ACT THE FOURTH.
SCENE I.—The precincts of the Palace.
Enter Lussurioso with Hippolito.
Lus. Hippolito!
Hip. My lord,
Has your good lordship aught to command me in?
Lus. I prythee, leave us!
Hip. How's this? come and leave us!
Lus. Hippolito!
Hip. Your honour, I stand ready for any duteous employment.
Lus. Heart! what mak'st thou here?
Hip. A pretty lordly humour!
He bids me be present to depart; something
Has stung his honour.
Lus. Be nearer; draw nearer:
Ye're not so good, methinks; I'm angry with you.
Hip. With me, my lord? I'm angry with myself for't.
Lus. You did prefer a goodly fellow to me:
'Twas wittily elected; 'twas. I thought
He had been a villain, and he proves a knave—
To me a knave.
Hip. I chose him for the best, my lord:
'Tis much my sorrow, if neglect in him
Breed discontent in you.
Lus. Neglect! 'twas will. Judge of it.
Firmly to tell of an incredible act,
Not to be thought, less to be spoken of,
'Twixt my step-mother and the bastard; oh!
Incestuous sweets between 'em.
Hip. Fie, my lord!
Lus. I, in kind loyalty to my father's forehead,
Made this a desperate arm; and in that fury
Committed treason on the lawful bed,
And with my sword e'en rased my father's bosom,
For which I was within a stroke of death.
Hip. Alack! I'm sorry. 'Sfoot, just upon the stroke,
Jars in my brother; 'twill be villainous music.
[Aside.
Enter Vendice, disguised.
Ven. My honoured lord.
Lus. Away! prythee, forsake us: hereafter we'll not know thee.
Ven. Not know me, my lord! your lordship cannot choose.
Lus. Begone, I say: thou art a false knave.
Ven. Why, the easier to be known, my lord.
Lus. Pish! I shall prove too bitter, with a word
Make thee a perpetual prisoner,
And lay this iron age upon thee.
Ven. Mum!
For there's a doom would make a woman dumb.
Missing the bastard—next him—the wind's come about:
Now 'tis my brother's turn to stay, mine to go out.
[Aside. Exit.
Lus. He has greatly moved me.
Hip. Much to blame, i' faith.
Lus. But I'll recover, to his ruin. 'Twas told me lately,
I know not whether falsely, that you'd a brother.
Hip. Who, I? yes, my good lord, I have a brother.
Lus. How chance the court ne'er saw him? of what nature?
How does he apply his hours?
Hip. Faith, to curse fates
Who, as he thinks, ordained him to be poor—
Keeps at home, full of want and discontent.
Lus. There's hope in him; for discontent and want
Is the best clay to mould a villain of. [Aside.
Hippolito, wish him repair to us:
If there be ought in him to please our blood,
For thy sake we'll advance him, and build fair
His meanest fortunes; for it is in us
To rear up towers from cottages.
Hip. It is so, my lord: he will attend your honour;
But he's a man in whom much melancholy dwells.
Lus. Why, the better; bring him to court.
Hip. With willingness and speed:
Whom he cast off e'en now, must now succeed.
Brother, disguise must off;
In thine own shape now I'll prefer thee to him:
How strangely does himself work to undo him!
[Aside. Exit.
Lus. This fellow will come fitly; he shall kill
That other slave, that did abuse my spleen,
And made it swell to treason. I have put
Much of my heart into him; he must die.
He that knows great men's secrets, and proves slight,[221]
That man ne'er lives to see his beard turn white.
Ay, he shall speed him: I'll employ the brother;
Slaves are but nails to drive out one another.
He being of black condition, suitable
To want and ill-content, hope of preferment
Will grind him to an edge.
Enter Nobles.
1st Noble. Good days unto your honour.
Lus. My kind lords, I do return the like.
2nd Noble. Saw you my lord the duke?
Lus. My lord and father! is he from court?
1st Noble. He's sure from court;
But where—which way his pleasure took, we know not,
Nor can we hear on't.
Lus. Here come those should tell.
Saw you my lord and father?
3rd Noble. Not since two hours before noon, my lord,
And then he privately rode forth.
Lus. O, he's rid forth.
1st Noble. 'Twas wondrous privately.
2nd Noble. There's none i' th' court had any knowledge on't.
Lus. His grace is old and sudden: 'tis no treason
To say the duke, my father, has a humour,
Or such a toy about him; what in us
Would appear light, in him seems virtuous.
3rd Noble. 'Tis oracle, my lord. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.—An Apartment in the Palace.
Enter Vendice, out of his disguise, and Hippolito.
Hip. So, so, all's as it should be, y'are yourself.
Ven. How that great villain puts me to my shifts!
Hip. He that did lately in disguise reject thee,
Shall, now thou art thyself, as much respect thee.
Ven. 'Twill be the quainter fallacy. But, brother,
'Sfoot, what use will he put me to now, think'st thou?
Hip. Nay, you must pardon me in that: I know not.
He has some employment for you: but what 'tis,
He and his secretary (the devil) know best.
Ven. Well, I must suit my tongue to his desires,
What colour soe'er they be; hoping at last
To pile up all my wishes on his breast.
Hip. Faith, brother, he himself shows the way.
Ven. Now the duke is dead, the realm is clad in clay.
His death being not yet known, under his name
The people still are governed. Well, thou his son
Art not long-lived: thou shalt not joy his death.
To kill thee, then, I should most honour thee;
For 'twould stand firm in every man's belief,
Thou'st a kind child, and only died'st with grief.
Hip. You fetch about well; but let's talk in present.
How will you appear in fashion different,
As well as in apparel, to make all things possible?
If you be but once tripped, we fall for ever.
It is not the least policy to be doubtful;
You must change tongue: familiar was your first.
Ven. Why, I'll bear me in some strain of melancholy,
And string myself with heavy-sounding wire,
Like such an instrument, that speaks merry things sadly.
Hip. Then 'tis as I meant;
I gave you out at first in discontent.
Ven. I'll tune myself, and then—
Hip. 'Sfoot, here he comes. Hast thought upon't?
Ven. Salute him; fear not me.
Enter Lussurioso.
Lus. Hippolito!
Hip. Your lordship—
Lus. What's he yonder?
Hip. 'Tis Vendice, my discontented brother,
Whom, 'cording to your will, I've brought to court.
Lus. Is that thy brother? Beshrew me, a good presence;
I wonder he has been from the court so long.
Come nearer.
Hip. Brother! Lord Lussurioso, the duke's son.
Lus. Be more near to us; welcome; nearer yet.
Ven. How don you? gi' you good den.
[Takes off his hat and bows.
Lus. We thank thee.
How strangely such a coarse homely salute
Shows in the palace, where we greet in fire,
Nimble and desperate tongues! should we name
God in a salutation, 'twould ne'er be stood on;—Heaven!
Tell me, what has made thee so melancholy?
Ven. Why, going to law.
Lus. Why, will that make a man melancholy?
Ven. Yes, to look long upon ink and black buckram. I went me to law in anno quadragesimo secundo, and I waded out of it in anno sexagesimo tertio.
Lus. What, three-and-twenty years in law?
Ven. I have known those that have been five-and-fifty, and all about pullen[222] and pigs.
Lus. May it be possible such men should breathe,
To vex the terms so much?
Ven. 'Tis food to some, my lord. There are old men at the present, that are so poisoned with the affectation of law-words (having had many suits canvassed), that their common talk is nothing but Barbary Latin. They cannot so much as pray but in law, that their sins may be removed with a writ of error, and their souls fetched up to Heaven with a sasarara.[223]
Lus. It seems most strange to me;
Yet all the world meets round in the same bent:
Where the heart's set, there goes the tongue's consent.
How dost apply thy studies, fellow?
Ven. Study? why, to think how a great rich man lies a-dying, and a poor cobbler tolls the bell for him. How he cannot depart the world, and see the great chest stand before him; when he lies speechless, how he will point you readily to all the boxes; and when he is past all memory, as the gossips guess, then thinks he of forfeitures and obligations; nay, when to all men's hearings he whurls and rattles in the throat, he's busy threatening his poor tenants. And this would last me now some seven years' thinking, or thereabouts. But I have a conceit a-coming in picture upon this; I draw it myself, which, i' faith, la, I'll present to your honour; you shall not choose but like it, for your honour shall give me nothing for it.
Lus. Nay, you mistake me, then,
For I am published bountiful enough.
Let's taste of your conceit.
Ven. In picture, my Lord?
Lus. Ay, in picture.
Ven. Marry, this it is—"A usuring father to be boiling in hell, and his son and heir with a whore dancing over him."
Hip. He has pared him to the quick. [Aside.
Lus. The conceit's pretty, i' faith;
But, take't upon my life, 'twill ne'er be liked.
Ven. No? why I'm sure the whore will be liked well enough.
Hip. Aye, if she were out o' the picture, he'd like her then himself. [Aside.
Ven. And as for the son and heir, he shall be an eyesore to no young revellers, for he shall be drawn in cloth-of-gold breeches.
Lus. And thou hast put my meaning in the pockets,
And canst not draw that out? My thought was this:
To see the picture of a usuring father
Boiling in hell—our rich men would never like it.
Ven. O, true, I cry you heartily mercy,
I know the reason, for some of them had rather
Be damned in deed than damned in colours.
Lus. A parlous melancholy! he has wit enough
To murder any man, and I'll give him means. [Aside.
I think thou art ill-moneyed?
Ven. Money! ho, ho!
'T has been my want so long, 'tis now my scoff:
I've e'en forgot what colour silver's of.
Lus. It hits as I could wish. [Aside.
Ven. I get good clothes
Of those that dread my humour; and for table-room
I feed on those that cannot be rid of me.
Lus. Somewhat to set thee up withal.
[Gives him money.
Ven. O mine eyes!
Lus. How now, man?
Ven. Almost struck blind;
This bright unusual shine to me seems proud;
I dare not look till the sun be in a cloud.
Lus. I think I shall affect[224] his melancholy,
How are they now?
Ven. The better for your asking.
Lus. You shall be better yet, if you but fasten
Truly on my intent. Now y'are both present,
I will unbrace such a close private villain
Unto your vengeful swords, the like ne'er heard of,
Who hath disgraced you much, and injured us.
Hip. Disgraced us, my lord?
Lus. Ay, Hippolito.
I kept it here till now, that both your angers
Might meet him at once.
Ven. I'm covetous
To know the villain.
Lus. You know him: that slave-pander,
Piato, whom we threatened last
With irons in perpetual 'prisonment.
Ven. All this is I. [Aside.
Hip. Is't he, my lord?
Lus. I'll tell you; you first preferred him to me.
Ven. Did you, brother?
Hip. I did indeed.
Lus. And the ungrateful villain,
To quit that kindness, strongly wrought with me—
Being, as you see, a likely man for pleasure—
With jewels to corrupt your virgin sister.
Hip. O villain!
Ven. He shall surely die that did it.
Lus. I, far from thinking any virgin harm,
Especially knowing her to be as chaste
As that part which scarce suffers to be touched—
The eye—would not endure him.
Ven. Would you not, my lord?
'Twas wondrous honourably done.
Lus. But with some fine frowns kept him out.
Ven. Out, slave!
Lus. What did me he, but in revenge of that,
Went of his own free will to make infirm
Your sister's honour (whom I honour with my soul
For chaste respect) and not prevailing there
(As 'twas but desperate folly to attempt it),
In mere spleen, by the way, waylays your mother,
Whose honour being a coward as it seems,
Yielded by little force.
Ven. Coward indeed!
Lus. He, proud of this advantage (as he thought),
Brought me this news for happy. But I, Heaven forgive me for't!—
Ven. What did your honour?
Lus. In rage pushed him from me,
Trampled beneath his throat, spurned him, and bruised:
Indeed I was too cruel, to say troth.
Hip. Most nobly managed!
Ven. Has not Heaven an ear? is all the lightning wasted?
[Aside.
Lus. If I now were so impatient in a modest cause,
What should you be?
Ven. Full mad: he shall not live
To see the moon change.
Lus. He's about the palace;
Hippolito, entice him this way, that thy brother
May take full mark of him.
Hip. Heart! that shall not need, my lord:
I can direct him so far.
Lus. Yet for my hate's sake,
Go, wind him this way. I'll see him bleed myself.
Hip. What now, brother? [Aside.
Ven. Nay, e'en what you will—y'are put to't, brother.
[Aside.
Hip. An impossible task, I'll swear,
To bring him hither, that's already here.
[Aside and Exit.
Lus. Thy name? I have forgot it.
Ven. Vendice, my lord.
Lus. 'Tis a good name that.
Ven. Ay, a revenger.
Lus. It does betoken courage; thou shouldst be valiant,
And kill thine enemies.
Ven. That's my hope, my lord.
Lus. This slave is one.
Ven. I'll doom him.
Lus. Then I'll praise thee.
Do thou observe me best, and I'll best raise thee.
Re-enter Hippolito.
Ven. Indeed, I thank you.
Lus. Now, Hippolito, where's the slave-pander?
Hip. Your good lordship
Would have a loathsome sight of him, much offensive.
He's not in case now to be seen, my lord.
The worst of all the deadly sins is in him—
That beggarly damnation, drunkenness.
Lus. Then he's a double slave.
Ven. 'Twas well conveyed upon a sudden wit.
[Aside.
Lus. What, are you both
Firmly resolved? I'll see him dead myself.
Ven. Or else let not us live.
Lus. You may direct your brother to take note of him.
Hip. I shall.
Lus. Rise but in this, and you shall never fall.
Ven. Your honour's vassals.
Lus. This was wisely carried. [Aside.
Deep policy in us makes fools of such:
Then must a slave die, when he knows too much.
[Exit.
Ven. O thou almighty patience! 'tis my wonder
That such a fellow, impudent and wicked,
Should not be cloven as he stood;
Or with a secret wind burst open!
Is there no thunder left: or is't kept up
In stock for heavier vengeance? [Thunder] there it goes!
Hip. Brother, we lose ourselves.
Ven. But I have found it;
'Twill hold, 'tis sure; thanks, thanks to any spirit,
That mingled it 'mongst my inventions.
Hip. What is't?
Ven. 'Tis sound and good; thou shalt partake it;
I'm hired to kill myself.
Hip. True.
Ven. Prythee, mark it;
And the old duke being dead, but not conveyed,
For he's already missed too, and you know
Murder will peep out of the closest husk—
Hip. Most true.
Ven. What say you then to this device?
If we dressed up the body of the duke?
Hip. In that disguise of yours?
Ven. Y'are quick, y' have reached it.
Hip. I like it wondrously.
Ven. And being in drink, as you have published him.
To lean him on his elbow, as if sleep had caught him,
Which claims most interest in such sluggy men?
Hip. Good yet; but here's a doubt;
We, thought by the duke's son to kill that pander,
Shall, when he is known, be thought to kill the duke.
Ven. Neither, O thanks! it is substantial:
For that disguise being on him which I wore,
It will be thought I, which he calls the pander, did
kill the duke, and fled away in his apparel, leaving
him so disguised to avoid swift pursuit.
Hip. Firmer and firmer.
Ven. Nay, doubt not, 'tis in grain: I warrant it holds colour.
Hip. Let's about it.
Ven. By the way, too, now I think on't, brother,
Let's conjure that base devil out of our mother.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.—A Corridor in the Palace.
Enter the Duchess, arm in arm with Spurio, looking lasciviously on her. After them, enter Supervacuo, with a rapier, running; Ambitioso stops him.
Spu. Madam, unlock yourself;
Should it be seen, your arm would be suspected.
Duch. Who is't that dares suspect or this or these?
May not we deal our favours where we please?
Spu. I'm confident you may.
[Exeunt Duchess and Spurio.
Amb. 'Sfoot, brother, hold.
Sup. Wouldst let the bastard shame us?
Amb. Hold, hold, brother! there's fitter time than now.
Sup. Now, when I see it!
Amb. 'Tis too much seen already.
Sup. Seen and known;
The nobler she's, the baser is she grown.
Amb. If she were bent lasciviously (the fault
Of mighty women, that sleep soft)—O death!
Must she needs choose such an unequal sinner,
To make all worse?—
Sup. A bastard! the duke's bastard! shame heaped on shame!
Amb. O our disgrace!
Most women have small waists the world throughout;
But their desires are thousand miles about.
Sup. Come, stay not here, let's after, and prevent,
Or else they'll sin faster than we'll repent. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.—A Room in Gratiana's House.
Enter Vendice and Hippolito, bringing out Gratiana by the shoulders, and with daggers in their hands.
Ven. O thou, for whom no name is bad enough!
Gra. What mean my sons? what, will you murder me?
Ven. Wicked, unnatural parent!
Hip. Fiend of women!
Gra. O! are sons turned monsters? help!
Ven. In vain.
Gra. Are you so barbarous to set iron nipples
Upon the breast that gave you suck?
Ven. That breast
Is turned to quarled[225] poison.
Gra. Cut not your days for't! am not I your mother?[226]
Ven. Thou dost usurp that title now by fraud,
For in that shell of mother breeds a bawd.
Gra. A bawd! O name far loathsomer than hell!
Hip. It should be so, knew'st thou thy office well.
Gra. I hate it.
Ven. Ah! is't possible? thou only? Powers on high,
That women should dissemble when they die!
Gra. Dissemble!
Ven. Did not the duke's son direct
A fellow of the world's condition hither,
That did corrupt all that was good in thee?
Made thee uncivilly forget thyself,
And work our sister to his lust?
Gra. Who, I?
That had been monstrous. I defy that man
For any such intent! none lives so pure,
But shall be soiled with slander. Good son, believe it not.
Ven. O, I'm in doubt,
Whether I am myself, or no—[Aside.
Stay, let me look again upon this face.
Who shall be saved, when mothers have no grace?
Hip. 'Twould make one half despair.
Ven. I was the man.
Defy me now; let's see, do't modestly.
Gra. O hell unto my soul!
Ven. In that disguise, I, sent from the duke's son,
Tried you, and found you base metal,
As any villain might have done.
Gra. O, no,
No tongue but yours could have bewitched me so.
Ven. O nimble in damnation, quick in tune!
There is no devil could strike fire so soon:
I am confuted in a word.
Gra. O sons, forgive me! to myself I'll prove more true;
You that should honour me, I kneel to you.
[Kneels and weeps.
Ven. A mother to give aim to her own daughter![227]
Hip. True, brother; how far beyond nature 'tis.
Ven. Nay, an you draw tears once, go you to bed;
We will make iron blush and change to red.
Brother, it rains. 'Twill spoil your dagger: house it.
Hip. 'Tis done.
Ven. I' faith, 'tis a sweet shower, it does much good.
The fruitful grounds and meadows of her soul
Have been long dry: pour down, thou blessed dew!
Rise, mother; troth, this shower has made you higher!
Gra. O you Heavens! take this infectious spot out of my soul,
I'll rinse it in seven waters of mine eyes!
Make my tears salt enough to taste of grace.
To weep is to our sex naturally given:
But to weep truly, that's a gift from Heaven.
Ven. Nay, I'll kiss you now. Kiss her, brother:
Let's marry her to our souls, wherein's no lust,
And honourably love her.
Hip. Let it be.
Ven. For honest women are so seld and rare,
'Tis good to cherish those poor few that are.
O you of easy wax! do but imagine
Now the disease has left you, how leprously
That office would have clinged unto your forehead!
All mothers that had any graceful hue
Would have worn masks to hide their face at you:
It would have grown to this—at your foul name,
Green-coloured maids would have turned red with shame.
Hip. And then our sister, full of hire and baseness—
Ven. There had been boiling lead again,
The duke's son's great concubine!
A drab of state, a cloth-o'-silver slut,
To have her train borne up, and her soul trail i' the dirt!
Hip. Great, to be miserably great; rich, to be eternally wretched.
Ven. O common madness!
Ask but the thrivingest harlot in cold blood,
She'd give the world to make her honour good.
Perhaps you'll say, but only to the duke's son
In private; why she first begins with one,
Who afterward to thousands prove a whore:
"Break ice in one place, it will crack in more."
Gra. Most certainly applied!
Hip. O brother, you forget our business.
Ven. And well-remembered; joy's a subtle elf,
I think man's happiest when he forgets himself.
Farewell, once dry, now holy-watered mead;
Our hearts wear feathers, that before wore lead.
Gra. I'll give you this—that one I never knew
Plead better for and 'gainst the devil than you.
Ven. You make me proud on't.
Hip. Commend us in all virtue to our sister.
Ven. Ay, for the love of Heaven, to that true maid.
Gra. With my best words.
Ven. Why, that was motherly said.[228]
[Exeunt Vendice and Hippolito.
Gra. I wonder now, what fury did transport me!
I feel good thoughts begin to settle in me.
O, with what forehead can I look on her,
Whose honour I've so impiously beset?
And here she comes—
Enter Castiza.
Cas. Now, mother, you have wrought with me so strongly
That what for my advancement, as to calm
The trouble of your tongue, I am content.
Gra. Content, to what?
Cas. To do as you have wished me;
To prostitute my breast to the duke's son;
And put myself to common usury.
Gra. I hope you will not so!
Cas. Hope you I will not?
That's not the hope you look to be saved in.
Gra. Truth, but it is.
Cas. Do not deceive yourself;
I am as you, e'en out of marble wrought.
What would you now? are ye not pleased yet with me?
You shall not wish me to be more lascivious
Than I intend to be.
Gra. Strike not me cold.
Cas. How often have you charged me on your blessing
To be a cursèd woman? When you knew
Your blessing had no force to make me lewd,
You laid your curse upon me: that did more,
The mother's curse is heavy; where that fights,
Suns set in storm, and daughters lose their lights.
Gra. Good child, dear maid, if there be any spark
Of heavenly intellectual fire within thee,
O, let my breath revive it to a flame!
Put not all out with woman's wilful follies.
I am recovered of that foul disease,
That haunts too many mothers; kind, forgive me,
Make me not sick in health! If then
My words prevailed, when they were wickedness,
How much more now, when they are just and good?
Cas. I wonder what you mean! are not you she,
For whose infect persuasions I could scarce
Kneel out my prayers, and had much ado
In three hours' reading to untwist so much
Of the black serpent as you wound about me?
Gra. 'Tis unfruitful, child, and tedious to repeat
What's past; I'm now your present mother.
Cas. Tush! now 'tis too late.
Gra. Bethink again: thou know'st not what thou say'st.
Cas. No! deny advancement? treasure? the duke's son?
Gra. O, see! I spoke those words, and now they poison me!
What will the deed do then?
Advancement? true; as high as shame can pitch!
For treasure; who e'er knew a harlot rich?
Or could build by the purchase of her sin
An hospital to keep her bastards in?
The duke's son! O, when women are young courtiers,
They are sure to be old beggars;
To know the miseries most harlots taste,
Thou'dst wish thyself unborn, when thou art unchaste.
Cas. O mother, let me twine about your neck,
And kiss you, till my soul melt on your lips!
I did but this to try you.
Gra. O, speak truth!
Cas. Indeed I did but; for no tongue has force
To alter me from honest.
If maidens would, men's words could have no power;
A virgin's honour is a crystal tower
Which (being weak) is guarded with good spirits;
Until she basely yields, no ill inherits.
Gra, O happy child! faith, and thy birth hath saved me.
'Mong thousand daughters, happiest of all others:
Be thou a glass for maids, and I for mothers.
[Exeunt.
ACT THE FIFTH.
SCENE I.—A Room in the Lodge. The Duke's corpse, dressed in Vendice's disguise, lying on a couch.
Enter Vendice and Hippolito.
Ven. So, so, he leans well; take heed you wake him not, brother.
Hip. I warrant you my life for yours.
Ven. That's a good lay, for I
must kill myself.
Brother, that's I, that sits for me:
do you mark it? And I must stand ready here to
make away myself yonder. I must sit to be killed,
and stand to kill myself. I could vary it not so little
as thrice over again; 't has some eight returns, like
Michaelmas term.[229]
Hip. That's enow, o' conscience.
Ven. But, sirrah, does the duke's son come single?
Hip. No; there's the hell on't: his faith's too feeble to go alone. He brings flesh-flies after him, that will buzz against supper-time, and hum for his coming out.
Ven. Ah, the fly-flap of vengeance beat 'em to pieces! Here was the sweetest occasion, the fittest hour, to have made my revenge familiar with him; show him the body of the duke his father, and how quaintly he died, like a politician, in hugger-mugger,[230] made no man acquainted with it; and in catastrophe slay him over his father's breast. O, I'm mad to lose such a sweet opportunity!
Hip. Nay, tush! prythee, be content! there's no remedy present; may not hereafter times open in as fair faces as this?
Ven. They may, if they can paint so well.
Hip. Come now: to avoid all suspicion, let's forsake this room, and be going to meet the duke's son.
Ven. Content: I'm for any weather. Heart! step close: here he comes.
Enter Lussurioso.
Hip. My honoured lord!
Lus. O me! you both present?
Ven. E'en newly, my lord, just as your lordship entered now: about this place we had notice given he should be, but in some loathsome plight or other.
Hip. Came your honour private?
Lus. Private enough for this; only a few
Attend my coming out.
Hip. Death rot those few! [Aside.
Lus. Stay, yonder's the slave.
Ven. Mass, there's the slave, indeed, my lord.
'Tis a good child: he calls his father a slave! [Aside.
Lus. Ay, that's the villain, the damned villain.
Softly. Tread easy.
Ven. Pah! I warrant you, my lord, we'll stifle in
our breaths.
Lus. That will do well:
Base rogue, thou sleepest thy last; 'tis policy
To have him killed in's sleep; for if he waked,
He would betray all to them.
Ven. But, my lord—
Lus. Ha, what say'st?
Ven. Shall we kill him now he's drunk?
Lus. Ay, best of all.
Ven. Why, then he will ne'er live to be sober.
Lus. No matter, let him reel to hell.
Ven. But being so full of liquor, I fear he will put out all the fire.
Lus. Thou art a mad beast.
Ven. And leave none to warm your lordship's golls[231] withal; for he that dies drunk falls into hell-fire like a bucket of water—qush, qush!
Lus. Come, be ready: nake[232] your swords: think of your wrongs; this slave has injured you.
Ven. Troth, so he has, and he has paid well for't.
Lus. Meet with him now.
Ven. You'll bear us out, my lord?
Lus. Pooh! am I a lord for nothing, think you? quickly now!
Ven. Sa, sa, sa, thump [Stabs the Duke's corpse]—there he lies.
Lus. Nimbly done.—Ha! O villains! murderers!
'Tis the old duke, my father.
Ven. That's a jest.
Lus. What stiff and cold already!
O, pardon me to call you from your names:
'Tis none of your deed. That villain Piato,
Whom you thought now to kill, has murdered
And left him thus disguised.
Hip. And not unlikely.
Ven. O rascal! was he not ashamed
To put the duke into a greasy doublet?
Lus. He has been stiff and cold—who knows how long?
Ven. Marry, that I do. [Aside.
Lus. No words, I pray, of anything intended.
Ven. O my lord.
Hip. I would fain have your lordship think that we have small reason to prate.
Lus. Faith, thou say'st true; I'll forthwith send to court
For all the nobles, bastard, duchess; tell,
How here by miracle we found him dead,
And in his raiment that foul villain fled.
Ven. That will be the best way, my lord,
To clear us all; let's cast about to be clear.
Lus. Ho! Nencio, Sordido, and the rest!
Enter all of them.
1st Ser. My lord.
2nd Ser. My lord.
Lus. Be witnesses of a strange spectacle.
Choosing for private conference that sad room,
We found the duke my father gealed in blood.
1st Ser. My lord the duke! run, hie thee, Nencio.
Startle the court by signifying so much.
Ven. Thus much by wit a deep revenger can,
When murder's known, to be the clearest man.
We're farthest off, and with as bold an eye
Survey his body as the standers-by. [Aside.
Lus. My royal father, too basely let blood
By a malevolent slave!
Hip. Hark! he calls thee slave again. [Aside.
Ven. He has lost: he may. [Aside.
Lus. O sight! look hither, see, his lips are gnawn
With poison.
Ven. How! his lips? by the mass, they be.
O villain! O rogue! O slave! O rascal!
Hip. O good deceit! he quits him with like terms.
[Aside.
Amb. [Within.] Where?
Sup. [Within.] Which way?
Enter Ambitioso and Supervacuo, with Nobles and Gentlemen.
Amb. Over what roof hangs this prodigious comet
In deadly fire?
Lus. Behold, behold, my lords, the duke my father's murdered by a vassal that owes this habit, and here left disguised.
Enter Duchess and Spurio.
Duch. My lord and husband!
1st Noble. Reverend majesty!
2nd Noble. I have seen these clothes often attending on him.
Ven. That nobleman has been' i' th' country, for he does not lie.
[Aside.
Sup. Learn of our mother; let's dissemble too:
I am glad he's vanished; so, I hope, are you.
Amb. Ay, you may take my word for't.
Spu. Old dad dead!
I, one of his cast sins, will send the Fates
Most hearty commendations by his own son;
I'll tug in the new stream, till strength be done.
Lus. Where be those two that did affirm to us,
My lord the duke was privately rid forth?
1st Gent. O, pardon us, my lords; he gave that charge—
Upon our lives, if he were missed at court,
To answer so; he rode not anywhere;
We left him private with that fellow here.
Ven. Confirmed. [Aside.
Lus. O Heavens! that false charge was his death.
Impudent beggars! durst you to our face
Maintain such a false answer? Bear him straight
To execution.
1st Gent. My lord!
Lus. Urge me no more in this!
The excuse may be called half the murder.
Ven. You've sentenced well. [Aside.
Lus. Away; see it be done.
Ven. Could you not stick? See what confession doth!
Who would not lie, when men are hanged for truth?
[Aside.
Hip. Brother, how happy is our vengeance! [Aside.
Ven. Why, it hits past the apprehension of
Indifferent wits. [Aside.
Lus. My lord, let post-horses be sent
Into all places to entrap the villain.
Ven. Post-horses, ha, ha! [Aside.
1st Noble. My lord, we're something bold to know our duty.
Your father's accidentally departed;
The titles that were due to him meet you.
Lus. Meet me! I'm not at leisure, my good lord.
I've many griefs to despatch out o' the way.
Welcome, sweet titles!—[Aside.
Talk to me, my lords,
Of sepulchres and mighty emperors' bones;
That's thought for me.
Ven. So one may see by this
How foreign markets go;
Courtiers have feet o' the nines, and tongues o' the twelves;
They flatter dukes, and dukes flatter themselves. [Aside.
2nd Noble. My lord, it is your shine must comfort us.
Lus. Alas! I shine in tears, like the sun in April.
1st Noble. You're now my lord's grace.
Lus. My lord's grace! I perceive you'll have it so.
2nd Noble. 'Tis but your own.
Lus. Then, Heavens, give me grace to be so!
Ven. He prays well for himself. [Aside.
1st Noble. Madam, all sorrows
Must run their circles into joys. No doubt but time
Will make the murderer bring forth himself.
Ven. He were an ass then, i' faith. [Aside.
1st Noble. In the mean season,
Let us bethink the latest funeral honours
Due to the duke's cold body. And withal,
Calling to memory our new happiness
Speed in his royal son: lords, gentlemen,
Prepare for revels.
Ven. Revels! [Aside.
1st Noble. Time hath several falls.
Griefs lift up joys: feasts put down funerals.
Lus. Come then, my lords, my favour's to you all.
The duchess is suspected foully bent;
I'll begin dukedom with her banishment. [Aside.
[Exeunt Lussurioso, Duchess, and Nobles.
Hip. Revels!
Ven. Ay, that's the word: we are firm yet;
Strike one strain more, and then we crown our wit.
[Exeunt Vendice and Hippolito.
Spu. Well, have at the fairest mark—so said the duke when he begot me;
And if I miss his heart, or near about,
Then have at any; a bastard scorns to be out. [Exit.
Sup. Notest thou that Spurio, brother?
Ant. Yes, I note him to our shame.
Sup. He shall not live: his hair shall not grow
much longer. In this time of revels, tricks may be
set afoot. Seest thou yon new moon? it shall outlive
the new duke by much; this hand shall dispossess
him. Then we're mighty.
A mask is treason's licence, that build upon:
'Tis murder's best face, when a vizard's on. [Exit.
Amb. Is't so? 'tis very good!
And do you think to be duke then, kind brother?
I'll see fair play; drop one, and there lies t'other.
[Exit.
SCENE II.—A Room in Piero's House.
Enter Vendice and Hippolito, with Piero and other Lords.
Ven. My lords, be all of music, strike old griefs into other countries
That flow in too much milk, and have faint livers,
Not daring to stab home their discontents.
Let our hid flames break out as fire, as lightning,
To blast this villainous dukedom, vexed with sin;
Wind up your souls to their full height again.
Piero. How?
1st Lord. Which way?
2nd Lord. Any way: our wrongs are such,
We cannot justly be revenged too much.
Ven. You shall have all enough. Revels are toward,
And those few nobles that have long suppressed you,
Are busied to the furnishing of a masque,
And do affect to make a pleasant tale on't:
The masquing suits are fashioning: now comes in
That which must glad us all. We too take pattern
Of all those suits, the colour, trimming, fashion,
E'en to an undistinguished hair almost:
Then entering first, observing the true form,
Within a strain or two we shall find leisure
To steal our swords out handsomely;
And when they think their pleasure sweet and good,
In midst of all their joys they shall sigh blood.
Piero. Weightily, effectually!
3rd Lord. Before the t'other maskers come—
Ven. We're gone, all done and past.
Piero. But how for the duke's guard?
Ven. Let that alone;
By one and one their strengths shall be drunk down.
Hip. There are five hundred gentlemen in the action,
That will apply themselves, and not stand idle.
Piero. O, let us hug your bosoms!
Ven. Come, my lords,
Prepare for deeds: let other times have words.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.—Hall of State in the Palace.
In a dumb show, the possessing[233] of the Young Duke with all his Nobles; sounding music. A furnished table is brought forth; then enter the Duke and his Nobles to the banquet. A blazing star appeareth.
1st Noble. Many harmonious hours and choicest pleasures
Fill up the royal number of your years!
Lus. My lords, we're pleased to thank you, though we know
'Tis but your duty now to wish it so.
1st Noble. That shine makes us all happy.
3rd Noble. His grace frowns.
2nd Noble. Yet we must say he smiles.
1st Noble. I think we must.
Lus. That foul incontinent duchess we have banished;
The bastard shall not live. After these revels,
I'll begin strange ones: he and the step-sons
Shall pay their lives for the first subsidies;
We must not frown so soon, else't had been now.
[Aside.
1st Noble. My gracious lord, please you prepare for pleasure.
The masque is not far off.
Lus. We are for pleasure.
Beshrew thee, what art thou? thou mad'st me start!
Thou has committed treason. A blazing star!
1st Noble. A blazing star! O, where, my lord?
Lus. Spy out.
2nd Noble. See, see, my lords, a wondrous dreadful one!
Lus. I am not pleased at that ill-knotted fire,
That bushing, staring star. Am I not duke?
It should not quake me now. Had it appeared
Before, it I might then have justly feared;
But yet they say, whom art and learning weds,
When stars wear locks, they threaten great men's heads:
Is it so? you are read, my lords.
1st Noble. May it please your grace,
It shows great anger.
Lus. That does not please our grace.
2nd Noble. Yet here's the comfort, my lord: many times,
When it seems most near, it threatens farthest off.
Lus. Faith, and I think so too.
1st Noble. Beside, my lord,
You're gracefully established with the loves
Of all your subjects; and for natural death,
I hope it will be threescore years a-coming.
Lus. True? no more but threescore years?
1st Noble. Fourscore, I hope, my lord.
2nd Noble. And fivescore, I.
3rd Noble. But 'tis my hope, my lord, you shall ne'er die.
Lus. Give me thy hand; these others I rebuke:
He that hopes so is fittest for a duke:
Thou shalt sit next me; take your places, lords;
We're ready now for sports; let 'em set on:
You thing! we shall forget you quite anon!
3rd Noble. I hear 'em coming, my lord.
Enter the Masque of revengers: Vendice and Hippolito, with two Lords.
Lus. Ah, 'tis well!
Brothers and bastard, you dance next in hell! [Aside.
[They dance; at the end they steal out their swords, and kill the four seated at the table. Thunder.
Ven. Mark, thunder!
Dost know thy cue, thou big-voiced crier?
Dukes' groans are thunder's watchwords.
Hip. So, my lords, you have enough.
Ven. Come, let's away, no lingering.
Hip. Follow! go! [Exeunt except Vendice.
Ven. No power is angry when the lustful die;
When thunder claps, heaven likes the tragedy. [Exit.
Lus. O, O!
Enter the Masque of intended murderers: Ambitioso, Supervacuo, Spurio, and a Lord, coming in dancing. Lussurioso recovers a little in voice, groans, and calls, "A guard! treason!" at which the Dancers start out of their measure, and, turning towards the table, find them all to be murdered.
Spu. Whose groan was that?
Lus. Treason! a guard!
Amb. How now? all murdered!
Sup. Murdered!
3rd. Lord. And those his nobles?
Amb. Here's a labour saved;
I thought to have sped him. 'Sblood, how came this?
Spu. Then I proclaim myself; now I am duke.
Amb. Thou duke! brother, thou liest.
Spu. Slave! so dost thou. [Kills Ambitioso.
3rd Lord. Base villain! hast thou slain my lord and master?
[Stabs Spurio.
Re-enter Vendice and Hippolito and the two Lords.
Ven. Pistols! treason! murder! Help! guard my lord the duke!
Enter Antonio and Guard.
Hip. Lay hold upon this traitor.
Lus. O!
Ven. Alas! the duke is murdered.
Hip. And the nobles.
Ven. Surgeons! surgeons! Heart! does he breathe so long?
[Aside.
Ant. A piteous tragedy! able to make
An old man's eyes bloodshot.
Lus. O!
Ven. Look to my lord the duke. A vengeance throttle him!
[Aside.
Confess, thou murderous and unhallowed man,
Didst thou kill all these?
3rd Lord. None but the bastard, I.
Ven. How came the duke slain, then?
3rd Lord. We found him so.
Lus. O villain!
Ven. Hark!
Lus. Those in the masque did murder us.
Ven. La you now, sir—
O marble impudence! will you confess now?
3rd Lord. 'Sblood, 'tis all false.
Ant. Away with that foul monster,
Dipped in a prince's blood.
3rd Lord. Heart! 'tis a lie.
Ant. Let him have bitter execution.
Ven. New marrow! no, I cannot be expressed.
How fares my lord the duke?
Lus. Farewell to all;
He that climbs highest has the greatest fall.
My tongue is out of office.
Ven. Air, gentlemen, air.
Now thou'lt not prate on't, 'twas Vendice murdered thee.
[Whispers in his ear.
Lus. O!
Ven. Murdered thy father. [Whispers.
Lus. O! [Dies.
Ven. And I am he—tell nobody: [Whispers] So, so, the duke's departed.
Ant. It was a deadly hand that wounded him.
The rest, ambitious who should rule and sway
After his death, were so made all away.
Ven. My lord was unlikely—
Hip. Now the hope
Of Italy lies in your reverend years.
Ven. Your hair will make the silver age again,
When there were fewer, but more honest men.
Ant. The burthen's weighty, and will press age down;
May I so rule, that Heaven may keep the crown!
Ven. The rape of your good lady has been quitted
With death on death.
Ant. Just is the law above.
But of all things it put me most to wonder
How the old duke came murdered!
Ven. O my lord!
Ant. It was the strangeliest carried: I've not heard of the like.
Hip. 'Twas all done for the best, my lord.
Ven. All for your grace's good. We may be bold to speak it now,
'Twas somewhat witty carried, though we say it—
'Twas we two murdered him.
Ant. You two?
Ven. None else, i' faith, my lord. Nay, 'twas well-managed.
Ant. Lay hands upon those villains!
Ven. How! on us?
Ant. Bear 'em to speedy execution.
Ven. Heart! was't not for your good, my lord?
Ant. My good! Away with 'em: such an old man as he!
You, that would murder him, would murder me.
Ven. Is't come about?
Hip. 'Sfoot, brother, you begun.
Ven. May not we set as well as the duke's son?
Thou hast no conscience, are we not revenged?
Is there one enemy left alive amongst those?
'Tis time to die, when we're ourselves our foes:
When murderers shut deeds close, this curse does seal 'em:
If none disclose 'em, they themselves reveal 'em!
This murder might have slept in tongueless brass
But for ourselves, and the world died an ass.
Now I remember too, here was Piato
Brought forth a knavish sentence once;
No doubt (said he), but time
Will make the murderer bring forth himself.
'Tis well he died; he was a witch.
And now, my lord, since we are in for ever,
This work was ours, which else might have been slipped!
And if we list, we could have nobles clipped,
And go for less than beggars; but we hate
To bleed so cowardly: we have enough,
I' faith, we're well, our mother turned, our sister true,
We die after a nest of dukes. Adieu! [Exeunt.
Ant. How subtlely was that murder closed![234]
Bear up
Those tragic bodies: 'tis a heavy season;
Pray Heaven their blood may wash away all treason!
[Exit.