VITTORIA

Unto my Lord the Duke, The best of well come, More lights, attend the Duke. I did nothing to displease him, I carved to him at suppertime Sir in the way of pity I wish you hart-hole. Sure Sir a loathed cruelty in Ladies Is as to Doctors many funerals: It takes away their credit. 'Tis the ornament Of a weak fortune. Hear sir. To pass away the time I'll tell your grace, A dream I had last night. A foolish idle dream, Me thought I walked about the mid of night, Into a Churchyard, where a goodly Eum Tree Spread her large root in ground, under that Eum, As I sat sadly leaning on a graven, Chequered with cross-sticks, their came stealing in Your Duchess and my husband, one of them A picax boar, th'other a Rusty spade, And in rough terms they gan to challenge me, About this Eum. This harmless Eum: They told me my intent was to root up That well-grown Eum, and plant i'th steed of it A withered blackthorn, and for that they vowed To bury me alive: my husband straight With picax gan to dig, and your fell Duchess With shovel, Like a fury, voided out The earth & scattered bones, Lord how me thought I trembled, and yet for all this terror I could not pray. When to my rescue there arose me thought A whirlwind, which let fallen a massy arm From that strong plant, And both were struck dead by that sacred Eum In that base shallow graven that was their endue. Dearest mother hear me. Dear my Lord. The Duchess, I do protest if any chased denial, If any thing but blood could have allayed, His long suit to me. Oh me accursed. Whats he? Pray my Lord, Let him speak his usual tongue I'll make no answer else. I do Sir, but amongst this auditory Which come to hear my cause, the half or more May be ignorant int'. 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. I am at the mark Sir, I'll give aim to you, And tell you how near you shoot. What's all this Surely my Lords this lawyer here hath swallowed Some Poticaryes bills, or proclamations. And now the hard and vndegestable words, Come up Like stones we use give Hawks for physic. Why this is welch to Latin. Oh you mistake. You raise a blood as noble in this cheek As ever was your mother's. Honourable my Lord, It does not suit a reverend Cardinal To play the Lawyer thus Your envenomed Pothecary should doo't Oh poor charity! Thou art seldom found in scarlet. Would? whore what's that? This carracter escapes me. Well what then? Oh he's a happy husband Now he owes Nature nothing. Had I forknowne his death as you suggest, I would have bespoke my mourning. You shame your wit and Judgement To call it so; What is my joust defence By him that is my Judge called impudence? Let me appeal then from this Christian Court To the uncivil Tartar. Humbly thus. Thus low, to the most worthy and respected Leigier Ambassadors, my modesty And womanhood I tender; but withal So entangled in a cursed accusation That my defence of force Like Perseus. Must personate masculine virtue to the point. Find me but guilty, sever head from body: Weel partly good Friends: I scorn to hold my life. at yours or any men entreaty, Sir, You are deceived. For know that all your strict combined heads, Which strike against this mine of diamonds, Shall prove but glassen hammers, they shall break, These are but feigned shadows of my evils. Terrify babes, my Lord, with painted devils, I am passed such needless palsy, for your names, Of Whore and Murdresse they proceed from you, As if a man should spit against the wind, The filth return's in's face. The wolf may prey the better. I decern poison, Under your guilded pills. Grant I was tempted, Temptation to lust proves not the act, Cast a est quam nemo rogavit, You read his hight love to me, but you want My frosty answer. Condemn you me for that the Duke did love me, So may you blame so me fair and crystal river For that some melancholic distracted man, Hath drowned himself in't. 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: Infaith my Lord you might go Pistol flies, The sport would be more noble. But take you your course, it seems you have beggared me And now would feign undo me, I have houses, (first Jewels, and a poor remnant of Crusado's, Would those would make you charitable. You have one virtue left, You will not flatter me. I am not compelled to tell you. 'Twas to keep your cousin From prison, I paid use for't. Who says so but your self? if you be my accuser Pray cease to be my Judge, come from the Bench, Give in your evidence against me, and let these Be moderators: my Lord Cardinal, Were your intelligencing ears as loving As to my thoughts, had you and honest tongue I would not care though you proclaimed them all. A'your own grafting? Would? My Lord. Unto a house of convertites and your baud. A house of convertites, what's that? Do the Noblemen in Room, Erect it for their wives, that I am sent To lodge there? I must first have vengeance. I feign would know if you have your salvation By patent, that you proceed thus. A rape, a rape. Yes you have ravished justice, Forced her to do your pleasure. Die with these pills in your most cursed maws, Should bring you: health, or while you fit a'th Bench, Let your own spittle choke you. That the last day of judgement may so find you, And leave you the same devil you were before, Instruct me some good horse-lech to speak Treason, For since you cannot take my life for deeds, Take it for words, o woman's poor revenge Which dwells but in the tongue, I will not weep, No I do scorn to call up one poor tear To fawn one your injustice, bear me hence, Unto this house of what's your mitigating Title? It shall not be a house of convertites My mind shall make it honester to me Then the Popes Palace, and more peaceable Then thy soul, though thou art a Cardinal, Know this, and let it some what raise your spite, Through darkness Diamonds spread their ritchest light. Say Sir. Sir, upon my soul, I have not any. Whence was this directed? Florence! This is some treacherous plot, my Lord, To me, he never was lovely I protest, So much as in my sleep. My Lord. No matter. I'll live so now I'll make that world recant And change her speeches. You did name your Duchess. Whose death God revenge On thee most godless Duke. What have I gained by thee but infamy? Thou hast stained the spotless honour of my house, And frighted thence noble society: Like those, which sicke' oth' Palsy, and retain Ill-senting foxes about them, are still shunned By those of choicer nostrils. What do you call this house? Is this your palace? did not the Judge style it A house of penitent whores? who sent me to it? Who hath the honour to advance Vittoria To this incontinent college? is it not you? Is it not your high preferment? Go, go brag How many Ladies you have undone, Like me. Fare you well Sir; let me hear no more ofy ou. I had a limb corrupted to and ulcer, But I have cut it off: and now I'll go Weeping to heaven on crutches. For your gifts, I will return them all; and I do wish That I could make you full Executor To all my sins, ò that I could toss my self Into a graven as quickly: for all thou art worth I'll not shed one tear more;—I'll burst first. Yes, I now weep poniardes, do you see. I had rather. They were not matches. Yes: thus to bite it off, rather than gium e it thee. Hence you Pandar. Yes: He's a base thief that a thief lets in. Oh thou fool, Whose greatness hath by much oregrowne thy wit! What darest thou do, that I not dare to suffer, Excepting to be still thy whore? for that; In the seas bottom sooner thou shalt make A bonfire. Never. Hence. Oh ye dissembling men! To and misery to misery. Am I not low enough? I, I, your good heart gathers Like a snowball Now your affection's cold. Your dog or hawk should be rewarded better Then I have been. I'll speak not one word more. Oh my loved Lord, poisoned? I am lost for ever. Oh my good Lord! Oh my Lord! My Lord here's nothing. Oh! 'ly still, my Lord Oh hold it constant. It settles his wild spirits; and so his eyes Melt into tears. Oh me! this place is hell. How Ruffian? Would, are you drunk? What intends the fury? For your service There, I will read it. I give that portion to thee, and no other Which Cain groaned under having slain his brother. You are a villain. Sure he's distracted. And yet me thinks, These stones have no fair lustre, they are ill set. Turn this horror from me: What do you want? what would you have me do? Is not all mine, yours? have I any children? Did he enjoin it. This is your melancholy and despair. Will you hear me? Do you mean to die indeed. Are the doors locked? Are you grown and Atheist? will you turn your body, Which is the goodly palace of the soul To the souls slaughter house? o the cursed Devil Which does present us with all other sins Thrice candied over; Despair with gaul and stibium, Yet we carouse it off; Cry out for help, Makes us forsake that which was made for Man, The world, to sink to that was made for devils, Eternal darkness. I prithee yet remember, (throat Millions are now in graves, which at last day Like Mandrakes shall rise shrieking. It's good, I apprehend it, To kill one's self is meat that we must take Like pills, not chew't, but quickly swallow it, The smart a'th wound, or weakness of the hand May else bring treble torments. Oh but frailty! Yet I am now resolved, farewell affliction; Behold Brachiano, I that while you lived Did make a flaming Altar of my heart To sacrifice unto you; Now am ready To sacrifice heart and all. Farewell Zanche. What are you dropped. Whither to hell, Oh thou most cursed devil. In thine own Engine, I tread the fire out That would have be my ruin. Think whither thou art going. This thy death, Shall make me Like a blazing ominous star, Look up and tremble. You see the Fox comes many times short ho me, It's here proved true. No fitter offering for the infernal furies Then one in whom they reigned while he was living. Oh yes thy sins, Do run before thee to fetch fire from hell, To light thee thither. Help, help. Oh we are lost. Oh your gentle pity: I have seen a blackbird that would sooner fly To a men bosom, then to stay the gripe Of the fierce Sparrow-hawk. If Florence be ith Court, would he would kill me. You, my Death's man; Me thinks thou dost not look horrid enough, Thou hast to good a face to be a hangman,, If thou be do thy office in right form; Fallen down upon thy knees and ask forgiveness. You shall not kill her first. behold my breast, I will be waited on in death; my servant Shall never go before me. Yes I shall welcome death As Princes do some great Ambassadors; I'll meet thy weapon half way. Oh thou art deceived, I am to 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. 'Twas a manly blow The next thou givest, murder some sucking Infant, And then thou wilt be famous. Oh my greatest sin lay in my blood. Now my blood pays for't. My soul, Like to a ship in a black storm, Is driven I know not whither. Oh happy they that never saw the Court, "Nor ever knew great Man but by report. How shals rid him hence? To do what Sir? Yowl spin a fair thread, trust to't.