The White Devil Part 5

Corn. The lives of princes should like dials move, Whose regular example is so strong, They make the times by them go right, or wrong.

Flam. So, have you done?

Corn. Unfortunate Camillo!

Vit. I do protest, if any chaste denial, If anything but blood could have allay'd His long suit to me----

Corn. I will join with thee, To the most woeful end e'er mother kneel'd: If thou dishonour thus thy husband's bed, Be thy life short as are the funeral tears In great men's----

Brach. Fie, fie, the woman's mad.

Corn. Be thy act Judas-like; betray in kissing: May'st thou be envied during his short breath, And pitied like a wretch after his death!

Vit. O me accurs'd! [Exit.

Flam. Are you out of your wits? my lord, I 'll fetch her back again.

Brach. No, I 'll to bed: Send Doctor Julio to me presently.

Uncharitable woman! thy rash tongue Hath rais'd a fearful and prodigious storm: Be thou the cause of all ensuing harm. [Exit.

Flam. Now, you that stand so much upon your honour, Is this a fitting time a' night, think you, To send a duke home without e'er a man?

I would fain know where lies the ma.s.s of wealth Which you have h.o.a.rded for my maintenance, That I may bear my beard out of the level Of my lord's stirrup.

Corn. What! because we are poor Shall we be vicious?

Flam. Pray, what means have you To keep me from the galleys, or the gallows?

My father prov'd himself a gentleman, Sold all 's land, and, like a fortunate fellow, Died ere the money was spent. You brought me up At Padua, I confess, where I protest, For want of means--the University judge me-- I have been fain to heel my tutor's stockings, At least seven years; conspiring with a beard, Made me a graduate; then to this duke's service, I visited the court, whence I return'd More courteous, more lecherous by far, But not a suit the richer. And shall I, Having a path so open, and so free To my preferment, still retain your milk In my pale forehead? No, this face of mine I 'll arm, and fortify with l.u.s.ty wine, 'Gainst shame and blus.h.i.+ng.

Corn. O that I ne'er had borne thee!

Flam. So would I; I would the common'st courtesan in Rome Had been my mother, rather than thyself.

Nature is very pitiful to wh.o.r.es, To give them but few children, yet those children Plurality of fathers; they are sure They shall not want. Go, go, Complain unto my great lord cardinal; It may be he will justify the act.

Lycurgus wonder'd much, men would provide Good stallions for their mares, and yet would suffer Their fair wives to be barren.

Corn. Misery of miseries! [Exit.

Flam. The d.u.c.h.ess come to court! I like not that.

We are engag'd to mischief, and must on; As rivers to find out the ocean Flow with crook bendings beneath forced banks, Or as we see, to aspire some mountain's top, The way ascends not straight, but imitates The subtle foldings of a winter's snake, So who knows policy and her true aspect, Shall find her ways winding and indirect.

ACT II

SCENE I

Enter Francisco de Medicis, Cardinal Monticelso, Marcello, Isabella, young Giovanni, with little Jacques the Moor

Fran. Have you not seen your husband since you arrived?

Isab. Not yet, sir.

Fran. Surely he is wondrous kind; If I had such a dove-house as Camillo's, I would set fire on 't were 't but to destroy The polecats that haunt to it--My sweet cousin!

Giov. Lord uncle, you did promise me a horse, And armour.

Fran. That I did, my pretty cousin.

Marcello, see it fitted.

Marc. My lord, the duke is here.

Fran. Sister, away; you must not yet be seen.

Isab. I do beseech you, Entreat him mildly, let not your rough tongue Set us at louder variance; all my wrongs Are freely pardon'd; and I do not doubt, As men to try the precious unicorn's horn Make of the powder a preservative circle, And in it put a spider, so these arms Shall charm his poison, force it to obeying, And keep him chaste from an infected straying.

Fran. I wish it may. Begone. [Exit Isabella as Brachiano and Flamineo enter.] Void the chamber.

You are welcome; will you sit?--I pray, my lord, Be you my orator, my heart 's too full; I 'll second you anon.

Mont. Ere I begin, Let me entreat your grace forgo all pa.s.sion, Which may be raised by my free discourse.