University of Virginia Library

Scena Quinta.

Verdugo.
Vnder a homely habit many times,
Vertue lyes hid; this rusticke weed conceales
An Engine that can frustrate providence:
When I attempt the death of any man,
No towne of Garrison, not his owne house,
Nor any place of sanctuary can save him:
Nor doth my praise consist in this alone,
That I command the life of whom I list;
A desperate wretch may claime that priviledge:
He that is weary of his owne, may be
Lord of anothers life; but such attempts
Hatch't onely by a phrensie, seldome prosper:
My actions are the fruits of a bold spirit,
Temper'd with judgement, done with secrecy:
Hence is our brave profession found to be
Of speciall use to awe the insolent,
And secure those that seeke to live in peace.
What satisfaction is it to a man
That receives wrong, to call his enemy forth,
And then expose himselfe to equall hazard?
Or in strict Common-wealths t'appeale to law,
As if a feyn'd submission in set words
Could cure the piercing sting of injury;
No, 'tis assurance of a close revenge
That plants civility, deters and keeps men
From giving, and from suffering affronts;
This benefit we bring to every man,
Yes, and the publicke States of Italy,
How ere they censure our particular actions,
Receive no small security from us;
Treason would hardly finde just punishment
Within their narrow territories, if we
Should not, like eager hounds, pursue the traytors,
And make them know, that in another Country
The justice of their owne can overtake them;
Let then the sloathfull taxe us, that our ends
Are not the publicke good, but private game,
Which we preserve above mankinde; this is
But what's objected to the souldier; he
Will fight against his brother for reward,
Men ought to follow their vocation;
The fountaine of our livelyhood is profit,
Without which, honour challenging the skill
To nourish arts, cannot provide us clothes,
Nor vertue, noys'd to be the greatest good,
Procure us bread. Nor yet is our profession
More cruell then the gravest; I have heard
Of Lawyers, that are priviledg'd to cut
Their clyents throats, with a perplext Indenture,
A parchment Saw. The learn'd Physitian
Following the long and beneficiall way
Of reverend Galen, by degrees will purge
The humours of his Patient, till he leaves
Nothing but bores for death, and hungry wormes
To gnaw upon; as for his pliant skinne,
That, while he lives, by pieces is pul'd off,
Till he be wholly flea'd: the Vsurer,
I'st not his use to blinde men first in bonds,
And bring 'um then to execution,
Extending both their bodies and their lands
Vpon a racke; we are more pitifull,
And by an unexpected way dispatch
Quicker then lightning, or a cunning heads-man,
For all the ill of death is apprehension;
How's Jmperiale wrong'd? if when he hath
But newly said his prayers, I release him
From the ensuing miseries of age;
And when that work's perform'd, my charity
May doe as much for Spinola himselfe,
Provided I be offer'd like conditions:
My hand of justice is not partiall.
But soft, this pleasing contemplation
May make m'omit the time of action,
Which now drawes neere; my plot is so contriv'd,
That being pursu'd with resolution,
It cannot want successe; our best designes
Are often crost, when through a fond remorse
We change our counsels: few have learn'd the skill
To be or wholly good, or wholly ill.

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