The White Devil Part 10

Flam. He dies this night, by such a politic strain, Men shall suppose him by 's own engine slain.

But for your d.u.c.h.ess' death----

Doctor. I 'll make her sure.

Brach. Small mischiefs are by greater made secure.

Flam. Remember this, you slave; when knaves come to preferment, they rise as gallows in the Low Countries, one upon another's shoulders.

[Exeunt. Monticelso, Camillo, and Francisco come forward.

Mont. Here is an emblem, nephew, pray peruse it: 'Twas thrown in at your window.

Cam. At my window!

Here is a stag, my lord, hath shed his horns, And, for the loss of them, the poor beast weeps: The word, Inopem me copia fecit.

Mont. That is, Plenty of horns hath made him poor of horns.

Cam. What should this mean?

Mont. I 'll tell you; 'tis given out You are a cuckold.

Cam. Is it given out so?

I had rather such reports as that, my lord, Should keep within doors.

Fran. Have you any children?

Cam. None, my lord.

Fran. You are the happier: I 'll tell you a tale.

Cam. Pray, my lord.

Fran. An old tale.

Upon a time Ph?bus, the G.o.d of light, Or him we call the sun, would need to be married: The G.o.ds gave their consent, and Mercury Was sent to voice it to the general world.

But what a piteous cry there straight arose Amongst smiths and felt-makers, brewers and cooks, Reapers and b.u.t.ter-women, amongst fishmongers, And thousand other trades, which are annoyed By his excessive heat! 'twas lamentable.

They came to Jupiter all in a sweat, And do forbid the banns. A great fat cook Was made their speaker, who entreats of Jove That Ph?bus might be gelded; for if now, When there was but one sun, so many men Were like to perish by his violent heat, What should they do if he were married, And should beget more, and those children Make fireworks like their father? So say I; Only I apply it to your wife; Her issue, should not providence prevent it, Would make both nature, time, and man repent it.

Mont. Look you, cousin, Go, change the air for shame; see if your absence Will blast your cornucopia. Marcello Is chosen with you joint commissioner, For the relieving our Italian coast From pirates.

Marc. I am much honour'd in 't.

Cam. But, sir, Ere I return, the stag's horns may be sprouted Greater than those are shed.

Mont. Do not fear it; I 'll be your ranger.

Cam. You must watch i' th' nights; Then 's the most danger.

Fran. Farewell, good Marcello: All the best fortunes of a soldier's wish Bring you a-s.h.i.+pboard.

Cam. Were I not best, now I am turn'd soldier, Ere that I leave my wife, sell all she hath, And then take leave of her?

Mont. I expect good from you, Your parting is so merry.

Cam. Merry, my lord! a' th' captain's humour right, I am resolved to be drunk this night. [Exeunt.

Fran. So, 'twas well fitted; now shall we discern How his wish'd absence will give violent way To Duke Brachiano's l.u.s.t.

Mont. Why, that was it; To what scorn'd purpose else should we make choice Of him for a sea-captain? and, besides, Count Lodowick, which was rumour'd for a pirate, Is now in Padua.

Fran. Is 't true?

Mont. Most certain.

I have letters from him, which are suppliant To work his quick repeal from banishment: He means to address himself for pension Unto our sister d.u.c.h.ess.

Fran. Oh, 'twas well!

We shall not want his absence past six days: I fain would have the Duke Brachiano run Into notorious scandal; for there 's naught In such cursed dotage, to repair his name, Only the deep sense of some deathless shame.

Mont. It may be objected, I am dishonourable To play thus with my kinsman; but I answer, For my revenge I 'd stake a brother's life, That being wrong'd, durst not avenge himself.