SCENE II
Enter Brachiano, with one in the habit of a conjurer
Brach. Now, sir, I claim your promise: 'tis dead midnight,
The time prefix'd to show me by your art,
How the intended murder of Camillo,
And our loath'd duchess, grow to action.
Conj. 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 windmills, and endanger their own necks
For making of a squib; and some there are
Will keep a curtal to show juggling tricks,
And give out 'tis a spirit; besides these,
Such a whole ream 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 nightcap, 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; they put on spectacles of glass, which cover their eyes and noses, and then burn perfumes before the picture, and wash the lips of the picture; that done, quenching the fire, and putting off their spectacles, they depart laughing.
Enter Isabella in her night-gown, as to bedward, 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 in Count Lodovico. She is conveyed out solemnly.
Brach. Excellent! then she 's dead.
Conj. She 's poisoned
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 poison'd stuff, which presently
Did suffocate her spirits.
Brach. Methought I saw
Count Lodowick there.
Conj. 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 charmed ground,
To yield, as fits the act, a tragic sound!
The Second Dumb Show
Enter Flamineo, Marcello, Camillo, with four more as captains: they drink healths, and dance; a vaulting horse is brought into the room; Marcello and two more whispered out of the room, while Flamineo and Camillo strip themselves into their shirts, as to vault; 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 'twere under the horse; makes show to call for help; Marcello comes in, laments; sends for the cardinal and duke, who comes forth with armed men; wonders at the act; commands the body to be carried home; apprehends Flamineo, Marcello, and the rest, and go, as 'twere, to apprehend Vittoria.
Brach. 'Twas quaintly done; but yet each circumstance
I taste not fully.
Conj. Oh, 'twas most apparent!
You saw them enter, charg'd 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.
Conj. 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 annexed to my hand;
It shall enforce a payment. [Exit Brachiano.
Conj. Sir, I thank you.
Both flowers and weeds spring, when the sun is warm,
And great men do great good, or else great harm.
[Exit.
ACT III
SCENE I
Enter Francisco de Medicis, and Monticelso, their Chancellor and Register
Fran. You have dealt discreetly, to obtain the presence
Of all the great lieger 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. Oh, fie! 'Twere impudence too palpable. [Exeunt.
Enter Flamineo and Marcello guarded, and a Lawyer
Lawyer. What, are you in by the week? So—I will try now whether they
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.
Lawyer. My lord duke and she have been very private.
Flam. You are a dull ass; 'tis threatened they have been very public.
Lawyer. If it can be proved they have but kissed one another——
Flam. What then?
Lawyer. My lord cardinal will ferret them.
Flam. A cardinal, I hope, will not catch conies.
Lawyer. 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 neither
part too, you know what follows.
Lawyer. Hark! the ambassadors are 'lighted——
Flam. I do put on this feigned garb of mirth,
To gull suspicion.
Marc. Oh, 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.
Marc. Your ruin.
Flam. Hum! thou art a soldier,
Followest 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 grip it fast, the frail reward
Steals through thy fingers.
Marc. Sir!
Flam. Thou hast scarce maintenance
To keep thee in fresh chamois.
Marc. Brother!
Flam. Hear me:
And thus, when we have even pour'd ourselves
Into great fights, for their ambition,
Or idle spleen, how shall we find reward?
But as we seldom find the mistletoe,
Sacred to physic, on the builder oak,
Without a mandrake by it; so in our quest of gain,
Alas, the poorest of their forc'd dislikes
At a limb proffers, but at heart it strikes!
This is lamented doctrine.
Marc. Come, come.
Flam. When age shall turn thee
White as a blooming hawthorn——
Marc. I 'll interrupt you:
For love of virtue bear an honest heart,
And stride o'er every politic respect,
Which, where they most advance, they most infect.
Were I your father, as I am your brother,
I should not be ambitious to leave you
A better patrimony.
Flam. I 'll think on 't. [Enter Savoy Ambassador.
The lord ambassadors.
[Here there is a passage of the Lieger Ambassadors over the stage
severally.
Enter French Ambassador
Lawyer. Oh, my sprightly Frenchman! Do you know him? he 's an admirable tilter.
Flam. I saw him at last tilting: he showed like a pewter candlestick fashioned like a man in armour, holding a tilting staff in his hand, little bigger than a candle of twelve i' th' pound.
Lawyer. Oh, but he's an excellent horseman!
Flam. A lame one in his lofty tricks; he sleeps a-horseback, like a poulterer.
Enter English and Spanish
Lawyer. Lo you, my Spaniard!
Flam. He carried his face in 's ruff, as I have seen a serving-man carry glasses in a cypress hatband, monstrous steady, for fear of breaking; he looks like the claw of a blackbird, first salted, and then broiled in a candle. [Exeunt.