The White Devil Part 39

Vit. In thine own engine. I tread the fire out That would have been my ruin.

Flam. Will you be perjured? what a religious oath was Styx, that the G.o.ds never durst swear by, and violate! Oh, that we had such an oath to minister, and to be so well kept in our courts of justice!

Vit. Think whither thou art going.

Zan. And remember What villainies thou hast acted.

Vit. This thy death Shall make me, like a blazing ominous star, Look up and tremble.

Flam. Oh, I am caught with a spring!

Vit. You see the fox comes many times short home; 'Tis here prov'd true.

Flam. Kill'd with a couple of braches!

Vit. No fitter offing for the infernal furies, Than one in whom they reign'd while he was living.

Flam. Oh, the way 's dark and horrid! I cannot see: Shall I have no company?

Vit. Oh, yes, thy sins Do run before thee to fetch fire from h.e.l.l, To light thee thither.

Flam. Oh, I smell soot, Most stinking soot! the chimney 's afire: My liver 's parboil'd, like Scotch holly-bread; There 's a plumber laying pipes in my guts, it scalds.

Wilt thou outlive me?

Zan. Yes, and drive a stake Through thy body; for we 'll give it out, Thou didst this violence upon thyself.

Flam. Oh, cunning devils! now I have tried your love, And doubled all your reaches: I am not wounded.

[Flamineo riseth.

The pistols held no bullets; 'twas a plot To prove your kindness to me; and I live To punish your ingrat.i.tude. I knew, One time or other, you would find a way To give me a strong potion. O men, That lie upon your death-beds, and are haunted With howling wives! ne'er trust them; they 'll re-marry Ere the worm pierce your winding-sheet, ere the spider Make a thin curtain for your epitaphs.

How cunning you were to discharge! do you practise at the Artillery yard? Trust a woman? never, never; Brachiano be my precedent. We lay our souls to p.a.w.n to the devil for a little pleasure, and a woman makes the bill of sale. That ever man should marry! For one Hypermnestra that saved her lord and husband, forty-nine of her sisters cut their husbands' throats all in one night. There was a shoal of virtuous horse leeches! Here are two other instruments.

Enter Lodovico, Gasparo, still disguised as Capuchins

Vit. Help, help!

Flam. What noise is that? ha! false keys i' th 'court!

Lodo. We have brought you a mask.

Flam. A matachin it seems by your drawn swords.

Churchmen turned revelers!

Gas. Isabella! Isabella!

Lodo. Do you know us now?

Flam. Lodovico! and Gasparo!

Lodo. Yes; and that Moor the duke gave pension to Was the great Duke of Florence.

Vit. Oh, we are lost!

Flam. You shall not take justice forth from my hands, Oh, let me kill her!--I 'll cut my safety Through your coats of steel. Fate 's a spaniel, We cannot beat it from us. What remains now?

Let all that do ill, take this precedent: Man may his fate foresee, but not prevent; And of all axioms this shall win the prize: 'Tis better to be fortunate than wise.

Gas. Bind him to the pillar.

Vit. Oh, your gentle pity!

I have seen a blackbird that would sooner fly To a man's bosom, than to stay the gripe Of the fierce sparrow-hawk.

Gas. Your hope deceives you.

Vit. If Florence be i' th' court, would he would kill me!

Gas. Fool! Princes give rewards with their own hands, But death or punishment by the hands of other.

Lodo. Sirrah, you once did strike me; I 'll strike you Unto the centre.