mistake as I have often seen 
 In a play. 0, I am gone ! 
 We are only like dead walls, or vaulted graves, 
 That ruin'd, yield no oclio. Fare you well. 
 It may be pain, but no harm to nie to die, 
 In 80 good a quarrel. O, this gloomy world ! 
 In what a shadow, or deep pit of darkness. 
 Doth womanish and ft-aiful niankind live ! 
 Ix't wdithy minds ne'ci- stagger in distrust 
 To sufTur death or shame for what is just: 
 Mine is another voyage. [Dies. 
 
 Pi's. The noble Dclio, as I came to tb' palace, 
 Told me of Antonio's being here, and shew'd me 
 A pretty gentleman, his son and heir. 
 
 Enter Dklio, nnd Antonio's Son. 
 
 Mdl. () sir, you conn- too late ! 
 
 hilin. I heard so, and 
 Was arm'd for't, ere I came. Let us make noble use 
 Of this great ruin ; ami join all (inr force 
 To establish this young lioi»eful gentleman 
 
 ' i. c. on the ruslios that then covered the floor, in Heu of a 
 carpet.
 
 282 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act v, 
 
 In's mother's right. These wi-etched eminent things 
 
 Leave no more fame heliind 'em, than should one 
 
 Fall in a fi-ost, 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 notliing 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. n. 
 
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