FRANCISCO

Have you not seen your husband since you arrived? Surely he is wondrous kind, If I had a such Dovehouse as Camillo's I would set fire on't, were't but to destroy The Polecats that haunt to't,—my sweet cossin. That I did my pretty cossin, Marcello see it fitted. Sister away you must not yet be seen. I wish it may. Be gone. Void the chamber, You are welcome, will you fit, I pray my Lord Be you my Orator, my hearts too full, I'll second you anon. Do not fear it: I'll answer you in your own hawking phrase, Some Eagles that should gaze upon the Sun Seldom soar high, but take their lustful ease, Since they from dunghill birds their pery can cease, You know Vittoria, You shift your shirt there When you retire from Tennis. Her husband is Lord of a poor fortune Yet she wears cloth of Tissue, She is your Strumpet, Let's not talk on thunder, Thou hast a wife, our sister, would I had given Both her whitehands to death, bound and locked fast In her last winding shear, when I gave thee But one. True, Thy ghostly father with al's absolution, Shall never do so by thee. I shall not needs, lust carries her sharp whip At her own girdle, look to't for our anger Is making thunderbolts. We'll end this with the Cannon. Better that Then change perfumes for plasters, Willingly. What practising your pike so young, fair cous. Yes cousin a young Prince Of good discretion might. Pretty cousin, Would, without their ransom, How then will you reward your soldiers That took those prisoners for you. Why then the next year following You'll have no men to go with you to war. See a good habit makes a child a man, Whereas a bade one makes a man a beast: Come you and I are friends. Call Camillo hither You have received the rumor, how Count Lodowick Is turned a Pyrate. Sister, this is not well my Lord, why sister, She merits not this welcome. Are you foolish? Come dry your tears, is this a modest course. To better what is nought, to rail and weep, Grow to a reconcilement, or by heaven, I'll never more deal between you. Was your husband loud. Since we departed. What? turned fury? Now by my birth you are a foolish, mad, And jealous woman. Was this your circle of pure Unicorns horn, You said should charm your Lord; now horns upon thee, For jealousy deserves them, keep your vow, And take your chamber. To see her come, To my Lord Cardinal for a dispensation Of her rash vow will beget excellent laughter. Where's the commission? Give me the Signet. Have you any children. And old tale. Upon a time Phœbus 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 their straight arose Amongst Smiths, & Feltmakers, Brewers & Cooks. Reapers and Butter-women, amongst Fishmongers And thousand other trades, which are annoyed By his excessive heat; it lamentable. They came to Jupiter all in a sweat And do forbid the banes; a great fat Cook Was made their Speaker, who intreats of Jove That Phœbus might be gelded, for if now When there was but one, Sun so many men, Wear Like to perish by his violent heat. What should they do if he were married And should be get more, and those children Make fireworks Like their father, so say I, Only I will apply it to your wife, Her issue should not providence prevent it Would make both nature, time, and man repent it. Farewell good Marcello. All the best Fortune's of a Soldiers wish, Bring you a shipboard. Is't true? Oh 'twas well. We shall not want his absence passed six days, I feign would have the Duke Brachiano run Into notorious scandal, for their's nought In such cursed dotage, to repair his name, Only the deep sense of some deathless shame: There's small pity in't Like mistle-tow on sear Elms spent by weather, Let him cleave to her and both rot together. You have dealt discreetly to obtain the presence, Of all the graven Leiger Ambassadors To hear Vittorias trial. A Chair there for his Lordship. A Lawyer, that pleads against you. Why you understand Latin. Signior. You needs not stand on't much; pray change your language, Sir your pains Shall be well spared, and your deep eloquence Be worthily applauded amongst those Which understand you. Sir, Put up your papers in your fustian bag, Cry mercy Sir, 'tis buckram, and accept My notion of your learned verbosity. Your unhappy husband Is dead. And by a vaulting engine. what a prodigy wast, That from some two yards height a slender man (more, Should break his neck? You must have patience. No cose; they sleep. When God shall please. Good God let her sleep ever. Thou didst love her. Oh, all of my poor sister that remains! Take him away for Gods sake. Believe me I am nothing but her graven, And I shall keep her blessed memory, Longer then thousand Epitaphs. Pray let's see it. I do assure your Lordship, You are a worthy member of the State, And have done infinite good in your discovery Of these offenders. Where's Count Lodowick? I'll lay a thousand Ducats you here news Of a Pope presently, Hark; sure he's elected, Behold! my Lord of Arragon appears, On the Church battlements. Well: what of her? Let the Matrona of the Convertites Be apprehended: fled o damnable! How fortunate are my wishes. Why? 'twas this I only laboured. I did send the letter Instruct him what to do. Thy fame, found Duke, I first have poisoned; directed thee the way To marry a whore; what can be worse? This follows The hand must act to drown the passionate tongue, I scorn to wear a sword and prate of wrong. Come deer Lodovico. You have taken the sacrament to prosecute the intended murder. 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, partly of the glory may be mine. Why did the Duke of Florence with such care Labour your pardon? say. I shall persuade them To stay, my Lord. Set on there to the presence There's no way More speeding than this thought on. And yet me thinks that this revenge is poor, Because it steals upon him Like a thief, To have taken him by the Cask in a pitched field, Led him to Florence! T'is a ridiculous thing for a man to be his own Chronicle, I did never wash my mouth with mine own praise for fear of getting a stinking breath. I shall never flatter him, I have studied man to much to do that: What difference is between the Duke and I? no more than between two bricks; all made of one clay. Onely't may be one is placed on the top of a turret; the other in the bottom of a well by mere chance; if I were placed as high as the Duke, I should stick as fast; make as fair a show; and bear out weather equally. How have you thrived? That's the misery of peace. Only outsides are then respected: As ships seem very great upon the river, which show very little upon the Seas: So some men i'th Court seem Colossusses in a chamber, who if they came into the field would appear pitiful. Pigmies. 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 pardoned murder. What didst thou think of him; in-faith speak freely. Oh, speak well of the Duke. How is it with the Duke? See here he comes. There's death in's face already. I met even now with the most piteous sighed. Your reverend mother Is grown a very old woman in two hours. I found them winding of Marcello's coarse; And there is such a solemn melody Between doleful songs, tears, and sad elegies: Such, as old grandames, watching by the dead, Were wont t'out-weare the nights with; that believe me I had no eyes to guide me forth the room, They were so over-charged with water. 'Twere much vncharety in you: for your sighed Will add unto their tears. Lady, who's this? 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. What, what, We are now preparing, Some ships to fetch him in: behold your Duchess, We now will leave you and expect from you Nothing but kind entreaty. Do you hear Look upon other women, with what patience They suffer these slight wrongs, with what justice They study to requite them, take that course. How? never more lie with him, You are the happier I'll tell you a tale. So, 'twas well fitted, now shall we discern, How his wished absence will give violent way, To Duke Brachiano's lust, Come to observe this Stru ̄ per. Oh fie 'twere impudence too pal- And what's. Upon the instant lose all use of speech, All vital motion, Like a man had lain Wound up three days. Now mark each circumstance. My Lord there's great suspicion of the murder, But no found proof who did it: for my partly I do not think she hath a soul so black To act a deed so bloody, if she have, As in cold countries husbandmen plant Vines, And with warm blood manure them, even so One summer she will bear unsavoury fruit, And ere next spring wither both branch and root. The act of blood let pass, only descend, To matter of incontinence. Who brought this letter? I stand for Marcello. Sir, what's the matter? How strange these words found? what's the interpretatio ̄ ? How now my Noble cossin, what in black? How? Where? Is dead. Dead? Far be it from my thoughts To seek revenge. Shall I defy him, and impose a war Most burdensome on my poor subjects necks, Which at my will I have not power to end? You know; for all the murders, rapes, and thefts, Committed in the horred lust of war, He that unjustly caused it first proceed, Shall find it in his graven and in his seed. Free me my innocence; from ̄ treacherous acts: I know ther's thunder yonder: and I'll stand, Like a safe valley, which low bends the knee To some aspiring mountain: since I know Treason, Like spiders weaving nets for flies, By her foul work is found, and in it die. To pass away these thoughts, my honoured Lord, It is reported you possess a book Wherein you have quoted, by intelligence, The names of all notorious offenders Lurking about the City, Monticelso, I will not trust thee, but in all my plots I'll rest as jealous as a Town besieged. Thou canst not reach what I intend to act. Your flax soon kindles, soon is out again, But gold slow heat's, and long will hight remain. First your Intelligencers pray let's see. Are there such? Murderers. Fouled down the leaf I pray, Good my Lord let me borrow this strange doctrine. Oh God! Better then tribute of wolves paid in England. It'll hang their skins o'th hedge. Dearly sir, I thank you, If any ask for me at Court, report You have left me in the company of knaves. I gather now by this, some cunning fellow That's my Lords Officer, one that lately skipped From a Clerks desk up to a Justice chair, Hath made this knavish summons; and intends, As Irish rebels wont were to fell heads, So to make prize of these. And thus it happens, Your poor rogues pay for't, which have not the means To present bribe in fist: the rest o'th'band Are razed 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 villainy. Did I want Ten leash of Courtesans, it would furnish me; Nay laundress three Armies. That so in little paper Should lie undoing of so many men! It's not so big as twenty declarations. See the corrupted use some make of books: Divinity, wrested by some factious blood, Draws swords, swelsbattels, & overthrows all good. To fashion my revenge more seriously, Let me remember my dead sisters face: Call for her picture: no; I'll close mine eyes, And in a melancholic thought I'll frame Her figure before me. Now I—ha'te how strong Imagination works! how she can frame Things which are not! me thinks 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. It's my melancholy, How camest thou by thy death?—how idle am I To question mine own idleness?—did ever Man dream awake till now?—remove this object Out of my brain with't: what have I to do With tombs, or deathbeds, funerals, or tears, That have to meditate upon revenge? So now it's ended, Like and old wives story. Statesmen think often they see stranger sights Then madmen, Come, to this weighty business. My Tragedy must have some idle mirth in't, Else it will never pass. I am in love, In love with Corombona; and my suit Thus haltes to her in verse.— I have done it rarely: o the fate of Princes! I am so used to frequent flattery, That being alone I now flatter my self; But it will serve, it's sealed; bear this To th'house of Convertites; and watch your leisure To give it to the hands of Corombona, Or to the Matron, when some followers Of Brachiano may be by. Away He that deals all by strength, his wit is shallow: When a men head goes through each limb will follow. The engine for my business, bold Count Lodowick: It's gold must such and instrument procure, With empty fist no man does falcons lure. Brachiano, I am now fit for thy encounter. Like the wild Irish I'll never think thee dead, Till I can play at football with thy head. Flectere sinequeo Superes, Acher nta movebo. So, my Lord, I commend your diligence Guard well the conclave, and, as the order is, Let none have conference with the Cardinals. It's o'th point of dinnertime, Marshal the Cardinals service, Would? Fled? Where's the Prince Do you know that Count? Bear him these thousand Duck S to his lodging; Tell him the Pope hath sent them. Happily That will confirm more then all the rest. It's better ordered. And thou mayest do, the devil knows what villainy. Right; you shall see in the Country in harvest time, pigeons, though they destroy never so much corn, the farmer dare not present the fowling piece to them! why? because they belong to the Lord of the Manor; whilst your poor sparrow was that belong to the Lord of heaven, they go to the pot for't. Sir be of comforts There's great moan made for him. How mean you? Come you have thrived well under him. How? Yes, and for fashion sake I'll dream with her. Wilt thou believe me sweating; by this light I was a dreamt on thee too: for me thought I saw thee naked So drempt I; And least thou shouldst take cold, I covered thee With this Irish mantle. Nay: you must hear my dream out. When I threw the mantle over thee, thou didst laugh Exceedingly me thought. Most strange! Thou kepts their counsel, Oh noble wench! It shall, away And hour before day. Oh strange discovery! why till now we knew not The circumstance of either of their death's. There. Tush for justice. What harms it Justice? we now, Like the partridge Purge the disease with laurel: for the fame Shall crown the enterprise and quit the shame. Excellent Lodovico! What? did you terrify him at the last gasp? I would have you look up, Sir; these Court tears Claim not your tribute to them. Let those weep That guiltily partake in the sad cause. I knew last night by a sad dream I had Some mischief would ensue; yet to say truth My dream most concerned you. Me thought sir, you came stealing to my bed. Fie sir! as I told you, Me thought you lay down by me. Verily I did dream, You were some what bold with me; but to come to't. There was a dream indeed. Come, sir; good fortune tends you; I did tell you I would reveal a secret, Isabella The Duke of Florence sister was empoisoned, By a 'fum'd picture: and Camillo's neck Was broke by damned Flamineo; the mischance Laid on a vaulting horse. Most true. I sadly do confess I had a hand In the black deed. Right, For which, urged with contrition, I intend This night to rob Vittoria. 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 And hundred thousand crowns. It is a dowry, Me thinks, should make that sunburnt proverb false, And wash the Ethiop white. Be ready for our flight. You'll weight about midnight In the Chapel. Look you; who are yonder. Her Ladyships foolish. It's Flamineo. Well, sir, forth. Laugh?