Webster & Tourneur. John Webster

Med. So, 'twas well fitted: now shall we discern How his wished absence will give violent way To Duke Brachiano's lust. Mont. Why, that was it; To what scorned purpose else should we make choice Of him for a sea-captain? and, besides, Count Lodowick, which was rumoured for a pirate, Is now in Padua. Fran. de Med. Is't true? Mont. Most certain. I have letters from him, which are suppliant To work his quick repeal from banishment: He means to address himself for pension Unto our sister duchess. Fran. de Med. O, 'twas well: We shall not want his absence past six days. I fain would have the Duke Brachiano run Into notorious scandal; for there's naught In such cursed 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 wronged, durst not avenge himself. Fran. de Med. Come, to observe this strumpet. Mont. Curse of greatness! Sure he'll not leave her? Fran. de Med. There's small pity in't: Like misletoe on sear elms spent by weather, Let him cleave to her, and both rot together. [Exeunt.

      SCENE III.—A Room in the House of Camillo.

      Enter Brachiano, with a Conjurer.

      Brach. Now, sir, I claim your promise: 'tis dead midnight, The time prefixed to show me, by your art, How the intended murder of Camillo And our loathed 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, Which I would gladly lose, of necromancer; As some that use to juggle upon cards, 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 are Will keep a curtal[42] to show juggling tricks, And give out 'tis a spirit: besides these, Such a whole realm of almanac-makers, figure-flingers, 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 charmed; and now I'll show you, by my strong commanding art, The circumstance that breaks your duchess' heart.

      A Dumb Show.

      Enter suspiciously Julio and Christophero: they draw a curtain where Brachiano's picture is, put on spectacles of glass, which cover their eyes and noses, and then burn perfumes before the picture, and wash the lips; that done, quenching the fire, and putting off their spectacles, they depart laughing.

      Enter Isabella in her night-gown, as to bed-ward, with lights after her, Count Lodovico, Giovanni, Guidantonio, and others waiting on her: she kneels down as to prayers, then draws the curtain of the picture, does three reverences to it, and kisses it thrice; she faints, and will not suffer them to come near it; dies: sorrow expressed in Giovanni and Count Lodovico: she is conveyed out solemnly.

      Brach. Excellent! then she's dead. Con. She's poisonèd By the fumed picture. 'Twas her custom nightly, Before she went to bed, to go and visit Your picture, and to feed her eyes and lips On the dead shadow. Doctor Julio, Observing this, infects it with an oil And other poisoned stuff, which presently Did suffocate her spirits. Brach. Methought I saw Count Lodowick there. Con. He was: and by my art I find he did most passionately dote Upon your duchess. Now turn another way, And view Camillo's far more politic fate. Strike louder, music, from this charmèd ground, To yield, as fits the act, a tragic sound!

      The second Dumb Show.

      Enter Flamineo, Marcello, Camillo, with four others, as Captains; they drink healths, and dance: a vaulting-horse is brought into the room: Marcello and two others whispered out of the room, while Flamineo and Camillo strip themselves to their shirts, to vault; they compliment who shall begin: as Camillo is about to vault, Flamineo pitcheth him upon his neck, and, with the help of the rest, writhes his neck about; seems to see if it be broke, and lays him folded double, as it were, under the horse; makes signs to call for help: Marcello comes in, laments; sends for the Cardinal and Duke, who come forth with armed men; wonder at the act; command the body to be carried home; apprehend Flamineo, Marcello, and the rest, and go, as it were, to apprehend Vittoria.

      Brach. 'Twas quaintly done; but yet each circumstance I taste not fully. Con. O, 'twas most apparent: You saw them enter, charged 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; Whilst your eye saw the rest, and can inform you The engine of all. Brach. It seems Marcello and Flamineo Are both committed.[43] Con. Yes, you saw them guarded; And now they are come with purpose to apprehend Your mistress, fair Vittoria. We are now Beneath her roof: 'twere fit we instantly Make out by some back-postern. Brach. Noble friend, You bind me ever to you: this shall stand As the firm seal annexèd to my hand; It shall enforce a payment. Con. Sir, I thank you. [Exit Brachiano. Both flowers and weeds spring when the sun is warm, And great men do great good or else great harm. [Exit.

      SCENE IV.—The Mansion of Monticelso.

      Enter Francisco de Medicis and Monticelso, their Chancellor and Register.

      Fran. de Med. You have dealt discreetly, to obtain the presence Of all the grave lieger[44] ambassadors, To hear Vittoria's trial. Mont. 'Twas not ill; For, sir, you know we have naught 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 wonder If Brachiano will be here. Fran. de Med. O fie. Twere impudence too palpable. [Exeunt.

      Enter Flamineo and Marcello guarded, and a Lawyer.

      Law. What, are you in by the week? so, I will try now whether thy wit be close prisoner. Methinks none should sit upon thy sister but old whore-masters.

      Flam. Or cuckolds; for your cuckold is your most terrible tickler of lechery. Whore-masters would serve; for none are judges at tilting but those that have been old tilters.

      Law. My lord duke and she have been very private.

      Flam. You are a dull ass; 'tis threatened they have been very public.

      Law. If it can be proved they have but kissed one another—

      Flam. What then?

      Law. My lord cardinal will ferret them.

      Flam. A cardinal, I hope, will not catch conies.

      Law. 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.

      Law. Hark; the ambassadors are lighted.

      Flam. [Aside]. I do put on this feignèd garb of mirth To gull suspicion. Mar. O my unfortunate sister! I would my dagger-point had cleft her heart When 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, Follow'st the great duke, feed'st his victories, As witches do their serviceable spirits, Even with thy prodigal blood: what hast got, But, like the wealth of captains, a poor handful, Which in thy palm thou bear'st as men hold water? Seeking to gripe it fast, the frail reward Steals through thy fingers. Mar. Sir! Flam. Thou hast scarce maintenance To keep thee in fresh shamois.[45] Mar. Brother! Flam. Hear me:— And thus, when we have even poured ourselves Into great fights, for their ambition Or idle spleen,