LODOVICO

B Anisht? Would, Would, o Democritus thy Gods That govern the whole world! Courtly re ward, and punishment. Fortune's a right whore. If she give ought, she deals it in small percels, That she may take away all at one swope. This 'tis to have great enemies, God quite them: Your wolf no longer seems to be a wolf Then when she's hungry. Very good, This Well goes with two buckets, I must tend The powering out of eather. I am patient, I have seen some ready to be executed Give pleasant looks, and money, and grown familiar With the knave hangman, so do I, I thank them, And would account them nobly merciful Would they dispatch me quickly, O I pray for them. The violent thunder is adored by those Are pashed in pieces by it. Las they were flea-bytinges? Why took they not my head then? So, but I wonder then some great men This banishment, ther's Paulo Giordano Or , The Duke of Brachiano, now lives in Room, And by close pandarism seeks to prostitute The honour of Vittoria Corombona, Vittoria, she that might have God my pardon For one kiss to the Duke. Leave your painted comforts, I'll make Italian cut-works in their guts If ever I return. I am ever bound to you: This is the world's alms; pray make use of it, Great men fell sheep, thus to be cut in pieces, When first they have shorn them bore and sold their sleeces. She's dead my Lord. This was Brachiano's Pandar, and it's strange That in such open and apparent gilded Of his adulterous sister, he dare utter So scandalous a passion. I must wind him. I do thank thee And I do wish ingeniously for thy sake The dogdays all year long. Dead Shalt thou & I join housekeeping? Fit some three days together, and discourse. With faggots for our pillows. In taffeta linings; that's gentile melancholy, Sleep all day. What a strange creature is a laughing fool, As if man were created to no use But only to show his teeth. Precious gue. Weel never partly. I thank you for your news. Look up again Flamineo, see my pardon. Why? Your sister is a damnable whore. Look you; I spoke that laughing. Yes; Would, would? What? I long for it. Unhand me: That ere I should be forced to right my self, Upon a Pandar. H'had be as good met with his fist a thunderbolt. God-save death, how did my sword miss him? These rogues that are most weary of their lives, Still escape the greatest dangers, A pox upon him: all his reputation; Nay all the goodness of his family; Is not worth half this earthquake. I learned it of no fencer to shake thus; Come, I'll forget him, and go drink some wine. I shall, my Lord: room for the Ambassadors, Here my Lord. Sir I shall. Stand, let me search your dish, who's this for? Whose this? You that attend on the Lord Cardinals Open the window, and receive their viands. Away, away. With all constancy. But, Sir, I wonder you'll engage your self, In person, being a great Prince. Italian beggars will resolve you that Who, begging of and alms, bid those they beg of Do good for their own sakes; or't may be He spreads his bounty with a sowing hand, Like Kings, who many times give out of measure; Not for desert so much as for their pleasure. Devil, my Lord? I ask you. Why, my Lord, He told me of a resty Barbary horse Which he would feign have brought to the career, The assault, and the ring galliard. Now, my Lord, I have a rare French Rider. Storms are 'ith air, my Lord; I am too low to storm. I'll not tell you; And yet I care not greatly if I do; Marry with this preparation. Holy father, I come not to you as and Intelligencer, But as a penitent sinner. What I utter Is in confession merely; which you know Must never be revealed. Sir I did love Brachiano's Duchess dearly; Or rather I pursued her with hight lust, Though she never knew on't. She was poisoned; Upon my soul she was: for which I have sworn Avenge her murder. To him I have. I'll give it over. He says it's damnable: Beside I did expect his suffrage, By reason of Camillo's death. To me sir? His creature ever to be Why now it's come about. He rai'ld upon me; And yet these Crowns were told out and laid ready, Before he knew my voyage. Oh the Art The modest form of greatness! that do fit Like Brides at wedding dinners, with their look's turned From the least wanton jests, their puling stomach Sick of the modesty, when their thoughts are lose. Even acting of those hight and lustful sports Are to ensue about midnight: such his cunning! He sounds my depth thus with a golden plummet, I am doubly armed now. Now to th'act of blood, There's but three furies found in spacious hell; But in a great men breast three thousand dwell. You would not take my way. 'T'haue poisoned his prayer book, or a pair of beads, The pummel of his saddle, his lookingglass, Or handle of his racket, o that, that! That while he had been bandying at Tennis, He might have sworn himself to hell, and struck His soul into the hazard! Oh my Lord! I would have our plot be ingenious, And have it hereafter recorded for example Rather than borrow example. On then. It had been rare.—And there Have crowned him with a wreathe of stinking garlic. To-have shown the sharpness of his government; And rancknesse of his lust. Flamineo comes. Most deadly ill. He's fallen into a strange distraction. He talks of Battles and Monopolies, Levying of taxes, and from that descends To the most brainsick language. His mind fastens On twenty several objects, which confound Deep Sense with folly. Such a fearful end May teach some men that bear too lofty crest, Though they live happiest, yet they die not best. He hath conferred the whole State of the Dukedom Upon your sister, till the Prince arrive At mature age. Pray give us leave; Attend Domine Brachiane, Domine Brachiane, solebas in bello tutus esse tuo clypeo, nùnc hunc clypeum hostituo opponas infernali. Attend Domine Brachiane si nunc quoque probas eam quae acta sunt inter nos, flecte Caput in dex rum. Si nùnc quoque probas eam quae acta sunt inter nos, flecte Can put in levum. He is departing: pray stand all apart, And let us only whisper in his ears Some private meditations, which our order Permits you not to hear. Devil Brachiano. Thou art damned. A slave condemned, and given up to the gallows Is thy great Lord and Master. Oh you slave! You that were held the famous Politician; Whose art was poison. That would have broke your wives neck down the stairs ere she was poisoned. And fine embroidered bottles, (salads And perfumes Equally mortal with a winter plague And copperesse With other devilish potticarie stuff A melting in your politic brains: dost hear. This Gasparo. And thou shalt die Like a poor rogue. And be forgotten before thy funeral sermon. Oh the cursed devil, Come to himself a gain. We are undone. (again You would prate, Sir. This is a truelove knot Sent from the Duke of Florence. The snuff is out. No woman-keeper i'ch world, Though she had practised seven year at the Pesthouse, Could have done't quaintlyer. My Lords he's dead. Yes; and so idly, that the Duke had Like To-have terrified us. You shall hear that hereafter, See! yon's the infernal, that would make up sport. Now to the revelation of that secret, She promised when she fell in love with you. Shall's fallen a dreaming? How? how? I hope you will not go to there. Mark her I prithee, she simpers Like the suds A Collier hath be washed in. The bed of snakes is broke. Excellent penitence! Usurers dream on't while they sleep out Sermons. Those crowns we'll share. Why now our action's justified, My Lord upon my soul you shall no further: You have most ridiculously engaged your self Too far already. For my partly, I have paid All my debts, so if I should chance to fallen My Creditors fallen not with me; and I vow To quite all in this bold assembly To the meanest follower. My Lord leave the City, Or I'll forswear the murder. We have brought you a Mask. Do you know us now? Yes and that More the Duke gave pension to Was the great Duke of Florence. Sirrah you once did strike me, I'll strike you Into the Centre. Dost laugh? O could I kill you forty times a day And vs't four year together; 'tweare to little: Nought greeu's but that you are to few to feed The famine of our vengeance. What dost think on? Oh thou glorious strumpet, Could I divide thy breath from this pure air When't leaves thy body, I would suck it up And breath't upon some dunghill. Oh thou hast been a most prodigious comet, But I'll cut of your train: kill the More first. Thou dost tremble, Me thinks fear should dissolve thee into air. Strike, strike, With a Joint motion. Would, are we betrayed; Why then lets constantly die all together, And having finished this most noble deed, Defy the worst of fate; not fear to bleed. Oh I am wounded. I fear I shall be taken. By thine. Yes, thy uncle, which is a partly of thee enjoined us to't. Thou knowest me I am sure, I am Cout Lodowick, And thy most noble uncle in disguise Was last night in thy Court. I do glory yet, That I can call this act mine own: For my partly, The rack, the gallows, and the torturing wheel Shall be but found sleeps to me, here's my rest "I limbed this night-piece and it was my best. Do you hear? Wil't sell me forty ounces of her blood, To water a mandrake? Oh sir, they're Knights Of several Order. That Lord i'th black cloak with the silver cross Is Knight of Rhodes; the next Knight of S. Michael That of the golden fleece; the Frenchman there Knight of the Holy-Ghost; my Lord of Savoy Knight of annunciation; the Englishman Is Knight of honoured Garter, dedicated Unto their Saint, S. George. I could describe to you Their several institutions, with the laws Annexed to their Order, but that time Permits not such discovery.