Enters the devil murder. Fra. Your unhappy husband Is dead. Vit. O he's a happy husband; Fru. And by a vaulting engine. He jumpt into his grave. Fra. What a prodigy was't, That from some two yards high, a slender man Mon. I'th' rushes! Fra. And what's more, Upon the instant lose all use of speech, Wound up three days. Now mark each circumstance. She comes not like a widow she comes arm'd With scorn and impudence: is this a mourning-habit? Vit. Had I foreknown his death as you suggest, I would have bespoke my mourning. Mon. O you are cunning! Vit. You shame your wit and judgement, To call it so; what, is my just defence, By him that is my judge, call'd impudence? Let me appeal then from this Christian court Mon. See, my lords, She scandals our proceedings.. Vit. Humbly thus, Thus low, to the most worthy and respected Leiger ambassadors, my modesty And womanhood I tender; but withall, That my defence, of force, like Perseus, Must personate masculine virtue. To the point; En. Amb. She hath a brave spirit. Mon. Well, well, such counterfeit jewels Make true ones oft suspected. Vit. You are deceived; For know, that all your strict combined heads, Shall prove but glassen hammers, they shall break; Mon. Pray you mistress, satisfy me one question: Bra. That question Inforceth me break silence; I was there. Mont. Your business? Bra. Why, I came to comfort her, And take some course for settling her estate, That Mont. He was. Bra. And 'twas strangely fear'd, you would cozen her. Mont. Who made you overseer? Bra. Why, my charity, my charity, which should flow From every generous and noble spirit, To orphans and to widows. Mont. Your lust. Bra. Cowardly dogs bark loudest! sirrah, priest, I'll talk with you hereafter.Do you hear? The sword you frame of such an excellent temper, I'll sheath in your own bowels. There are a number of thy coat resemble Your common post-boys. Mont. Ha? Bra. Your mercenary post-boys; Your letters carry truth, but 'tis your guise To fill your mouths with gross and impudent lies. Bra. Thou liest, 'twas my stool. Bestow't upon thy master, that will challenge [exit Brachiano. Vit. The wolf may prey the better. Fra. My lord, there's great suspicion of the murder; But no sound proof who did it. For my part I do not think she hath a soul so black To act a deed so bloody: if she have, As in cold countries husband-men plant vines, Vit. I discern poison Under your gilded pills. Mon. Now the duke's gone I will produce a letter, Down by the river Tyber. View't, my lords: Vit. Grant I was tempted; Temptation to lust proves not the act: Casta est quam nemo rogavit. You read his hot love to me, but you want My frosty answer. Mon. Frost i'th' dog-days! strange ! Vit. Condemn you me for that the duke did love me? So may you blame some fair and chrystal river For that some melancholic distracted man Hath drown'd himself in't. Mon. Truly drown'd, indeed. Vit. Sum up my faults, I pray, and you shall find, That beauty and gay clothes, a merry heart, And a good stomach to feast, are all, All the poor crimes that you can charge me with. In faith, my lord, you might go pistol flies, The sport would be more noble. Mon. Very good. Vit. But take you your course, it seems you have beggar'd me first, And now would fain undo me. I have houses, Jewels, and a poor remnant of crusados; Would those would make charitable. you Mon. If the devil Did ever take good shape, behold his picture. Vit. You have one virtue left, You will not flatter me. Fra. Who brought this letter? Vit. I am not compell'd to tell you. Mon. My lord duke sent to you a thousand ducats, The twelfth of August. Vit. 'Twas to keep your cousin From prison, I paid use for't. Mon. I rather think, 'Twas interest for his lust. Vit. Who says so but yourself? if you be my accuser, Pray cease to be my judge; come from the bench, Give in your evidence against me, and let these Be moderators. My lord cardinal, Were your intelligencing ears as loving, As to my thoughts, had you an honest tongue, I would not care though you proclaim'd them all. Mon. Go to, go to. After your goodly and vain-glorious banquet, I'll give you a choak-pear. Vit. Of your own grafting? Mon. You were born in Venice, honourably descended From the Vittelli; 'twas my cousin's fate, Ill may I name the hour, to marry you; He bought you of your father. Vit. Ha! Mon. He spent there in six months "Twas a hard penny-worth, the ware being so light; Vit. My lord! Mon. Nay, hear me, You shall have time to prate. My lord Brachiano- Of what is ordinary, and Ryalto talk, And ballated, and would be play'd o'th' stage, But that vice many times finds such loud friends, That preachers are charm'd silent. You gentlemen, Flamineo and Marcello, The court hath nothing now to charge you with, Fra. I stand for Marcello. Fla. And my lord duke for me. Mon. For you, Vittoria, your public fault, Both of your life and beauty, and been styl'd Fla. Who, I? Mon. The Moor. Fla. O, I am a sound man again. Vit. A house of converts! what's that? Erect them for their wives, that I am sent Fra. You must have patience. Mon. Away with her, Take her hence. Vit. A rape! a rape! Mon. How? salvation Vit. Yes, you have ravish'd justice; Forc'd her to do your pleasure. Mon. Fie, she's mad! Vit. Die with those pills in your most cursed maw, Should bring you health! or while you sit o'th' bench, Let your own spittle choke you! Mon. She's turn'd fury. Vit. That the last day of judgement may so find you, And leave you the same devil you were before! Instruct me some good horse-leach to speak treason, For since you cannot take my life for deeds, Take it for words: O woman's poor revenge! Which dwells but in the tongue. I will not weep. No; I do scorn to call up one poor tear To fawn on your injustice: bear me hence Vit. It shall not be a house of converts; My mind shall make it honester to me |