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.