Webster & Tourneur. John Webster

I hope you do not think— Cam. That noblemen bowl booty?[22] faith, his cheek Hath a most excellent bias; it would fain Jump with my mistress.[23] Flam. Will you be an ass, Despite your Aristotle? or a cuckold, Contrary to your Ephemerides, Which shows you under what a smiling planet You were first swaddled? Cam. Pew-wew, sir, tell not me Of planets nor of Ephemerides: A man may be made a cuckold in the day-time, When the stars' eyes are out. Flam. Sir, God b' wi' you; I do commit you to your pitiful pillow Stuffed with horn-shavings. Cam. Brother— Flam. God refuse me, Might I advise you now, your only course Were to lock up your wife. Cam. 'Twere very good. Flam. Bar her the sight of revels. Cam. Excellent. Flam. Let her not go to church, but like a hound In lyam[24] at your heels. Cam. 'Twere for her honour. Flam. And so you should be certain in one fortnight Despite her chastity or innocence, To be cuckolded, which yet is in suspense: This is my counsel, and I ask no fee for't. Cam. Come, you know not where my night-cap wrings me.

      Flam. Wear it o' the old fashion; let your large ears come through, it will be more easy:—nay, I will be bitter:—bar your wife of her entertainment: women are more willingly and more gloriously chaste when they are least restrained of their liberty. It seems you would be a fine capricious mathematically jealous coxcomb; take the height of your own horns with a Jacob's staff[25] afore they are up. These politic inclosures for paltry mutton make more rebellion in the flesh than all the provocative electuaries doctors have uttered[26] since last jubilee.

      Cam. This doth not physic me.

      Flam. It seems you are jealous: I'll show you the error of it by a familiar example. I have seen a pair of spectacles fashioned with such perspective art, that, lay down but one twelve pence o' the board, 'twill appear as if there were twenty; now, should you wear a pair of these spectacles, and see your wife tying her shoe, you would imagine twenty hands were taking up of your wife's clothes, and this would put you into a horrible causeless fury.

      Cam. The fault there, sir, is not in the eyesight.

      Flam. True; but they that have the yellow jaundice think all objects they look on to be yellow. Jealousy is worser; her fits present to a man, like so many bubbles in a bason of water, twenty several crabbed faces; many times makes his own shadow his cuckold-maker. See, she comes.

      Re-enter Vittoria Corombona.

      What reason have you to be jealous of this creature? what an ignorant ass or flattering knave might he be counted, that should write sonnets to her eyes, or call her brow the snow of Ida or ivory of Corinth, or compare her hair to the blackbird's bill, when 'tis liker the blackbird's feather! This is all; be wise, I will make you friends; and you shall go to bed together. Marry, look you, it shall not be your seeking; do you stand upon that by any means: walk you aloof; I would not have you seen in't. [Camillo retires.] Sister, my lord attends you in the banqueting-house. Your husband is wondrous discontented.

      Vit. Cor. I did nothing to displease him: I carved to him at supper-time.[27]

      Flam. You need not have carved him, in faith; they say he is a capon already. I must now seemingly fall out with you. Shall a gentleman so well descended as Camillo—a lousy slave, that within this twenty years rode with the black guard[28] in the duke's carriage, 'mongst spits and dripping-pans—

      Cam. Now he begins to tickle her.

      Flam. An excellent scholar—one that hath a head filled with calves-brains without any sage in them—come crouching in the hams to you for a night's lodging?—that hath an itch in's hams, which like the fire at the glass-house hath not gone out this seven years.—Is he not a courtly gentleman?—when he wears white satin, one would take him by his black muzzle to be no other creature than a maggot.—You are a goodly foil, I confess, well set out—but covered with a false stone, yon counterfeit diamond.[29]

      Cam. He will make her know what is in me.

      Flam. Come, my lord attends you; thou shalt go to bed to my lord—

      Cam. Now he comes to't.

      Flam. With a relish as curious as a vintner going to taste new wine.—I am opening your case hard. [To Camillo.

      Cam. A virtuous brother, o' my credit!

      Flam. He will give thee a ring with a philosopher's stone in it.

      Cam. Indeed, I am studying alchymy.

      Flam. Thou shalt lie in a bed stuffed with turtles' feathers; swoon in perfumed linen, like the fellow was smothered in roses. So perfect shall be thy happiness, that, as men at sea think land and trees and ships go that way they go, so both Heaven and earth shall seem to go your voyage. Shall't meet him; 'tis fixed with nails of diamonds to inevitable necessity.

      Vit. Cor. How shall's rid him hence?

      Flam. I will put the breeze in's tail—set him gadding presently.—[To Camillo] I have almost wrought her to it, I find her coming: but, might I advise you now, for this night I would not lie with her; I would cross her humour to make her more humble.

      Cam. Shall I, shall I?

      Flam. It will show in you a supremacy of judgment.

      Cam. True, and a mind differing from the tumultuary opinion; for, quæ negata, grata.

      Flam. Right: you are the adamant[30] shall draw her to you, though you keep distance off.

      Cam. A philosophical reason.

      Flam. Walk by her o' the nobleman's fashion, and tell her you will lie with her at the end of the progress.[31]

      Cam. [Coming forward.] Vittoria, I cannot be induced, or, as a man would say, incited—

      Vit. Cor. To do what, sir?

      Cam. To lie with you to-night. Your silkworm useth to fast every third day, and the next following spins the better. To-morrow at night I am for you.

      Vit. Cor. You'll spin a fair thread, trust to't.

      Flam. But, do you hear, I shall have you steal to her chamber about midnight.

      

      Cam. Do you think so? why, look you, brother, because you shall not think I'll gull you, take the key, lock me into the chamber, and say you shall be sure of me.

      Flam. In troth, I will; I'll be your gaoler once. But have you ne'er a false door?

      Cam. A pox on't, as I am a Christian. Tell me to-morrow how scurvily she takes my unkind parting.

      Flam. I will.

      Cam. Didst thou not mark the jest of the silkworm? Good-night: in faith, I will use this trick often.

      Flam. Do, do, do. [Exit Camillo; and Flamineo locks the door on him.] So now you are safe.—Ha, ha, ha! thou entanglest thyself in thine own work like a silkworm. Come, sister; darkness hides your blush. Women are like curst dogs: civility keeps them tied all daytime, but they are let loose at midnight; then they do most good, or most mischief.—My lord, my lord!

      Re-enter Brachiano. Zanche brings out a carpet, spreads it, and lays on it two fair cushions.

      Brach. Give credit, I could wish time would stand still, And never end this interview, this hour: But all delight doth itself soon'st devour.

      Enter Cornelia behind, listening.

      Let me into your bosom, happy lady,

       Pour out, instead of eloquence, my vows:

       Loose me not, madam; for, if you forego me,

       I am lost eternally.

       Vit. Cor. Sir, in the way of pity, I wish you