University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Enter Brachiano at one Door, Francisco and Montacelsi at the contrary.
Bra.
Now you and I are Friends, Sir, we'll shake hands,
In a Friend's Grave together; a fit Place,
Being the Emblem of soft Peace, to atone our Hatred.

Fra.
Sir, what's the Matter?

Bra.
I will not chase more Blood from that lov'd Cheek:
You have lost too much already—Fare you well.

[Exit.
Fra.
How strange these Words sound! What's th'Interpretation?

Fla.

Good: This is a Preface to the Discovery of the Dutchess's
Death; he carries it well—Because now I cannot counterfeit
a whining Passion for the Death of my Lady, I will feign a mad
Humour for the Disgrace of my Sister, and that will keep off
idle Questions: I will talk to any Man, hear no Man, and for a
time appear a Politick Madman.

[Exit.
Enter Giovanni in Mourning, Ludovico, Gasparo, Antonio, Attendants.
Fra.
How now my noble Cosin? What, in Black?

Giov.
Yes, Uncle; I was taught to imitate you
In Virtue, and you must imitate me
In Colour of your Garments; my sweet Mother
Is—

Fra.
How! Where?

Giov.
Is there—no, yonder:—Indeed, Sir, I'll not tell you,
For I shall make you weep.

Fra.
Is dead.

Giov.
Do not blame me now,
I did not tell you so.

Lud.
She's dead, my Lord.

Mont.
Unhappy Lady!
Thou art now above thy Woes.
Wil't please your Lordships to withdraw a little.

Giov.
What do the Dead do, Uncle? Do they eat,
Hear Musick, go a Hunting and be merry,
As we that live?

Fra.
No, Cuz, they sleep.

Giov.
Sleep!—That I were dead then,
I have not slept these six Nights—When do they awake?

Fra.
Sweet Innocence!

Giov.
Let her sleep ever, for I have known her wake a hundred Nights;
When all the Pillow where she laid her Head,
Was brine wet with her Tears—I am to complain to you, Sir.
I'll tell you how they've us'd her now she's dead
They wrapt her in a cruel Fold of Lead,
And would not let me kiss her.

Fra.
Thou did'st love her.

Giov.
I've often heard her say she gave me suck,
And it should seem by that she dearly lov'd me,
Since Princes seldom do it.

Fra.
O All of my poor Sister that remains!
Take him away for pity.

Mon.
How now, my Lord?

Fra.
Believe me, I am nothing but her Grave,
And I shall keep her blessed Memory,
Longer than thousand Epitaphs.

Mont.
Come, my Lord, now we are alone let me entreat you,
Untie your folded Thoughts, and let them dangle loose, as a Bride's Hair.
Your Sister's poison'd.

Fra.
Far be it from my Thoughts to seek Revenge.

Mon.
What, Are you turn'd all Marble?

Fra.
Shall I defy him, and impose a War
Most burthensom on my poor Subjects Necks,
Which at my Will I have not Power to end.

Mon.
That's not the Course I'de wish you; pray observe,
We see that Undermining more prevails,
Than doth the Cannon. Bear your Wrongs conceal'd,
And patient as the Tortoise; let this Camel
Stalk o'er your Back unbruis'd: Sleep with the Lion,
And let this Brood of secure foolish Mice,
Play with your Nostrils, till the time be ripe
For th'bloody Audit, and the fatal Gripe.

Fra.
Free me, my Innocence, from treacherous Acts,
I know there's Thunder yonder: and I'll stand,
Like a safe Valley, which low bends the Knee
To some aspiring Mountain:
To pass away these Thoughts, my honour'd Lord,
It is reported you possess a Book
Wherein you have quoted, by Intelligence,
The Names of all notorious Offenders,
Lurking about the City.

Mon.
Sir, I do; and some there are, who call it my black Book.

Fra.
Pray let's see it.

Mon.
I will not trust thee, but in all my Plots,
[Aside.
I'll rest as jealous as a Town besieg'd;
Thou canst not reach what I intend to act;
Your Flax soon kindles, soon is out again,
But Gold slow heats, and long will hot remain.
'Tis here, my Lord.

[Presents a Book to Fran.
Fra.
First your Intelligencers, pray let's see,
Their Number rises strangely.

Mon.
And some of them,
You'd take for honest Men, the rest are Panders;
These are your Pyrates; and these following Leaves
For base Rogues, that undo young Gentlemen
By taking up Commodities; for Politick Bankrupts,
For Fellows that are Bawds to their own Wives.

Fra.
Are there such?

Mon.
These are impudent Bawds,
That go in Man's Apparel; for Usurers
That share with Scriv'ners for a good Report;
For Lawyers that will antedate their Deeds;
Here is a general Catalogue of Knaves:
A Man might study all the Prisons o'er,
Yet never attain this Knowledge.

Fra.
Murderers; fold down the Leaf I pray:
Good my Lord, let me borrow this strange Doctrine,

Mon.
Pray use't my Lord.

Fra.
I do assure your Lordship,
You are a worthy Member of the State,
And have done vast good in your Discovery,
Of these Offenders.

Mon.
Somewhat Sir.

Fra.
Better than Tribute of Wolves paid in England.
'Twill hang their Skins o'th Hedge.

Mon.
I must make bold,
To leave your Lordship.

[Exit Monticelso.
Fra.
Dear Sir I thank you.
If any ask for me at Court, report,
You have left me in the Company of Knaves.
Now to the use I'll make of it, it shall serve
To point me out a List of Murderers,
Agents for any Villany.
To fashion my Revenge more seriously,
Let me remember my dead Sister's Face,
Call for her Picture? No, I'll close my Eyes,
And in a melancholy Thought I'll frame
Her Figure for me. Now I hav't—how strong
[Enter Ghost of Isabella.
Imagination works! How she can frame
Things which are not! Methinks she stands afore me,
And by the quick Idea of my Mind,
Were my skill Pregnant, I could draw her Picture;
'Tis my Melancholy.
How cam'st thou by thy Death?—How idle am I,
To question my own Idleness!—Did ever
Man dream awake till now? Remove this Object
Out of my Brain with't, what have I to do
With Tombs and Death-bed's, Funerals or Tears,
That have to meditate upon Revenge!
So now 'tis ended, like an old Wife's Story:
[Ghost sinks.
Statesmen think often they see stranger Sights,
Than Mad-men, come to this weighty Business;
My Tragedy must have some idle Mirth in't,
Else it will never pass. I am in Love,
[Sits down thinks.
In Love with Corombona; and my Suit
Thus halts to her in Verse—
[He Writes.
I have done it rarely, O the Fate of Princes!
I am so us'd to frequent Flattery my self;
But it will serve, 'tis Seal'd; who waits bear this
To'th House of Converts; and watch your Leisure,
[Enter Serv.
To give it to the hands of Corombona,
Or to the Matron, when some Followers
Of Brachiano may be by. Away,
[Exit Servant.
The Engine for my Business, bold Count Ludowick,
'Tis Gold must such an Instrument procure,
With empty Fist no Man doth Falcon's Lure.
Brachiano I am now fit for thy Encounter,
Like gathering Thunder my Revenge seems slow,
But fatal when it breaks, you'l find the Blow.

[Ex. Francisco.