Lus. Where is that villain?
Ven. Softly, my lord, and you may take 'em twisted.
Lus. I care not how.
Ven. O! 'twill be glorious
To kill 'em doubled, when they're heaped. Be soft, my lord.
Lus. Away! my spleen is not so lazy: thus and thus
I'll shake their eyelids ope, and with my sword
Shut 'em again for ever. Villain! strumpet!
Duke. You upper guard, defend us!
Duch. Treason! treason!
Duke. O, take me not in sleep!
I have great sins; I must have days,
Nay, months, dear son, with penitential heaves,
To lift 'em out, and not to die unclear.
O, thou wilt kill me both in Heaven and here.
Lus. I am amazed to death.
Duke. Nay, villain, traitor,
Worse than the foulest epithet; now I'll gripe thee
E'en with the nerves of wrath, and throw thy head
Amongst the lawyers!—guard!
Enter Ambitioso, Supervacuo, and Lords.
1st Lord. How comes the quiet of your grace disturbed?
Duke. This boy, that should be myself after me,
Would be myself before me; and in heat
Of that ambition bloodily rushed in,
Intending to depose me in my bed.
2nd Lord. Duty and natural loyalty forfend!
Duch. He called his father villain, and me strumpet,
A word that I abhor to file[211] my lips with.
Amb. That was not so well-done, brother.
Lus. I am abused—I know there's no excuse can do me good.
[Aside.
Ven. 'Tis now good policy to be from sight;
His vicious purpose to our sister's honour
I crossed beyond our thought. [Aside.
Hip. You little dreamt his father slept here.
Ven. O, 'twas far beyond me:
But since it fell so—without frightful words,
Would he had killed him, 'twould have eased our swords.
Duke. Be comforted, our duchess, he shall die.
[Exeunt Vendice and Hippolito.
Lus. Where's this slave-pander now? out of mine eye,
Guilty of this abuse.
Enter Spurio with Servants.
Spu. Y' are villains, fablers![212]
You have knaves' chins and harlots' tongues; you lie;
And I will damn you with one meal a day.
1st Ser. O good my lord!
Spu. 'Sblood, you shall never sup.
2nd Ser. O, I beseech you, sir!
Spu. To let my sword catch cold so long, and miss him!
1st Ser. Troth, my lord, 'twas his intent to meet there.
Spu. 'Heart! he's yonder.
Ha, what news here? is the day out o' the socket,
That it is noon at midnight? the court up?
How comes the guard so saucy with his elbows?
Lus. The bastard here?
Nay, then the truth of my intent shall out;
My lord and father, hear me.
Duke. Bear him hence.
Lus. I can with loyalty excuse.
Duke. Excuse? to prison with the villain!
Death shall not long lag after him.
Spu. Good, i' faith: then 'tis not much amiss.
Lus. Brothers, my best release lies on your tongues;
I pray, persuade for me.
Amb. It is our duties; make yourself sure of us.
Sup. We'll sweat in pleading.
Lus. And I may live to thank you.
[Exit with Lords.
Amb. No, thy death shall thank me better.
Spu. He's gone; I'll after him,
And know his trespass; seem to bear a part
In all his ills, but with a puritan heart.
[Exit with Servants.
Amb. Now, brother, let our hate and love be woven
So subtlely together, that in speaking one word for his life,
We may make three for his death:
The craftiest pleader gets most gold for breath.
Sup. Set on, I'll not be far behind you, brother.
Duke. Is't possible a son should be disobedient as far as the sword? It is the highest: he can go no farther.
Amb. My gracious lord, take pity—
Duke. Pity, boys!
Amb. Nay, we'd be loth to move your grace too much;
We know the trespass is unpardonable,
Black, wicked, and unnatural.
Sup. In a son! O, monstrous!
Amb. Yet, my lord,
A duke's soft hand strokes the rough head of law,
And makes it lie smooth.
Duke. But my hand shall ne'er do't.
Amb. That as you please, my lord.
Sup. We must needs confess.
Some fathers would have entered into hate
So deadly-pointed, that before his eyes
He would ha' seen the execution sound[213]
Without corrupted favour.
Amb. But, my lord,
Your grace may live the wonder of all times,
In pardoning that offence, which never yet
Had face to beg a pardon.
Duke. Hunny, how's this?
Amb. Forgive him, good my lord; he's your own son:
And I must needs say, 'twas the viler done.
Sup. He's the next heir: yet this true reason gathers,
None can possess that dispossess their fathers.
Be merciful!—
Duke. Here's no step-mother's wit;
I'll try them both upon their love and hate. [Aside.
Amb. Be merciful—although—
Duke. You have prevailed.
My wrath, like flaming wax, hath spent itself;
I know 'twas but some peevish moon[214] in him;
Go, let him be released.
Sup. 'Sfoot, how now, brother? [Aside.
Amb. Your grace doth please to speak beside your spleen;
I would it were so happy.
Duke. Why, go, release him.
Sup. O my good lord! I know the fault's too weighty
And full of general loathing: too inhuman,
Rather by all men's voices worthy death.
Duke. 'Tis true too; here, then, receive this signet.
Doom shall pass;
Direct it to the judges; he shall die
Ere many days. Make haste.
Amb. All speed that may be.
We could have wished his burden not so sore:
We knew your grace did but delay before.
[Exeunt Ambitioso and Supervacuo.
Duke. Here's envy with a poor thin cover o'er't;
Like scarlet hid in lawn, easily spied through.
This their ambition by the mother's side
Is dangerous, and for safety must be purged.
I will prevent their envies; sure it was
But some mistaken fury in our son,
Which these aspiring boys would climb upon:
He shall be released suddenly.
Enter Nobles.