ACT THE FIFTH.

Fres.Sells falls, and tires, and bodies for ladies, or so.

Bel.So, sir; and she helps my lady to falls and bodies now and then, does she not?

Fres.At her ladyship's pleasure, my lord.

Bel.Her pleasure, you rogue? You are the pander to her pleasure, you varlet, are you not? You know the conveyances between Sebastian and my wife? Tell me the truth, or by this hand I'll nail thy bosom to the earth. Stir not, you dog, but quickly tell the truth.

Fres.O yes! [Speaks like a crier.

Bel.Is not thy mistress a bawd to my wife?

Fres.O yes!

Bel.And acquainted with her tricks, and her plots, and her devices?

Fres.O yes! If any man, o' court, city, or country, has found my Lady Levidulcia in bed but my Lord Belforest, it is Sebastian.

Bel.What, dost thou proclaim it? Dost thou cry it, thou villain?

Fres.Can you laugh it, my lord? I thought you meant to proclaim yourself cuckold.

EnterThe Watch.

Bel.The watch met with my wish. I must request the assistance of your offices.[Frescoruns away.'Sdeath, stay that villain; pursue him! [Exeunt.

EnterLanguebeau Snuffe,importuningSoquette.

Soqu.Nay, if you get me any more into the churchyard!

Lang.Why, Soquette, I never got thee there yet.

Soqu.Got me there! No, not with child.

Lang.I promised thee I would not, and I was as good as my word.

Soqu.Yet your word was better than your deed. But steal up into the little matted chamber o' the left hand.

Lang.I prithee let it be the right hand. Thou leftest me before, and I did not like that.

Soqu.Precious quickly.—So soon as my mistress shall be in bed I'll come to you. [ExitSnuffe.

EnterSebastian, Levidulcia,andCataplasma.

Cata.I wonder Fresco stays so long.

Sebas.Mistress Soquette, a word with you. [Whispers.

Lev.If he brings word my husband is i' bedI will adventure one night's libertyTo be abroad.—My strange affection to this man!—'Tis likeThat natural sympathy which e'en amongThe senseless creatures of the earth commandsA mutual inclination and consent.For though it seems to be the free effectOf mine own voluntary love, yet I canNeither restrain it nor give reason for't.But now 'tis done, and in your power it liesTo save my honour, or dishonour me.Cata.Enjoy your pleasure, madam, without fear,I never will betray the trust you haveCommitted to me. And you wrong yourselfTo let consideration of the sinMolest your conscience. Methinks 'tis unjustThat a reproach should be inflicted onA woman for offending but with one,When 'tis a light offence in husbands toCommit with many.Lev.So it seems to me.—Why, how now, Sebastian, making love to that gentlewoman? How many mistresses ha' you i' faith?

Sebas.In faith, none; for I think none of 'em arefaithful; but otherwise, as many as clean shirts. The love of a woman is like a mushroom,—it grows in one night and will serve somewhat pleasingly next morning to breakfast, but afterwards waxes fulsome and unwholesome.

Cata.Nay, by Saint Winifred, a woman's love lasts as long as winter fruit.

Sebas.'Tis true—till new come in. By my experience no longer.

EnterFrescorunning.

Fres.Somebody's doing has undone us, and we are like to pay dearly for't.

Sebas.Pay dear? For what?

Fres.Will't not be a chargeable reckoning, think you, when here are half a dozen fellows coming to call us to account, with every man a several bill[173]in his hand that we are not able to discharge. [Knock at the door.

Cata.Passion o' me! What bouncing's that? Madam, withdraw yourself.

Lev.Sebastian, if you love me, save my honour. [Exeunt all exceptSebastian.

Sebas.What violence is this? What seek you? Zounds!You shall not pass.

EnterBelforestwith theWatch.

Bel.Pursue the strumpet [ExitWatch]. Villain, give me way,Or I will make a passage through thy blood.Sebas.My blood will make it slippery, my lord,'Twere better you would take another way.You may hap fall else.[They fight. Both are slain.Sebastianfalls first.Sebas.I ha't, i' faith. [Dies.

[WhileBelforestis staggering enterLevidulcia.

Lev.O God! my husband! my Sebastian! Husband!Neither can speak, yet both report my shame.Is this the saving of my honour whenTheir blood runs out in rivers, and my lustThe fountain whence it flows? Dear husband, letNot thy departed spirit be displeasedIf with adulterate lips I kiss thy cheek.Here I behold the hatefulness of lust,Which brings me kneeling to embrace him deadWhose body living I did loathe to touch.Now I can weep. But what can tears do goodWhen I weep only water, they weep blood.But could I make an ocean with my tearsThat on the flood this broken vessel ofMy body, laden heavy with light lust,Might suffer shipwreck and so drown my shame.Then weeping were to purpose, but alas!The sea wants water enough to wash awayThe foulness of my name. O! in their woundsI feel my honour wounded to the death.Shall I out-live my honour? Must my lifeBe made the world's example? Since it must,Then thus in detestation of my deed,To make the example move more forceablyTo virtue, thus I seal it with a deathAs full of horror as my life of sin. [Stabs herself.

Enter theWatchwithCataplasma, Fresco, Languebeau Snuffe,andSoquette.

Watch.Hold, madam! Lord, what a strange night is this!

Lang.May not Snuffe be suffered to go out of himself?

Watch.Nor you, nor any. All must go with us.O with what virtue lust should be withstood!Since 'tis a fire quenched seldom without blood.[Exeunt.

AServantsleeping, with lights and money before him. Music.EnterD'Amville.

AServantsleeping, with lights and money before him. Music.

EnterD'Amville.

D'Am.What, sleep'st thou?Ser.[Awaking] No, my lord. Nor sleep nor wake;But in a slumber troublesome to both.D 'Am.Whence comes this gold?Ser.'Tis part of the revenueDue to your lordship since your brother's death.D'Am.To bed. Leave me my gold.Ser.And me my rest.Two things wherewith one man is seldom blest.[Exit.D'Am.Cease that harsh music. We are not pleased with it.[He handles the gold.Here sounds a music whose melodious touchLike angels' voices ravishes the sense.Behold, thou ignorant astronomerWhose wandering speculation seeks amongThe planets for men's fortunes, with amazementBehold thine error and be planet-struck.These are the stars whose operations makeThe fortunes and the destinies of men.Yon lesser eyes of Heaven (like subjects raisedInto their lofty houses, when their princeRides underneath the ambition of their loves)Are mounted only to behold the faceOf your more rich imperious eminenceWith unprevented sight. Unmask, fair queen.[Unpurses the gold.Vouchsafe their expectations may enjoyThe gracious favour[174]they admire to see.These are the stars, the ministers of Fate,And man's high wisdom the superior powerTo which their forces are subordinate. [Sleeps.

Enter theGhostofMontferrers.

Mont.D'Amville! With all thy wisdom th'art a fool.Not like those fools that we term innocents,But a most wretched miserable foolWhich instantly, to the confusion ofThy projects, with despair thou shalt behold.[ExitGhost.D'Am.[Starting up.] What foolish dream dares interrupt my restTo my confusion? How can that be, sinceMy purposes have hitherto been borneWith prosperous judgment to secure success,Which nothing lives to dispossess me ofBut apprehended[175]Charlemont. And himThis brain has made the happy instrumentTo free suspicion, to annihilateAll interest and title of his ownTo seal up my assurance, and confirmMy absolute possession by the law.Thus while the simple, honest worshipperOf a fantastic providence, groans underThe burthen of neglected misery,My real wisdom has raised up a stateThat shall eternise my posterity.

EnterServantwith the body ofSebastian.

What's that?Ser.The body of your younger son,Slain by the Lord Belforest.D'Am.Slain! You lie!Sebastian! Speak, Sebastian! He's lostHis hearing. A physician presently.Go, call a surgeon.Rous.O—oh! [Within.D'Am.What groan was that?How does my elder son? The sound came fromHis chamber.Ser.He went sick to bed, my lord.Rous.O—oh! [Within.D'Am.The cries of mandrakes never touched the earWith more sad horror than that voice does mine.

Entera Servantrunning.

Ser.Never you will see your son alive—D'Am.Nature forbid I e'er should see him dead.[A bed drawn forth withRousardon it.Withdraw the curtains. O how does my son?Ser.Methinks he's ready to give up the ghost.D'Am.Destruction take thee and thy fatal tongue.Dead! where's the doctor?—Art not thou the faceOf that prodigious apparition stared uponMe in my dream?Ser.The doctor's come, my lord.

EnterDoctor.

D'Am.Doctor, behold two patients in whose cureThy skill may purchase an eternal fame.If thou'st any reading in Hippocrates,Galen, or Avicen; if herbs, or drugs,Or minerals have any power to save,Now let thy practice and their sovereign useRaise thee to wealth and honour.Doct.If any root of life remains within 'emCapable of physic, fear 'em not, my lord.Rous.O—oh!D'Am.His gasping sighs are like the falling noiseOf some great building when the groundwork breaks.On these two pillars stood the stately frameAnd architecture of my lofty house.An earthquake shakes 'em. The foundation shrinks.Dear Nature, in whose honour I have raisedA work of glory to posterity,O bury not the pride of that great actionUnder the fall and mine of itself.Doct.My lord, these bodies are deprived of allThe radical ability of Nature.The heat of life is utterly extinguished.Nothing remains within the power of manThat can restore them.D'Am.Take this gold, extractThe spirit of it, and inspire new lifeInto their bodies.Doct.Nothing can, my lord.D'Am.You ha' not yet examined the true stateAnd constitution of their bodies. SureYou ha' not. I'll reserve their waters tillThe morning. Questionless, their urines willInform you better.Doct.Ha, ha, ha!D'Am.Dost laugh,Thou villain? Must my wisdom that has beenThe object of men's admiration nowBecome the subject of thy laughter?Rou.O—oh! [Dies.All.He's dead.D'Am.O there expires the dateOf my posterity! Can nature beSo simple or malicious to destroyThe reputation of her proper memory?She cannot. Sure there is some power aboveHer that controls her force.Doct.A power aboveNature? Doubt you that, my lord? Consider butWhence man receives his body and his form.Not from corruption like some worms and flies,But only from the generation ofA man. For Nature never did bring forthA man without a man; nor could the firstMan, being but the passive subject, notThe active mover, be the maker ofHimself. So of necessity there mustBe a superior power to Nature.D'Am.Now to myself I am ridiculous.Nature, thou art a traitor to my soul.Thou hast abused my trust. I will complainTo a superior court to right my wrong.I'll prove thee a forger of false assurances.In yon Star Chamber thou shalt answer it.Withdraw the bodies. O the sense of deathBegins to trouble my distracted soul. [Exeunt.

EnterJudgesandOfficers.

1st Judge.Bring forth the malefactors to the bar.

EnterCataplasma, Soquette,andFresco.

Are you the gentlewoman in whose houseThe murders were committed?Cata.Yes, my lord.1st Judge.That worthy attribute of gentry whichYour habit draws from ignorant respectYour name deserves not, nor yourself the nameOf woman, since you are the poison thatInfects the honour of all womanhood.Cata.My lord, I am a gentlewoman; yetI must confess my poverty compelsMy life to a condition lower thanMy birth or breeding.2nd Judge.Tush, we know your birth.1st Judge.But, under colour to profess the saleOf tires and toys for gentlewomen's pride,You draw a frequentation of men's wivesTo your licentious house, and there abuseTheir husbands.—Fres.Good my lord, her rent is great.The good gentlewoman has no other thingTo live by but her lodgings. So she's forcedTo let her fore-rooms out to others, andHerself contented to lie backwards.2nd Judge.So.1st Judge.Here is no evidence accuses youFor accessories to the murder, yetSince from the spring of lust, which you preservedAnd nourished, ran the effusion of that blood,Your punishment shall come as near to deathAs life can bear it. Law cannot inflictToo much severity upon the causeOf such abhorred effects.2nd Judge.Receive your sentence.Your goods (since they were gotten by that meansWhich brings diseases) shall be turned to the useOf hospitals. You carted through the streetsAccording to the common shame of strumpets,Your bodies whipped, till with the loss of bloodYou faint under the hand of punishment.Then that the necessary force of wantMay not provoke you to your former life,You shall be set to painful labour, whosePenurious gains shall only give you foodTo hold up Nature, mortify your flesh,And make you fit for a repentant end.

All.O good my lord!

1st Judge.No more. Away with 'em. [ExeuntCataplasma, Soquette,andFresco.

EnterLanguebeau Snuffe.

2nd Judge.Now, Monsieur Snuffe! A man of your professionFound in a place of such impiety!

Lang.I grant you. The place is full of impurity. So much the more need of instruction and reformation. The purpose that carried me thither was with the spirit of conversion to purify their uncleanness, and I hope your lordship will say the law cannot take hold o' me for that.

1st Judge.No, sir, it cannot; but yet give me leaveTo tell you that I hold your wary answerRather premeditated for excuseThen spoken out of a religious purpose.Where took you your degrees of scholarship?

Lang.I am no scholar, my lord. To speak the sincere truth, I am Snuffe the tallow-chandler.

2nd Judge.How comes your habits to be altered thus?

Lang.My Lord Belforest, taking a delight in the cleanness of my conversation, withdrew me from that unclean life and put me in a garment fit for his society, and my present profession.

1st Judge.His lordship did but paint a rotten post,Or cover foulness fairly. Monsieur Snuffe,Back to your candle-making! You may giveThe world more light with that, than either withInstruction or the example of your life.

Lang.Thus the Snuffe is put out. [Exit.

EnterD'Amvilledistractedly with the hearses of his twoSonsborne after him.

D'Am.Judgment! Judgment!

2nd Judge.Judgment, my lord, in what?D'Am.Your judgment must resolve me in a case.Bring in the bodies. Nay, I'll ha' it tried.This is the case, my lord. By providence,Even in a moment, by the only hurtOf one, or two, or three at most, and thosePut quickly out o' pain, too, mark me, IHad wisely raised a competent estateTo my posterity. And is there notMore wisdom and more charity in thatThan for your lordship, or your father, orYour grandsire to prolong the torment andThe rack of rent from age to age uponYour poor penurious tenants, yet perhapsWithout a penny profit to your heir?Is't not more wise? more charitable? Speak.1st Judge.He is distracted.D'Am.How? distracted? ThenYou ha' no judgment. I can give you senseAnd solid reason for the very leastDistinguishable syllable I speak.Since my thriftWas more judicious than your grandsires', whyI would fain know why your lordship lives to makeA second generation from your father,And the whole fry of my posterityExtinguished in a moment. Not a bratLeft to succeed me.—I would fain know that.2nd Judge.Grief for his children's death distempers him.1st Judge.My lord, we will resolve you of your question.[176]In the meantime vouchsafe your place with us.D'Am.I am contented, so you will resolve me.[Ascends.

EnterCharlemontandCastabella.

2nd Judge.Now, Monsieur Charlemont, you are accusedOf having murdered one Borachio, thatWas servant to my Lord D'Amville. How canYou clear yourself? Guilty or not guilty?Charl.Guilty of killing him, but not of murder.My lords, I have no purpose to desireRemission for myself.—[D'Amvilledescends toCharlemont.D'Am.Uncivil boy!Thou want'st humanity to smile at grief.Why dost thou cast a cheerful eye uponThe object of my sorrow—my dead sons?1st Judge.O good my lord, let charity forbearTo vex the spirit of a dying man.A cheerful eye upon the face of deathIs the true countenance of a noble mind.For honour's sake, my lord, molest it not.D'Am.Y'are all uncivil. O! is't not enoughThat he unjustly hath conspired with FateTo cut off my posterity, for himTo be the heir to my possessions, butHe must pursue me with his presence.And, in the ostentation of his joy,Laugh in my face and glory in my grief?Charl.D'Amville, to show thee with what light respectI value death and thy insulting pride,Thus, like a warlike navy on the sea,Bound for the conquest of some wealthy land,Passed through the stormy troubles of this life,And now arrived upon the armèd coastIn expectation of the victoryWhose honour lies beyond this exigent,[177]Through mortal danger, with an active spiritThus I aspire to undergo my death.[Leaps up the scaffold.Castabellaleaps after him.Cast.And thus I second thy brave enterprise.Be cheerful, Charlemont. Our lives cut offIn our young prime of years are like green herbsWherewith we strew the hearses of our friends.For, as their virtue, gathered when they are green,Before they wither or corrupt, is best;So we in virtue are the best for deathWhile yet we have not lived to such an ageThat the increasing canker of our sinsHath spread too far upon us.—D'Am.A boon, my lords,I beg a boon.1st Judge.What's that, my lord?D'Am.His body when 'tis deadFor an anatomy.[178]2nd Judge.For what, my lord?D'Am.Your understanding still comes short o' mine.I would find out by his anatomyWhat thing there is in Nature more exactThan in the constitution of myself.Methinks my parts and my dimensions areAs many, as large, as well composed as his;And yet in me the resolution wantsTo die with that assurance as he does.The cause of that in his anatomyI would find out.1st Judge.Be patient and you shall.D'Am.I have bethought me of a better way.—Nephew, we must confer.—Sir, I am grownA wondrous student now o' late. My witHas reached beyond the scope of Nature, yetFor all my learning I am still to seekFrom whence the peace of conscience should proceed.Charl.The peace of conscience rises in itself.D'Am.Whether it be thy art or nature, IAdmire thee, Charlemont. Why, thou hast taughtA woman to be valiant. I will begThy life.—My lords, I beg my nephew's life.I'll make thee my physician. Thou shalt readPhilosophy to me. I will find outThe efficient cause of a contented mind.But if I cannot profit in't, then 'tisNo more good being my physician,But infuseA little poison in a potion whenThou giv'st me physic, unawares to me.So I shall steal into my grave withoutThe understanding or the fear of death.And that's the end I aim at. For the thoughtOf death is a most fearful torment; is it not?2nd Judge.Your lordship interrupts the course of law.1st Judge.Prepare to die.Charl.My resolution's made.But ere I die, before this honoured bench,With the free voice of a departing soul,I here protest this gentlewoman clearOf all offence the law condemns her for.Cast.I have accused myself. The law wants powerTo clear me. My dear Charlemont, with theeI will partake of all thy punishments.Charl.Uncle, for all the wealthy benefitsMy death advances you, grant me but this:Your mediation for the guiltless lifeOf Castabella, whom your conscience knowsAs justly clear as harmless innocence.D'Am.Freely. My mediation for her lifeAnd all my interest in the world to boot;Let her but in exchange possess me ofThe resolution that she dies withal.—The price of things is best known in their want.Had I her courage, so I value it:The Indies should not buy't out o' my hands.Charl.Give me a glass of water.D'Am.Me of wine.—This argument of death congeals my blood.Cold fear, with apprehension of thy end,Hath frozen up the rivers of my veins.—[Servantbrings him a glass of wine.I must drink wine to warm me and dissolveThe obstruction; or an apoplexy willPossess me.—Why, thou uncharitable knave,Dost thou bring me blood to drink? The very glassLooks pale and trembles at it.Ser.'Tis your hand, my lord.D'Am.Canst blame me to be fearful, bearing stillThe presence of a murderer about me?[ServantgivesCharlemonta glass of water.Charl.Is this water?Ser.Water, sir.Charl.Come, thou clear emblem of cool temperance,Be thou my witness that I use no artTo force my courage nor have need of helpsTo raise my spirits, like those of weaker menWho mix their blood with wine, and out of thatAdulterate conjunction do begetA bastard valour. Native courage, thanks.Thou lead'st me soberly to undertakeThis great hard work of magnanimity.D'Am.Brave Charlemont, at the reflexion ofThy courage my cold fearful blood takes fire,And I begin to emulate thy death.[Executionercomes forward.—Is that thy executioner? My lords,You wrong the honour of so high a bloodTo let him suffer by so base a hand.Judges.He suffers by the form of law, my lord.D'Am.I will reform it. Down, you shag-haired cur.[179]The instrument that strikes my nephew's bloodShall be as noble as his blood. I'll beThy executioner myself.1st Judge.Restrain his fury. Good my lord, forbear.D'Am.I'll butcher out the passage of his soulThat dares attempt to interrupt the blow.2nd Judge.My lord, the office will impress a markOf scandal and dishonour on your name.Charl.The office fits him: hinder not his hand,But let him crown my resolution withAn unexampled dignity of death.Strike home. Thus I submit me.[Is made ready for execution.Cast.So do I.In scorn of death thus hand in hand we die.D'Am.I ha' the trick on't, nephew. You shall seeHow easily I can put you out of pain.—Oh![As he raises up the axe he strikes out his own brains, and staggers off the scaffold.Exe.In lifting up the axeI think he's knocked his brains out.D'Am.What murderer was he that lifted upMy hand against my head?1st Judge.None but yourself, my lord.D'Am.I thought he was a murderer that did it.1st Judge.God forbid!D'Am.Forbid? You lie, judge. He commanded it.To tell thee that man's wisdom is a fool.I came to thee for judgment, and thou think'stThyself a wise man, I outreached thy witAnd made thy justice murder's instrument,In Castabella's death and in Charlemont's,To crown my murder of Montferrers withA safe possession of his wealthy state.Charl.I claim the just advantage of his words.2nd Judge.Descend the scaffold and attend the rest.D'Am.There was the strength of natural understanding.But Nature is a fool. There is a powerAbove her that hath overthrown the prideOf all my projects and posterity,For whose surviving bloodI had erected a proud monument,And struck 'em dead before me, for whose deathsI called to thee for judgment. Thou didst wantDiscretion for the sentence. But yon powerThat struck me knew the judgment I deserved,And gave it.—O! the lust of death commitsA rape upon me as I would ha' doneOn Castabella. [Dies.1st Judge.Strange is his death and judgment.With the handsOf joy and justice I thus set you free.The power of that eternal providenceWhich overthrew his projects in their prideHath made your griefs the instruments to raiseYour blessings to a higher height than ever.Charl.Only to Heaven I attribute the work,Whose gracious motives made me still forbearTo be mine own revenger. Now I seeThat patience is the honest man's revenge.1st Judge.Instead of Charlemont that but e'en nowStood ready to be dispossessed of all,I now salute you with more titles bothOf wealth and dignity, than you were born to.And you, sweet madam, Lady of Belforest,You have the title by your father's death.Cast.With all the titles due to me, increaseThe wealth and honour of my Charlemont,Lord of Montferrers, Lord D'Amville Belforest,—And for a close to make up all the rest—[EmbracesCharlemont.The Lord of Castabella. Now at lastEnjoy the full possession of my love,As clear and pure as my first chastity.Charl.The crown of all my blessings!—I will temptMy stars no longer, nor protract my timeOf marriage. When those nuptial rites are done,I will perform my kinsmen's funeral.1st Judge.The drums and trumpets! Interchange the soundsOf death and triumph. For these honoured lives,Succeeding their deservèd tragedies.Charl.Thus, by the work of heaven, the men that thoughtTo follow our dead bodies without tearsAre dead themselves, and now we follow theirs.[Exeunt.

This play was entered on the stationers' books in 1607, and was sometimes calledThe Loyal Brother. There are two quarto editions of it, one dated 1607 and one 1608, and from the care with which the text is printed it is probable that the author revised the proofs. The play has several times been reprinted. Tourneur's plots have no known source.

The Duke.

Lussurioso, the Duke's Son.

Spurio, a Bastard.

Ambitioso, the Duchess' Eldest Son.

Supervacuo, the Duchess' Second Son.

The Duchess' Youngest Son.

Vendice, disguised asPiato,Hippolito, also calledCarlo,Brothers ofCastiza.

Antonio,Piero,Dondolo,Nobles.

Judges, Nobles, Gentlemen, Officers, Keeper, Servants.

The Duchess.

Castiza.

Gratiana, Mother ofCastiza.

SCENE—A City of Italy.

EnterVendice.[180]TheDuke, Duchess, Lussurioso, Spurio,with a train, pass over the stage with torchlight.

Ven.Duke! royal lecher! go, grey-haired adultery!And thou his son, as impious steeped as he:And thou his bastard, true begot in evil:And thou his duchess, that will do with devil:Four excellent characters! O, that marrowless ageShould stuff the hollow bones with damned desires!And, 'stead of heat, kindle infernal firesWithin the spendthrift veins of a dry duke,A parched and juiceless luxur.[181]O God! one,That has scarce blood enough to live upon;And he to riot it, like a son and heir!O, the thought of thatTurns my abusèd heart-strings into fret.Thou sallow picture of my poisoned love,[Views the skull in his hand.My study's ornament, thou shell of death,Once the bright face of my betrothèd lady,When life and beauty naturally filled outThese ragged imperfections;When two heaven-pointed diamonds were setIn those unsightly rings—then 'twas a faceSo far beyond the artificial shineOf any woman's bought complexionThat the uprightest man (if such there be,That sin but seven times a day) broke custom,And made up eight with looking after her.O, she was able to ha' made a usurer's sonMelt all his patrimony in a kiss;And what his father fifty years[182]told,To have consumed, and yet his suit been cold.But, O accursèd palace!Thee, when thou wert apparelled in thy flesh,The old duke poisoned,Because thy purer part would not consentUnto his palsied lust; for old men lustfulDo show like young men angry, eager, violent,Outbidden like their limited performances.O, 'ware an old man hot and vicious!"Age, as in gold, in lust is covetous."Vengeance, thou murder's quit-rent, and wherebyThou show'st thyself tenant to tragedy;O keep thy day, hour, minute, I beseech,For those thou hast determined. Hum! who e'er knewMurder unpaid? faith, give revenge her due,She has kept touch hitherto: be merry, merry,Advance thee, O thou terror to fat folks,To have their costly three-piled flesh worn offAs bare as this; for banquets, ease, and laughterCan make great men, as greatness goes by clay;But wise men little are more great than they.

EnterHippolito.

Hip. Still sighing o'er death's vizard?Ven.Brother, welcome!What comfort bring'st thou? how go things at court?Hip.In silk and silver, brother: never braver.Ven.Pooh!Thou play'st upon my meaning. Prythee, say,Has that bald madam, Opportunity,Yet thought upon's? speak, are we happy yet?Thy wrongs and mine are for one scabbard fit.Hip.It may prove happiness.Ven.What is't may prove?Give me to taste.Hip.Give me your hearing, then.You know my place at court?Ven.Ay, the duke's chamber!But 'tis a marvel thou'rt not turned out yet!Hip.Faith, I've been shoved at; but 'twas still my hapTo hold by the duchess' skirt: you guess at that:Whom such a coat keeps up, can ne'er fall flat.But to the purpose—Last evening, predecessor unto this,The duke's son warily inquired for me,Whose pleasure I attended: he beganBy policy to open and unhusk meAbout the time and common rumour:But I had so much wit to keep my thoughtsUp in their built houses; yet afforded himAn idle satisfaction without danger.But the whole aim and scope of his intentEnded in this: conjuring me in privateTo seek some strange-digested fellow forth,Of ill-contented nature; either disgracedIn former times, or by new grooms displaced,Since his step-mother's nuptials; such a blood,A man that were for evil only good—To give you the true word, some base-coined pander.Ven.I reach you; for I know his heat is such,Were there as many concubines as ladies,He would not be contained; he must fly out.I wonder how ill-featured, vile-proportioned,That one should be, if she were made for woman,Whom, at the insurrection of his lust,He would refuse for once. Heart! I think none.Next to a skull, though more unsound than one,Each face he meets he strongly doats upon.Hip.Brother, y' have truly spoke him.He knows not you, but I will swear you know him.Ven.And therefore I'll put on that knave for once,And be a right man then, a man o' the time;For to be honest is not to be i' the world,Brother, I'll be that strange-composèd fellow.Hip.And I'll prefer you, brother.Ven.Go to, then:The smallest advantage fattens wronged men:It may point but occasion; if I meet her,I'll hold her by the foretop fast enough;Or, like the French mole,[183]heave up hair and all.I have a habit that will fit it quaintly.Here comes our mother.Hip.And sister.Ven.We must coin:Women are apt, you know, to take false money;But I dare stake my soul for these two creatures;Only excuse excepted, that they'll swallow,Because their sex is easy in belief.

EnterGratianaandCastiza.

Gra.What news from court, son Carlo?

Hip.Faith, mother,'Tis whispered there the duchess' youngest sonHas played a rape on Lord Antonio's wife.Gra.On that religious lady!Cas.Royal blood monster! he deserves to die,If Italy had no more hopes but he.Ven.Sister, y' have sentenced most direct and true,The law's a woman, and would she were you.Mother, I must take leave of you.Gra.Leave for what?Ven.I intend speedy travel.Hip.That he does, madam.Gra.Speedy indeed!Ven.For since my worthy father's funeral,My life's unnaturally to me, e'en compelled;As if I lived now, when I should be dead.Gra.Indeed, he was a worthy gentleman,Had his estate been fellow to his mind.Ven.The duke did much deject him.Gra.Much?Ven.Too much:And though disgrace oft smothered in his spirit,When it would mount, surely I think he diedOf discontent, the noble man's consumption.Gra.Most sure he did.Ven.Did he, 'lack? you know all:—You were his midnight secretary.Gra.No,He was too wise to trust me with his thoughts.Ven.I' faith, then, father, thou wast wise indeed;"Wives are but made to go to bed and feed."Come, mother, sister: you'll bring me onward, brother?Hip.I will.Ven.I'll quickly turn into another.[Aside. Exeunt.

Enter theDuke, Lussurioso,theDuchess, Spurio, Ambitioso,andSupervacuo;theDuchess'Youngest Sonbrought out byOfficers.TwoJudges.

Duke.Duchess, it is your youngest son, we're sorryHis violent act has e'en drawn blood of honour,And stained our honours;Thrown ink upon the forehead of our state;Which envious spirits will dip their pens intoAfter our death; and blot us in our tombs:For that which would seem treason in our livesIs laughter, when we're dead. Who dares now whisper,That dares not then speak out, and e'en proclaimWith loud words and broad pens our closest shame?1st Judge.Your grace hath spoke like to your silver years,Full of confirmèd gravity; for what is it to haveA flattering false insculption on a tomb,And in men's hearts reproach? the bowelled[184]corpseMay be seared in, but (with free tongue I speak)The faults of great men through their sear-cloths break.Duke.They do; we're sorry for't: it is our fateTo live in fear, and die to live in hate.I leave him to your sentence; doom him, lords—The fact is great—whilst I sit by and sigh.Duch.My gracious lord, I pray be merciful:Although his trespass far exceed his years,Think him to be your own, as I am yours;Call him not son-in-law: the law, I fear,Will fall too soon upon his name and him:Temper his fault with pity.Lus.Good my lord,Then 'twill not taste so bitter and unpleasantUpon the judges' palate; for offences,Gilt o'er with mercy, show like fairest women,Good only for their beauties, which washed off,No sin is uglier.Amb.I beseech your grace,Be soft and mild; let not relentless lawLook with an iron forehead on our brother.Spu.He yields small comfort yet; hope he shall die;And if a bastard's wish might stand in force,Would all the court were turned into a corse! [Aside.Duch.No pity yet? must I rise fruitless then?A wonder in a woman! are my kneesOf such low metal, that without respect—Judge.Let the offender stand forth:'Tis the duke's pleasure that impartial doomShall take fast hold of his unclean attempt.A rape! why 'tis the very core of lust—Double adultery.Y. Son.So, sir.2nd Judge.And which was worse,Committed on the Lord Antonio's wife,That general-honest lady. Confess, my lord,What moved you to't?Y. Son.Why, flesh and blood, my lord;What should move men unto a woman else?Lus.O, do not jest thy doom! trust not an axeOr sword too far: the law is a wise serpent,And quickly can beguile thee of thy life.Though marriage only has made thee my brother,I love thee so far: play not with thy death.Y. Son.I thank you, troth; good admonitions, faith,If I'd the grace now to make use of them.1st Judge.That lady's name has spread such a fair wingOver all Italy, that if our tonguesWere sparing toward the fact, judgment itselfWould be condemned, and suffer in men's thoughts.Y. Son.Well then, 'tis done; and it would please me well,Were it to do again: sure, she's a goddess,For I'd no power to see her, and to live.It falls out true in this, for I must die;Her beauty was ordained to be my scaffold.And yet, methinks, I might be easier 'sessed:My fault being sport, let me but die in jest.1st Judge.This be the sentence—Duch.O, keep't upon your tongue; let it not slip;Death too soon steals out of a lawyer's lip.Be not so cruel-wise!1st Judge.Your grace must pardon us;'Tis but the justice of the law.Duch.The lawIs grown more subtle than a woman should be.Spu.Now, now he dies! rid 'em away. [Aside.Duch.O, what it is to have an old cool duke,To be as slack in tongue as in performance! [Aside.1st Judge.Confirmed, this be the doom irrevocable.Duch.O!1st Judge.To-morrow early—Duch.Pray be abed, my lord.1st Judge.Your grace much wrongs yourself.Amb.No, 'tis that tongue:Your too much right does do us too much wrong.1st Judge.Let that offender—Duch.Live, and be in health.1st Judge.Be on a scaffold—Duke.Hold, hold, my lord!Spu.Pox on't,What makes my dad speak now? [Aside.Duke.We will defer the judgment till next sitting:In the meantime, let him be kept close prisoner.Guard, bear him hence.Amb.Brother, this makes for thee;Fear not, we'll have a trick to set thee free. [Aside.Y. Son.Brother, I will expect it from you both;And in that hope I rest. [Aside.Sup.Farewell, be merry. [Exit with aGuard.Spu.Delayed! deferred! nay then, if judgment have cold blood,Flattery and bribes will kill it.Duke.About it, then, my lords, with your best powers:More serious business calls upon our hours.[Exeunt, excepting theDuchess.Duch.Was't ever known step-duchess was so mildAnd calm as I? some now would plot his deathWith easy doctors, those loose-living men,And make his withered grace fall to his grave,And keep church better.Some second wife would do this, and despatchHer double-loathèd lord at meat or sleep.Indeed, 'tis true, an old man's twice a child;Mine cannot speak; one of his single wordsWould quite have freed my youngest dearest sonFrom death or durance, and have made him walkWith a bold foot upon the thorny law,Whose prickles should bow under him; but 'tis not,And therefore wedlock-faith shall be forgot:I'll kill him in his forehead; hate, there feed;That wound is deepest, though it never bleed.And here comes he whom my heart points unto,His bastard son, but my love's true-begot;Many a wealthy letter have I sent him,Swelled up with jewels, and the timorous manIs yet but coldly kind.That jewel's mine that quivers in his ear,Mocking his master's chillness and vain fear.He has spied me now!

EnterSpurio.

Spu.Madam, your grace so private?My duty on your hand.Duch.Upon my hand, sir! troth, I think you'd fearTo kiss my hand too; if my lip stood there.Spu.Witness I would not, madam. [Kisses her.Duch.'Tis a wonder;For ceremony has made many fools!It is as easy way unto a duchess,As to a hatted dame,[185]if her love answer:But that by timorous honours, pale respects,Idle degrees of fear, men make their waysHard of themselves. What, have you thought of me?Spu.Madam, I ever think of you in duty,Regard, and—Duch.Pooh! upon my love, I mean.Spu.I would 'twere love; but 'tis a fouler nameThan lust: you are my father's wife—your grace may guess nowWhat I could call it.Duch.Why, th' art his son but falsely;'Tis a hard question whether he begot thee.Spu.I' faith, 'tis true: I'm an uncertain manOf more uncertain woman. Maybe, his groomO' the stable begot me; you know I know not!He could ride a horse well, a shrewd suspicion, marry!—He was wondrous tall: he had his length, i' faith.For peeping over half-shut holyday windows,Men would desire him light. When he was afoot.He made a goodly show under a pent-house;And when he rid, his hat would check the signs,And clatter barbers' basons.Duch.Nay; set you a-horseback once,You'll ne'er light off.[186]Spu.Indeed, I am a beggar.Duch.That's the more sign thou'rt great.—But to our love:Let it stand firm both in thy thought and mind,That the duke was thy father, as no doubt thenHe bid fair for't—thy injury is the more;For had he cut thee a right diamond,Thou had'st been next set in the dukedom's ring,When his worn self, like age's easy slave,Had dropped out of the collet[187]into th' grave.What wrong can equal this? canst thou be tame,And think upon't?Spu.No, mad, and think upon't.Duch.Who would not be revenged of such a father,E'en in the worst way? I would thank that sin,That could most injure him, and be in league with it.O, what a grief 'tis that a man should liveBut once i' the world, and then to live a bastard—The curse o' the womb, the thief of nature,Begot against the seventh commandment,Half-damned in the conception by the justiceOf that unbribèd everlasting law.Spu.O, I'd a hot-backed devil to my father.Duch.Would not this mad e'en patience, make blood rough?Who but an eunuch would not sin? his bed,By one false minute disinherited.Spu.Ay, there's the vengeance that my birth was wrapped in!I'll be revenged for all: now, hate, begin;I'll call foul incest but a venial sin.Duch.Cold still! in vain then must a duchess woo?Spu.Madam, I blush to say what I will do.Duch.Thence flew sweet comfort. Earnest, and farewell. [Kisses him.Spu.O, one incestuous kiss picks open hell.Duch.Faith, now, old duke, my vengeance shall reach high,I'll arm thy brow with woman's heraldry. [Exit.Spu.Duke, thou didst do me wrong; and, by thy actAdultery is my nature.Faith, if the truth were known, I was begotAfter some gluttonous dinner; some stirring dishWas my first father, when deep healths went round,And ladies' cheeks were painted red with wine,Their tongues, as short and nimble as their heels,Uttering words sweet and thick; and when they rose,Were merrily disposed to fall again,In such a whispering and withdrawing hour,When base male-bawds kept sentinel at stair-head,Was I stol'n softly. O damnation meet![188]The sin of feasts, drunken adultery!I feel it swell me; my revenge is just!I was begot in impudent wine and lust.Step-mother, I consent to thy desires;I love thy mischief well; but I hate theeAnd those three cubs thy sons, wishing confusion,Death and disgrace may be their epitaphs.As for my brother, the duke's only son,Whose birth is more beholding to reportThan mine, and yet perhaps as falsely sown(Women must not be trusted with their own),I'll loose my days upon him, hate-all-I;Duke, on thy brow I'll draw my bastardy:For indeed a bastard by nature should make cuckolds,Because he is the son of a cuckold-maker. [Exit.

EnterVendicein disguise andHippolito.

Ven.What, brother, am I far enough from myself?Hip.As if another man had been sent wholeInto the world, and none wist how he came.Ven.It will confirm me bold—the child o' the court;Let blushes dwell i' the country. Impudence!Thou goddess of the palace, mistress of mistresses,To whom the costly perfumed people pray,Strike thou my forehead into dauntless marble,Mine eyes to steady sapphires. Turn my visage;And, if I must needs glow, let me blush inward,That this immodest season may not spyThat scholar in my cheeks, fool bashfulness;That maid in the old time, whose flush of graceWould never suffer her to get good clothes.Our maids are wiser, and are less ashamed;Save Grace the bawd, I seldom hear grace named!Hip.Nay, brother, you reach out o' the verge now;—'Sfoot, the duke's son! settle your looks.Ven.Pray, let me not be doubted.Hip.My lord—

EnterLussurioso.

Lus.Hippolito—be absent, leave us!Hip.My lord, after long search, wary inquiries,And politic siftings, I made choice of yon fellow,Whom I guess rare for many deep employments:This our age swims within him; and if TimeHad so much hair, I should take him for Time,He is so near kin to this present minute.Lus.'Tis enough;We thank thee: yet words are but great men's blanks;[189]Gold, though it be dumb, does utter the best thanks.[Gives him money.Hip.Your plenteous honour! an excellent fellow, my lord.

Lus.So, give us leave. [ExitHippolito.] Welcome, be not far off; we must be better acquainted: pish, be bold with us—thy hand.

Ven.With all my heart, i' faith: how dost, sweet musk-cat?When shall we lie together?Lus.Wondrous knave,Gather him into boldness! 'sfoot, the slave'sAlready as familiar as an ague,And shakes me at his pleasure. Friend, I canForget myself in private; but elsewhereI pray do you remember me.Ven.O, very well, sir—I conster myself saucy.Lus.What hast been?Of what profession?Ven.A bone-setter.Lus.A bone-setter!Ven.A bawd, my lord—One that sets bones together.Lus.Notable bluntness!Fit, fit for me; e'en trained up to my hand:Thou hast been scrivener to much knavery, then?Ven.'Sfoot, to abundance, sir: I have been witnessTo the surrenders of a thousand virgins:And not so little;I have seen patrimonies washed a-pieces,Fruit-fields turned into bastards,And in a world of acresNot so much dust due to the heir 'twas left toAs would well gravel[190]a petition.Lus.Fine villain! troth, I like him wondrously:He's e'en shaped for my purpose. [Aside.] Then thou know'stI' th' world strange lust?Ven.O Dutch lust! fulsome lust!Drunken procreation! which begets so many drunkardsSome fathers dread not (gone to bed in wine) to slide from the mother,And cling[191]the daughter-in-law;Some uncles are adulterous with their nieces:Brothers with brothers' wives. O hour of incest!Any kin now, next to the rim o' th' sister,Is men's meat in these days; and in the morning,When they are up and dressed, and their mask on,Who can perceive this, save that eternal eye,That sees through flesh and all? Well, if anything be damned,It will be twelve o'clock at night; that twelveWill never 'scape;It is the Judas of the hours, whereinHonest salvation is betrayed to sin.Lus.In troth, it is true; but let this talk glide.It is our blood to err, though hell gape wide.Ladies know Lucifer fell, yet still are proud.Now, sir, wert thou as secret as thou'rt subtle,And deeply fathomed into all estates,I would embrace thee for a near employment;And thou shouldst swell in money, and be ableTo make lame beggars crouch to thee.Ven.My lord,Secret! I ne'er had that disease o' the mother,I praise my father: why are men made close,But to keep thoughts in best? I grant you this,Tell but some women a secret over night,Your doctor may find it in the urinal i' the morning.But, my lord—Lus.So thou'rt confirmed in me,And thus I enter thee. [Gives him money.Ven.This Indian devilWill quickly enter any man but a usurer;He prevents that by entering the devil first.Lus.Attend me. I am past my depth in lust,And I must swim or drown. All my desiresAre levelled at a virgin not far from court,To whom I have conveyed by messengerMany waxed lines, full of my neatest spirit,And jewels that were able to ravish herWithout the help of man; all which and moreShe (foolish chaste) sent back, the messengersReceiving frowns for answers.Ven.Possible!'Tis a rare Phœnix, whoe'er she be.If your desires be such, she so repugnant,In troth, my lord, I'd be revenged and marry her.Lus.Pish! the dowry of her blood and of her fortunesAre both too mean—good enough to be bad withal.I'm one of that number can defendMarriage is good; yet rather keep a friend.Give me my bed by stealth—there's true delight;What breeds a loathing in't, but night by night!Ven.A very fine religion!Lus.Therefore thusI'll trust thee in the business of my heart;Because I see thee well-experiencedIn this luxurious day wherein we breathe.Go thou, and with a smooth enchanting tongueBewitch her ears, and cosen her of all grace:Enter upon the portion[192]of her soul—Her honour, which she calls her chastity,And bring it into expense; for honestyIs like a stock of money laid to sleepWhich, ne'er so little broke, does never keep.Ven.You have gi'en't the tang,[193]i' faith, my lord:Make known the lady to me, and my brainShall swell with strange invention: I will move it,Till I expire with speaking, and drop downWithout a word to save me—but I'll work—Lus.We thank thee, and will raise thee.—Receive her name; it is the only daughter to MadamGratiana, the late widow.Ven.O my sister, my sister! [Aside.Lus.Why dost walk aside?Ven.My lord, I was thinking how I might begin:As thus, O lady—or twenty hundred devices—Her very bodkin will put a man in.Lus.Ay, or the wagging of her hair.Ven.No, that shall put you in, my lord.Lus.Shall't? why, content. Dost know the daughter then?Ven.O, excellent well by sight.Lus.That was her brother,That did prefer thee to us.Ven.My lord, I think so;I knew I had seen him somewhere—Lus.And therefore, prythee, let thy heart to himBe as a virgin close.Ven.O my good lord.Lus.We may laugh at that simple age within him.Ven.Ha, ha, ha!Lus.Himself being made the subtle instrument,To wind up a good fellow.[194]Ven.That's I, my lord.Lus.That's thou,To entice and work his sister.Ven.A pure novice!Lus.'Twas finely managed.Ven.Gallantly carried!A pretty perfumed villain!Lus.I've bethought me,If she prove chaste still and immovable,Venture upon the mother; and with gifts,As I will furnish thee, begin with her.

Ven.O, fie, fie! that's the wrong end my lord. 'Tis mere impossible that a mother, by any gifts, should become a bawd to her own daughter!

Lus.Nay, then, I see thou'rt but a puisne[195]In the subtle mystery of a woman.Why, 'tis held now no dainty dish: the nameIs so in league with the age, that nowadaysIt does eclipse three quarters of a mother.Ven.Does it so, my lord?Let me alone, then, to eclipse the fourth.Lus.Why, well-said—come, I'll furnish thee, but firstSwear to be true in all.

Ven.True!

Lus.Nay, but swear.

Ven.Swear?—I hope your honour little doubts my faith.

Lus.Yet, for my humour's sake, 'cause I love swearing—

Ven.'Cause you love swearing,—'slud,[196]I will.

Lus.Why, enough!Ere long look to be made of better stuff.Ven.That will do well indeed, my lord.Lus.Attend me. [Exit.Ven.O!Now let me burst. I've eaten noble poison;We are made strange fellows, brother, innocent villains!Wilt not be angry, when thou hear'st on't, think'st thou?I' faith, thou shalt: swear me to foul my sister!Sword, I durst make a promise of him to thee;Thou shalt disheir him; it shall be thine honour.And yet, now angry froth is down in me,It would not prove the meanest policy,In this disguise, to try the faith of both.Another might have had the selfsame office;Some slave that would have wrought effectually,Ay, and perhaps o'erwrought 'em; therefore I,Being thought travelled, will apply myselfUnto the selfsame form, forget my nature,As if no part about me were kin to 'em,So touch 'em;—though I durst almost for goodVenture my lands in Heaven upon their blood. [Exit.

EnterAntonio,whoseWifetheDuchess' Youngest Sonravished, discovering her dead body toHippolito, Piero,andLords.

Ant.Draw nearer, lords, and be sad witnessesOf a fair comely building newly fallen,Being falsely undermined. Violent rapeHas played a glorious act: behold, my lords,A sight that strikes man out of me.Piero.That virtuous lady!Ant.Precedent for wives!Hip.The blush of many women, whose chaste presenceWould e'en call shame up to their cheeks, and makePale wanton sinners have good colours—Ant.Dead!Her honour first drank poison, and her life,Being fellows in one house, did pledge her honour.Piero.O, grief of many!Ant.I marked not this before—A prayer-book, the pillow to her cheek:This was her rich confection; and anotherPlaced in her right hand, with a leaf tucked up,Pointing to these words;—Melius virtute mori, quam per dedecus vivere:True and effectual it is indeed.Hip.My lord, since you invite us to your sorrows,Let's truly taste 'em, that with equal comfort,As to ourselves, we may relieve your wrongs:We have grief too, that yet walks without tongue;Curæ leves loquuntur, majores stupent.Ant.You deal with truth, my lord;Lend me but your attentions, and I'll cutLong grief into short words. Last revelling night,When torch-light made an artificial noonAbout the court, some courtiers in the masque,Putting on better faces than their own,Being full of fraud and flattery—amongst whomThe duchess' youngest son (that moth to honour)Filled up a room, and with long lust to eatInto my warren, amongst all the ladiesSingled out that dear form, who ever livedAs cold in lust as she is now in death(Which that step-duchess' monster knew too well),And therefore in the height of all the revels,When music was heard loudest, courtiers busiest,And ladies great with laughter—O vicious minute!Unfit but for relation to be spoke of:Then with a face more impudent than his vizard,He harried her amidst a throng of panders,That live upon damnation of both kinds,And fed the ravenous vulture of his lust.O death to think on't! She, her honour forced,Deemed it a nobler dowry for her nameTo die with poison than to live with shame.Hip.A wondrous lady! of rare fire compact;She has made her name an empress by that act.Piero.My lord, what judgment follows the offender?Ant.Faith, none, my lord; it cools, and is deferred.Piero.Delay the doom for rape!Ant.O, you must note who 'tis should die,The duchess' son! she'll look to be a saver:"Judgment, in this age, is near kin to favour."Hip.Nay, then, step forth, thou bribeless officer:[Draws his sword.I'll bind you all in steel, to bind you surely;Here let your oaths meet, to be kept and paid,Which else will stick like rust, and shame the blade;Strengthen my vow that if, at the next sitting,Judgment speak all in gold, and spare the bloodOf such a serpent, e'en before their seatsTo let his soul out, which long since was foundGuilty in Heaven—All.We swear it, and will act it.Ant.Kind gentlemen, I thank you in mine ire.Hip.'Twere pityThe ruins of so fair a monumentShould not be dipped in the defacer's blood.Piero.Her funeral shall be wealthy; for her nameMerits a tomb of pearl. My Lord Antonio,For this time wipe your lady from your eyes;No doubt our grief and yours may one day court it,When we are more familiar with revenge.Ant.That is my comfort, gentlemen, and I joyIn this one happiness above the rest,Which will be called a miracle at last;That, being an old man, I'd a wife so chaste.[Exeunt.

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