Webster & Tourneur

by John Webster; Cyril Tourneur

Ven. Madam, his grace will not be absent long.[219]
Secret! ne'er doubt us, madam; 'twill be worth
Three velvet gowns to your ladyship. Known!
Few ladies respect that disgrace: a poor thin shell!
'Tis the best grace you have to do it well.
I'll save your hand that labour: I'll unmask you!
Hip. Why, brother, brother!
Ven. Art thou beguiled now? tut, a lady can,
As such all hid, beguile a wiser man.
Have I not fitted the old surfeiter
With a quaint piece of beauty? Age and bare bone
Are e'er allied in action. Here's an eye,
Able to tempt a great man—to serve God:
A pretty hanging lip, that has forgot now to dissemble.
Methinks this mouth should make a swearer tremble;
A drunkard clasp his teeth, and not undo 'em,
To suffer wet damnation to run through 'em.
Here's a cheek keeps her colour, let the wind go whistle:
Spout, rain, we fear thee not: be hot or cold,
All's one with us; and is not he absurd,
Whose fortunes are upon their faces set,
That fear no other god but wind and wet?
Hip. Brother, you've spoke that right:
Is this the form that, living, shone so bright?

Ven. The very same.
And now methinks I could e'en chide myself
For doating on her beauty, though her death
Shall be revenged after no common action.
Does the silkworm expend her yellow labours
For thee? For thee does she undo herself?
Are lordships sold to maintain ladyships,
For the poor benefit of a bewildering minute?
Why does yon fellow falsify highways,
And put his life between the judge's lips,
To refine such a thing—keeps horse and men
To beat their valours for her?
Surely we are all mad people, and they
Whom we think are, are not: we mistake those;
'Tis we are mad in sense, they but in clothes.
Hip. Faith, and in clothes too we, give us our due.
Ven. Does every proud and self-affecting dame,
Camphire her face for this, and grieve her Maker
In sinful baths of milk, when many an infant starves
For her superfluous outside—all for this?
Who now bids twenty pounds a night? prepares
Music, perfumes, and sweetmeats? All are hushed.
Thou may'st lie chaste now! it were fine, methinks,
To have thee seen at revels, forgetful feasts,
And unclean brothels! sure, 'twould fright the sinner,
And make him a good coward: put a reveller
Out of his antic amble,
And cloy an epicure with empty dishes.
Here might a scornful and ambitious woman
Look through and through herself. See, ladies, with false forms
You deceive men, but cannot deceive worms.—
Now to my tragic business. Look you, brother,
I have not fashioned this only for show
And useless property; no, it shall bear a part
E'en in its own revenge. This very skull,
Whose mistress the duke poisoned, with this drug,
The mortal curse of the earth, shall be revenged
In the like strain, and kiss his lips to death.
As much as the dumb thing can, he shall feel:
What fails in poison, we'll supply in steel.
Hip. Brother, I do applaud thy constant vengeance—
The quaintness of thy malice—above thought.
Ven. So, 'tis laid on:
[He poisons the lips of the skull]
now come and welcome, duke,
I have her for thee. I protest it, brother,
Methinks she makes almost as fair a fine,
As some old gentlewoman in a periwig.
Hide thy face now for shame; thou hadst need have a mask now:
'Tis vain when beauty flows; but when it fleets,
This would become graves better than the streets.
Hip. You have my voice in that: hark, the duke's come.
Ven. Peace, let's observe what company he brings,
And how he does absent 'em; for you know
He'll wish all private. Brother, fall you back a little
With the bony lady.
Hip. That I will. [Retires.
Ven. So, so; now nine years' vengeance crowd into a minute!

Enter Duke and Gentlemen.

Duke. You shall have leave to leave us, with this charge
Upon your lives, if we be missed by the duchess
Or any of the nobles, to give out,
We're privately rid forth.
Ven. O happiness!
Duke. With some few honourable gentlemen, you may say—
You may name those that are away from court.

Gen. Your will and pleasure shall be done, my lord.
[Exeunt Gentlemen.
Ven. "Privately rid forth!"
He strives to make sure work on't. Your good grace! [Advances.
Duke. Piato, well done, hast brought her! what lady is't?

Ven. Faith, my lord, a country lady, a little bashful at first, as most of them are; but after the first kiss, my lord, the worst is past with them. Your grace knows now what you have to do; she has somewhat a grave look with her—but—

Duke. I love that best; conduct her.
Ven. Have at all. [Aside.
Duke. In gravest looks the greatest faults seem less.
Give me that sin that's robed in holiness.
Ven. Back with the torch! brother, raise the perfumes.
[Aside.
Duke. How sweet can a duke breathe! Age has no fault.
Pleasure should meet in a perfumèd mist.
Lady, sweetly encountered: I came from court,
I must be bold with you. O, what's this? O!
Ven. Royal villain! white devil!
Duke. O!
Ven. Brother, place the torch here, that his affrighted eyeballs
May start into those hollows. Duke, dost know
Yon dreadful vizard? View it well; 'tis the skull
Of Gloriana, whom thou poisonedst last.
Duke. O! 't has poisoned me.
Ven. Didst not know that till now?
Duke. What are you two?
Ven. Villains all three! the very ragged bone
Has been sufficiently revenged.
Duke. O, Hippolito, call treason! [He sinks down.
Hip. Yes, my lord; treason! treason! treason!
[Stamping on him.

Duke. Then I'm betrayed.
Ven. Alas! poor lecher: in the hands of knaves,
A slavish duke is baser than his slaves.
Duke. My teeth are eaten out.
Ven. Hadst any left?
Hip. I think but few.
Ven. Then those that did eat are eaten.
Duke. O my tongue!
Ven. Your tongue? 'twill teach you to kiss closer,
Not like a slobbering Dutchman. You have eyes still:
Look, monster, what a lady hast thou made me
[Discovers himself.
My once betrothèd wife.
Duke. Is it thou, villain? nay, then—
Ven. 'Tis I, 'tis Vendice, 'tis I.
Hip. And let this comfort thee: our lord and father
Fell sick upon the infection of thy frowns,
And died in sadness: be that thy hope of life.
Duke. O!
Ven. He had his tongue, yet grief made him die speechless.
Pooh! 'tis but early yet; now I'll begin
To stick thy soul with ulcers. I will make
Thy spirit grievous sore; it shall not rest,
But like some pestilent man toss in thy breast. Mark me, duke:
Thou art a renownèd, high and mighty cuckold.
Duke. O!
Ven. Thy bastard, thy bastard rides a-hunting in thy brow.
Duke. Millions of deaths!
Ven. Nay, to afflict thee more,
Here in this lodge they meet for damnèd clips.[220]
Those eyes shall see the incest of their lips.
Duke. Is there a hell besides this, villains?
Ven. Villain!
Nay, Heaven is just; scorns are the hire of scorns:
I ne'er knew yet adulterer without horns.

Hip. Once, ere they die, 'tis quitted.
Ven. Hark! the music:
Their banquet is prepared, they're coming—
Duke. O, kill me not with that sight!
Ven. Thou shalt not lose that sight for all thy dukedom.
Duke. Traitors! murderers!
Ven. What! is not thy tongue eaten out yet?
Then we'll invent a silence. Brother, stifle the torch.
Duke. Treason! murder!
Ven. Nay, faith, we'll have you hushed. Now with thy dagger
Nail down his tongue, and mine shall keep possession
About his heart; if he but gasp, he dies;
We dread not death to quittance injuries.
Brother, if he but wink, not brooking the foul object,
Let our two other hands tear up his lids,
And make his eyes like comets shine through blood.
When the bad bleeds, then is the tragedy good.
Hip. Whist, brother! the music's at our ear; they come.

Enter Spurio, meeting the Duchess.

Spu. Had not that kiss a taste of sin, 'twere sweet.
Duch. Why, there's no pleasure sweet, but it is sinful.
Spu. True, such a bitter sweetness fate hath given;
Best side to us is the worst side to Heaven.
Duch. Pish! come: 'tis the old duke, thy doubtful father:
The thought of him rubs Heaven in thy way.
But I protest by yonder waxen fire,
Forget him, or I'll poison him.
Spu. Madam, you urge a thought which ne'er had life.
So deadly do I loathe him for my birth,
That if he took me hasped within his bed,
I would add murder to adultery,
And with my sword give up his years to death.

Duch. Why, now thou'rt sociable; let's in and feast:
Loud'st music sound; pleasure is banquet's guest.
[Exeunt Duchess and Spurio.
Duke. I cannot brook—[Dies.
Ven. The brook is turned to blood.
Hip. Thanks to loud music.
Ven. 'Twas our friend, indeed.
'Tis state in music for a duke to bleed.
The dukedom wants a head, though yet unknown;
As fast as they peep up, let's cut 'em down. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.—A Room in the Palace.

Enter Ambitioso and Supervacuo.

Amb. Was not his execution rarely plotted?
We are the duke's sons now.
Sup. Ay, you may thank my policy for that.
Amb. Your policy for what?
Sup. Why, was't not my invention, brother,
To slip the judges? and in lesser compass
Did I not draw the model of his death;
Advising you to sudden officers
And e'en extemporal execution?
Amb. Heart! 'twas a thing I thought on too.
Sup. You thought on't too! 'sfoot, slander not your thoughts
With glorious untruth; I know 'twas from you.
Amb. Sir, I say, 'twas in my head.
Sup. Ay, like your brains then,
Ne'er to come out as long as you lived.
Amb. You'd have the honour on't, forsooth, that your wit
Led him to the scaffold.
Sup. Since it is my due,
I'll publish't, but I'll ha't in spite of you.

Amb. Methinks, y'are much too bold; you should a little
Remember us, brother, next to be honest duke.
Sup. Ay, it shall be as easy for you to be duke
As to be honest; and that's never, i' faith. [Aside.
Amb. Well, cold he is by this time; and because
We're both ambitious, be it our amity,
And let the glory be shared equally.
Sup. I am content to that.
Amb. This night our younger brother shall out of prison:
I have a trick.
Sup. A trick! prythee, what is't?
Amb. We'll get him out by a wile.
Sup. Prythee, what wile?
Amb. No, sir; you shall not know it, till it be done;
For then you'd swear 'twere yours.