The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
A SELECT COLLECTION
OF
OLD ENGLISH PLAYS.
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY ROBERT DODSLEY IN THE YEAR 1744.
FOURTH EDITION,
NOW FIRST CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED, REVISED AND ENLARGED WITH THE NOTES OF ALL THE COMMENTATORS, AND NEW NOTES
BY
W. CAREW HAZLITT.
BENJAMIN BLOM, INC.
New York
First published 1874-1876
Reissued 1964 by Benjamin Blom, Inc.
L.C. Catalog Card No. 64-14702
Printed in U.S.A. by
NOBLE OFFSET PRINTERS, INC.
New York 3, N. Y.
THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY.
For a notice of the Edition, see the next page.
INTRODUCTION.
Cyril Torneur is known only as an author, none of the dramatic biographers giving any account of him. Winstanley quotes the following distich from a contemporary poet, by which it appears that he was not held in much estimation for his writings—
"His fame unto that pitch was only rais'd,
As not to be despis'd, nor over-prais'd."
He was the author of—
[(1.) The Transformed Metamorphosis, a Poem. 8o, London, 1600.[1]]
(2.) The Revengers Tragœdie. As it hath beene sundry times Acted by the Kings Maiesties Seruants. At London. Printed by G. Eld, and are to be sold at his house in Fleete-lane at the signe of the Printers-Presse. 1607, 4o. Again (a new date only) 1608, 4o.[2]
(3.) "The Atheists Tragedie: Or The honest Mans Reuenge. As in diuers places it hath often beene Acted. Written by Cyril Tourneur. At London Printed for John Stepneth and Richard Redmer, and are to be sold at their shop, at the West end of Paules. 1611,"[3] 4o. Again, 1612, 4o.
(4.) A Traji-Comedy, called The Nobleman, never printed, and which Oldys says was destroyed by ignorance.[4]
(5.) A Funerall Poeme. Vpon the Death of the most Worthie and Trve Sovldier: Sir Francis Vere, Knight, Captaine of Portsmouth, L. Gouernour of his Maiesties Cautionarie Towne of Briell in Holland, &c., 4o, 1609.
(6.) A Griefe on the Death of Prince Henrie. Expressed in a broken Elegie, according to the nature of such a sorrow, 4o, 1613.[5]
[A MS. note in one of the former editions says: "This is a most splendid work. The character of Vendice surpasses anything else of the kind. The power with which it is conceived and conducted is appalling. The quaint way that accompanies it adds to its fearful effect. The whole is perfectly tremendous.">[
FOOTNOTES:
[1] [See Hazlitt's "Handbook," 1867, art. Tourneur, in Appendix.]
[2] "The Revenger's Tragedy" was entered on the Stationers' Books, with "A Trick to Catch the Old One," on the 7th October 1607.
[3] There are some good passages in this play, but upon the whole it is considerably inferior to "The Revenger's Tragedy." The plot is unnatural, and the manner in which the catastrophe is brought about ludicrous.—Collier.
[4] It is very probable that Tourneur was concerned in other dramatic productions, which are either anonymous, or have been lost. He is mentioned in the following terms by Robert Daborne in a letter to P. Henslowe, dated 5th June 1613: "I have not only laboured my own play, which shall be ready before they (the company) come over, but given Cyrill Tourneur an act of the 'Arraignment of London' to write, yt we may have that likewise ready for them."—Collier.
[5] [This is part of a volume entitled, "Three Elegies on the most Lamented Death of Prince Henrie," 1613. The others are by John Webster and T. Heywood.] After the title comes a prose dedication, "To my noble Maister George Carie," and four lines "To the Reader." At the end of the "Griefe" are verses "On the representation of the Prince at his funeralle," and "On the succession," each in eight lines.—Gilchrist.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.[6]
- Duke.
- Duchess.
- Vendice, disguised as Piato, } Brothers to Castiza.
- Hippolito, also called Carlo, }
- Lusurioso, the Duke's Son.
- Spurio, a Bastard.
- Ambitioso, The Duchess's eldest Son.
- Supervacuo, second Son to the Duchess.
- A third Son to the Duchess.
- Antonio.
- Piero.
- Dondolo.
-
Judges.
- Castiza.
- Gratiana, Mother of Catiza.
The Scene, Italy.
FOOTNOTES:
[6] [Not in the old copy.]
THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY.
ACTUS I., SCÆNA 1.[7]
Enter Vendice. The Duke, Duchess, Lusurioso the Duke's son, Spurio the bastard, with a train, pass over the stage with torchlight.
Ven.[8] Duke! royal lecher! go, grey-hair'd adultery!
And thou his son, as impious steep'd as he:
And thou his bastard, true begot in evil:
And thou his duchess, that will do with devil:
Four exc'llent characters! O, that marrowless age
Should stuff the hollow bones with damn'd desires!
And, 'stead of heat, kindle infernal fires
Within the spendthrift veins of a dry duke,
A parch'd and juiceless luxur.[9] O God! one,
That has scarce blood enough to live upon;
And he to riot it, like a son and heir!
O, the thought of that
Turns my abused heart-strings into fret.
Thou sallow picture of my poison'd love,
[Views the skull in his hand.
My study's ornament, thou shell of death,
Once the bright face of my betrothed lady,
When life and beauty naturally fill'd out
These ragged imperfections;
When two heaven-pointed diamonds were set
In those unsightly rings—then 'twas a face
So far beyond the artificial shine
Of any woman's bought complexion,
That the uprightest man (if such there be,
That sin but seven times a day) broke custom,
And made up eight with looking after her.
O, she was able to ha' made a usurer's son
Melt all his patrimony in a kiss;
And what his father [in] fifty years told,
To have consum'd, and yet his suit been cold.
But, O accursed palace!
Thee, when thou wert apparell'd in thy flesh,
The old duke poison'd,
Because thy purer part would not consent
Unto his palsied[10] lust; for old men lustful
Do show like young men angry: eager, violent,
Outbid, [be]like, their limited performances.
O, 'ware an old man hot and vicious!
"Age, as in gold, in lust is covetous."
Vengeance, thou murder's quit-rent, and whereby
Thou show'st thyself tenant to tragedy;
O, keep thy day, hour, minute, I beseech,
For those thou hast determin'd. Hum! whoe'er knew
Murder unpaid? faith, give revenge her due,
Sh' has kept touch hitherto: be merry, merry,
Advance thee, O thou terror to fat folks!
To have their costly three-pil'd flesh worn off
As bare as this; for banquets, ease, and laughter
Can make great men, as greatness goes by clay;
But wise men little are more great than they.
Enter Hippolito.
Hip. Still sighing o'er death's vizard?
Ven. Brother, welcome!
What comfort bring'st thou? how go things at court?
Hip. In silk and silver, brother: never braver.
Ven. Puh!
Thou play'st upon my meaning. Prythee, say,
Has that bald madman, opportunity,
Yet thought upon's? speak, are we happy yet?
Thy wrongs and mine are for one scabbard fit.
Hip. It may prove happiness.
Ven. What is't may prove?
Give me to taste.
Hip. Give me your hearing, then.
You know my place at court?
Ven. Ay, the duke's chamber!
But 'tis a marvel thou'rt not turn'd out yet!
Hip. Faith, I've been shov'd at; but 'twas still my hap
To hold by th' duchess' skirt: you guess at that:
Whom such a coat keeps up, can ne'er fall flat.
But to the purpose—
Last evening, predecessor unto this,
The duke's son warily inquir'd for me,
Whose pleasure I attended: he began
By policy to open and unhusk me
About the fame[11] and common rumour:
But I had so much wit to keep my thoughts
Up in their built houses; yet afforded him
An idle satisfaction without danger.
But the whole aim and scope of his intent
Ended in this: conjuring me in private
To seek some strange-digested fellow forth,
Of ill-contented nature; either disgrac'd
In former times, or by new grooms displac'd,
Since his step-mother's nuptials; such a blood,
A man that were for evil only good—
To give you the true word, some base-coin'd pander.
Ven. I reach you; for I know his heat is such,
Were there as many concubines as ladies,
He would not be contain'd; he must fly out.
I wonder how ill-featur'd, vile-proportion'd,
That one should be, if she were made for woman
Whom, at the insurrection of his lust,
He would refuse for once. Heart! I think none.
Next to a skull, though more unsound than one,
Each face he meets he strongly doats upon.
Hip. Brother, y' have truly spoke him.
He knows not you, but I will swear you know him.
Ven. And therefore I'll put on that knave for once,
And be a right man then, a man o' th' time;
For to be honest is not to be i' th' world.
Brother, I'll be that strange-composed fellow.
Hip. And I'll prefer you, brother.
Ven. Go to, then:
The smallest advantage fattens wronged men:
It may point out occasion, if I meet her,
I'll hold her by the foretop fast enough;
Or, like the French Mole,[12] heave up hair and all.
I have a habit that will fit it quaintly.
Here comes our mother.
Hip. And sister.
Ven. We must coin:
Women are apt, you know, to take false money;
But I dare stake my soul for these two creatures,
Only excuse excepted, that they'll swallow,
Because their sex is easy in belief.
Enter Gratiana and Castiza.
Gra. What news from court, son Carlo?
Hip. Faith, mother,
Tis whisper'd there the duchess' youngest son
Has play'd a rape on Lord Antonio's wife.
Gra. On that religious lady!
Cas. Royal blood! monster, he deserves to die,
If Italy had no more hopes but he.
Ven. Sister, y'have sentenc'd most direct and true,
The law's a woman, and would she were you.
Mother, I must take leave of you.
Gra. Leave! for what?
Ven. I intend speedy travel.
Hip. That he does, madam.
Gra. Speedy indeed!
Ven. For since my worthy father's funeral,
My life's unnatural[13] to me, even compell'd;
As if I liv'd now, when I should be dead.
Gra. Indeed, he was a worthy gentleman,
Had his estate been fellow to his mind.
Ven. The duke did much deject him.
Gra. Much?
Ven. Too much:
And though disgrace oft smother'd in his spirit,
When it would mount, surely I think he died
Of discontent, the noble man's consumption.
Ven. Did he? 'lack! you know all:
You were his midnight secretary.
Gra. No,
He was too wise to trust me with his thoughts.
Ven. I' faith, then, father, thou wast wise indeed;
"Wives are but made to go to bed and feed."
Come, mother, sister: you'll bring me onward,[14] brother?
Hip. I will.
Ven. I'll quickly turn into another. [Aside. Exeunt.
Enter the old Duke, Lusurioso his son, the Duchess: the Bastard, the Duchess's two sons Ambitioso and Supervacuo; the third, her youngest, brought out with Officers for the rape. Two Judges.
Duke. Duchess, it is your youngest son, we're sorry,
His violent act has e'en drawn blood of honour,
And stain'd our honours;
Thrown ink upon the forehead of our state;
Which envious spirits will dip their pens into
After our death; and blot us in our tombs:
For that which would seem treason in our lives
Is laughter, when we're dead. Who dares now whisper,
That dares not then speak out, and e'en proclaim
With loud words and broad pens our closest shame?
Judge. Your grace hath spoke like to your silver years,
Full of confirmed gravity; for what is it to have
A flattering false insculption[15] on a tomb,
And in men's hearts reproach? the bowell'd corpse
May be sear'd in, but (with free tongue I speak)
The faults of great men through their sear-cloths break.
Duke. They do; we're sorry for't: it is our fate
To live in fear, and die to live in hate.
I leave him to your sentence; doom him, lords—
The fact is great—whilst I sit by and sigh.
Duch. My gracious lord, I pray be merciful:
Although his trespass far exceed his years,
Think him to be your own, as I am yours;
Call him not son-in-law: the law, I fear,
Will fall too soon upon his name and him:
Temper his fault with pity.
Lus. Good my lord,
Then 'twill not taste so bitter and unpleasant
Upon the judges' palate; for offences,
Gilt o'er with mercy, show like fairest women,
Good only for their beauties, which wash'd off,
No sin is uglier.[16]
Amb. I beseech your grace,
Be soft and mild; let not relentless law
Look with an iron forehead on our brother.
Spu. He yields small comfort yet [or] hope he shall die;
And if a bastard's wish might stand in force,
Would all the court were turn'd into a corse! [Aside.
Duch. No pity yet? must I rise fruitless then?
A wonder in a woman! are my knees
Of such low metal, that without respect——
1st Judge. Let the offender stand forth:
'Tis the duke's pleasure, that impartial doom
Shall take fast hold of his unclean attempt.
A rape! why 'tis the very core of lust—
Double adultery.
2d Judge. And which was worse,
Committed on the Lord Antonio's wife,
That general honest lady. Confess, my lord,
What mov'd you to't?
Jun. Why, flesh and blood, my lord;
What should move men unto a woman else?
Lus. O, do not jest thy doom! trust not an axe
Or sword too far: the law is a wise serpent,
And quickly can beguile thee of thy life.
Though marriage only has made thee my brother,
I love thee so far, play not with thy death.
Jun, I thank you, troth; good admonitions, faith,
If I'd the grace now to make use of them.
1st Judge. That lady's name has spread such a fair wing
Over all Italy, that if our tongues
Were sparing toward the fact, judgment itself
Would be condemn'd, and suffer in men's thoughts.
Jun. Well then, 'tis done; and it would please me well,
Were it to do again: sure, she's a goddess,
For I'd no power to see her, and to live.
It falls out true in this, for I must die;
Her beauty was ordain'd to be my scaffold.
And yet, methinks, I might be easier 'sess'd:
My fault being sport, let me but die in jest.
1st Judge. This be the sentence——
Duch. O, keep't upon your tongue; let it not slip;
Death too soon steals out of a lawyer's lip.
Be not so cruel-wise!
1st Judge. Your grace must pardon us;
'Tis but the justice of the law.
Duch. The law
Is grown more subtle than a woman should be.
Spu. Now, now he dies! rid 'em away. [Aside.
Duch. O, what it is to have an old cool duke,
To be as slack in tongue as in performance! [Aside.
1st Judge. Confirm'd, this be the doom irrevocable.
Duch. O!
1st Judge. To-morrow early——
Duch. Pray be abed, my lord.
1st Judge. Your grace much wrongs yourself.
Amb. No, 'tis that tongue:
Your too much right does do us too much wrong.
1st Judge. Let that offender——
Duch. Live, and be in health.
1st Judge. Be on a scaffold——-
Duke. Hold, hold, my lord!
Spu. Pox on't,
What makes my dad speak now?
Duke. We will defer the judgment till next sitting:
In the meantime, let him be kept close prisoner.
Guard, bear him hence.
Amb. Brother, this makes for thee;
Fear not, we'll have a trick to set thee free. [Aside.
Jun. Brother, I will expect it from you both;
And in that hope I rest. [Aside.
Sup. Farewell, be merry. [Exit with a guard.
Spu. Delay'd! deferr'd! nay then, if judgment have cold blood,
Flattery and bribes will kill it.
Duke. About it, then, my lords, with your best powers:
More serious business calls upon our hours.
[Exeunt, manet Duchess.
Duch. Was't ever known step-duchess was so mild
And calm as I? some now would plot his death
With easy doctors, those loose-living men,
And make his wither'd grace fall to his grave,
And keep church better.
Some second wife would do this, and despatch
Her double-loathed lord at meat or sleep.
Indeed, 'tis true, an old man's twice a child;
Mine cannot speak; one of his single words
Would quite have freed my youngest dearest son
From death or durance, and have made him walk
With a bold foot upon the thorny law,
Whose prickles should bow under him; but 'tis not,
And therefore wedlock-faith shall be forgot:
I'll kill him in his forehead; hate, there feed;
That wound is deepest, though it never bleed.
And here comes he whom my heart points unto,
His bastard son, but my love's true-begot;
Many a wealthy letter have I sent him,
Swell'd up with jewels, and the timorous man
Is yet but coldly kind.
That jewel's mine that quivers in his ear,
Mocking his master's dullness and vain fear.
H' has spied me now!
Enter Spurio.[17]
Spu. Madam, your grace so private?
My duty on your hand.
Duch. Upon my hand, sir! troth, I think you'd fear
To kiss my hand too, if my lip stood there.
Spu. Witness I would not, madam. [Kisses her.
Duch. 'Tis a wonder,
For ceremony has made many fools![18]
It is as easy way unto a duchess,
As to a hatted dame,[19] if her love answer:
But that by timorous humours,[20] pale respects,
Idle degrees of fear, men make their ways
Hard of themselves. What, have you thought of me?
Spu. Madam, I ever think of you in duty,
Regard, and——
Duch. Puh! upon my love, I mean.
Spu. I would 'twere love; but 'tis a fouler name
Than lust: you are my father's wife—your grace may guess now
What I could call it.
Duch. Why, th' art his son but falsely;
'Tis a hard question whether he begot thee.
Spu. I' faith, 'tis true: I'm an uncertain man
Of more uncertain woman. Maybe, his groom
O' th' stable begot me; you know I know not;
He could ride a horse well, a shrewd suspicion, marry!—
He was wondrous tall: he had his length, i' faith;
For peeping over half-shut holyday windows,
Men would desire him light, when he was afoot.
He made a goodly show under a pent-house;
And when he rid, his hat would check the signs,
And clatter barbers' basons.
Duch. Nay, set you a-horseback once,
You'll ne'er light off.[21]
Spu. Indeed, I am a beggar.
Duch. That's the more sign thou'rt great.—
But to our love:
Let it stand firm both in thy thought and mind,
That the duke was thy father, as no doubt
He bid fair for't—-thy injury is the more;
For had he cut thee a right diamond,
Thou had'st been next set in the dukedom's ring,
When his worn self, like age's easy slave,
Had dropp'd out of the collet[22] into th' grave.
What wrong can equal this? canst thou be tame,
And think upon't?
Spu. No, mad, and think upon't.
Duch. Who would not be reveng'd of such a father,
E'en in the worst way? I would thank that sin,
That could most injure him, and be in league with it.
O, what a grief 'tis that a man should live
But once i' th' world, and then to live a bastard!
The curse o' the womb, the thief of nature,
Begot against the seventh commandment,
Half-damn'd in the conception by the justice
Of that unbribed, everlasting law.
Spu. O, I'd a hot-back'd devil to my father.
Duch. Would not this mad e'en patience, make blood rough?
Who but an eunuch would not sin? his bed,
By one false minute disinherited.
Spu. Ay, there's the vengeance that my birth was wrapp'd in!
I'll be reveng'd for all: now, hate, begin;
I'll call foul incest but a venial sin.
Duch. Cold still! in vain then must a duchess woo?
Spu. Madam, I blush to say what I will do.
Duch. Thence flew sweet comfort. Earnest, and farewell.
[Kisses him.
Spu. O, one incestuous kiss picks open hell.
Duch. Faith now, old duke, my vengeance shall reach high,
I'll arm thy brow with woman's heraldry. [Exit.
Spu. Duke, thou didst do me wrong; and, by thy act
Adultery is my nature.
Faith, if the truth were known, I was begot
After some gluttonous dinner; some stirring dish
Was my first father, when deep healths went round,
And ladies' cheeks were painted red with wine,
Their tongues, as short and nimble as their heels,
Uttering words sweet and thick; and when they rose,
Were merrily dispos'd to fall again.
In such a whisp'ring and withdrawing hour,
When base male-bawds kept sentinel at stair-head,
Was I stol'n softly. O damnation meet![23]
The sin of feasts, drunken adultery!
I feel it swell me; my revenge is just!
I was begot in impudent wine and lust.
Step-mother, I consent to thy desires;
I love thy mischief well; but I hate thee
And those three cubs thy sons, wishing confusion,
Death and disgrace may be their epitaphs.
As for my brother, the duke's only son,
Whose birth is more beholding to report
Than mine, and yet perhaps as falsely sown
(Women must not be trusted with their own),
I'll loose my days upon him, hate-all-I;
Duke, on thy brow I'll draw my bastardy:
For indeed a bastard by nature should make cuckolds,
Because he is the son of a cuckold-maker. [Exit.
Enter Vendice and Hippolito. Vendice in disguise, to attend L. Lusurioso, the duke's son.
Ven. What, brother, am I far enough from myself?
Hip. As if another man had been sent whole
Into the world, and none wist how he came.
Ven. It will confirm me bold—the child o' th' court;
Let blushes dwell i' th' country. Impudence!
Thou goddess of the palace, mistress of mistresses,
To whom the costly perfum'd people pray,
Strike thou my forehead into dauntless marble,
Mine eyes to steady sapphires. Turn my visage;
And, if I must needs glow, let me blush inward,
That this immodest season may not spy
That scholar in my cheeks, fool bashfulness;
That maid in the old time, whose flush of grace
Would never suffer her to get good clothes.
Our maids are wiser, and are less asham'd;
Save Grace the bawd, I seldom hear grace nam'd!
Hip. Nay, brother, you reach out o' th' verge now——
'Sfoot, the duke's son! settle your looks.
Ven. Pray, let me not be doubted.
Hip. My lord——
Enter Lusurioso.
Lus. Hippolito—be absent, leave us!
Hip. My lord, after long search, wary inquiries,
And politic siftings, I made choice of yon fellow,
Whom I guess rare for many deep employments:
This our age swims within him; and if Time
Had so much hair, I should take him for Time,
He is so near kin to this present minute.
Lus. 'Tis enough;
We thank thee: yet words are but great men's blanks;
Gold, though it be dumb, does utter the best thanks.
[Gives him money.
Hip. Your plenteous honour! an excellent fellow, my lord.
Lus. So, give us leave—[Exit Hippolito.] welcome, be not far off; we must be better acquainted: pish, be bold with us—thy hand.
Ven. With all my heart, i' faith: how dost, sweet musk-cat?
When shall we lie together?
Lus. Wondrous knave,
Gather him into boldness! 'sfoot, the slave's
Already as familiar as an ague,
And shakes me at his pleasure. Friend, I can
Forget myself in private; but elsewhere
I pray do you remember me.
Ven. O, very well, sir—I conster myself saucy.
Lus. What hast been?
Of what profession?
Ven. A bone-setter.
Lus. A bone-setter!
Ven. A bawd, my lord—
One that sets bones together.
Lus. Notable bluntness!
Fit, fit for me; e'en train'd up to my hand:
Thou hast been scrivener to much knavery, then?
Ven. Fool to abundance, sir: I have been witness
To the surrenders of a thousand virgins;
And not so little
I have seen patrimonies wash'd a-pieces,
Fruit-fields turn'd into bastards,
And in a world of acres
Not so much dust due to the heir 'twas left to
As would well gravel[24] a petition.
Lus. Fine villain! troth, I like him wondrously:
He's e'en shap'd for my purpose. [Aside.] Then thou know'st
I' th' world strange lust?
Ven. O Dutch lust! fulsome lust!
Drunken procreation! which begets so many drunkards:
Some fathers dread not (gone to bed in wine) to slide from the mother,
And cling the daughter-in-law;[25]
Some uncles are adulterous with their nieces:
Brothers with brothers' wives. O hour of incest!
Any kin now, next to the rim o' th' sister,[26]
Is man's meat in these days; and in the morning,
When they are up and dress'd, and their mask on,
Who can perceive this, save that eternal eye,
That sees through flesh and all? Well, if anything be damn'd,
It will be twelve o'clock at night; that twelve
Will never 'scape;
It is the Judas of the hours, wherein
Honest salvation is betray'd to sin.
Lus. In troth, it is true; but let this talk glide.
It is our blood to err, though hell gape wide.[27]
Ladies know Lucifer fell, yet still are proud.
Now, sir, wert thou as secret as thou'rt subtle,
And deeply fathom'd into all estates,
I would embrace thee for a near employment;
And thou shouldst swell in money, and be able
To make lame beggars crouch to thee.
Ven. My lord.
Secret! I ne'er had that disease o' th' mother,
I praise my father: why are men made close,
But to keep thoughts in best? I grant you this,
Tell but some women a secret over night,
Your doctor may find it in the urinal i' th' morning.
But, my lord——
Lus. So thou'rt confirm'd in me,
And thus I enter thee. [Gives him money.
Ven. This Indian devil
Will quickly enter any man but a usurer;
He prevents that by entering the devil first.
Lus. Attend me. I am past my depth in lust,
And I must swim or drown. All my desires
Are levell'd at a virgin not far from court,
To whom I have convey'd by messenger
Many wax'd lines, full of my neatest spirit,
And jewels that were able to ravish her
Without the help of man; all which and more
She (foolish chaste) sent back, the messengers
Receiving frowns for answers.
Ven. Possible!
'Tis a rare Phœnix, whoe'er she be.
If your desires be such, she so repugnant,
In troth, my lord, I'd be reveng'd, and marry her.
Lus. Pish! the dowry of her blood and of her fortunes
Are both too mean—good enough to be bad withal.
I'm one of that number can defend
Marriage as good;[28] yet rather keep a friend.
Give me my bed by stealth—there's true delight;
What breeds a loathing in't, but night by night!
Ven. A very fine religion!
Lus. Therefore, thus
I'll trust thee in the business of my heart;
Because I see thee well-experienc'd
In this luxurious day, wherein we breathe.
Go thou, and with a smooth, enchanting tongue
Bewitch her ears, and cosen her of all grace:
Enter upon the portico[29] of her soul—
Her honour, which she calls her chastity,
And bring it into expense; for honesty
Is like a stock of money laid to sleep
Which, ne'er so little broke, does never keep.
Ven. You have gi'n 't the tang, i' faith, my lord:
Make known the lady to me, and my brain
Shall swell with strange invention: I will move it,
Till I expire with speaking, and drop down
Without a word to save me—but I'll work——
Lus. We thank thee, and will raise thee—
Receive her name; it is the only daughter to
Madam Gratiana, the late widow.
Ven. O my sister, my sister! [Aside.
Lus. Why dost walk aside?
Ven. My lord, I was thinking how I might begin:
As thus, O lady—or twenty hundred devices—
Her very bodkin will put a man in.
Lus. Ay, or the wagging of her hair.
Ven. No, that shall put you in, my lord.
Lus. Shall't? why, content. Dost know the daughter, then?
Ven. O, excellent well by sight.
Lus. That was her brother,
That did prefer thee to us.
Ven. My lord, I think so;
I knew I had seen him somewhere——
Lus. And therefore, prythee, let thy heart to him
Be (as a virgin) close.
Ven. O my good lord.
Lus. We may laugh at that simple age within him.
Ven. Ha, ha, ha!
Lus. Himself being made the subtle instrument,
To wind up a good fellow.
Ven. That's I, my lord.
Lus. That's thou,
To entice and work his sister.
Ven. A pure novice!
Lus. 'Twas finely manag'd.
Ven. Gallantly carried!
A pretty perfum'd villain!
Lus. I've bethought me,
If she prove chaste still and immovable,
Venture upon the mother; and with gifts,
As I will furnish thee, begin with her.
Ven. O, fie, fie! that's the wrong end, my lord. 'Tis mere impossible that a mother, by any gifts, should become a bawd to her own daughter!
Lus. Nay, then, I see thou'rt but a puisne
In the subtle mystery of a woman.
Why, 'tis held now no dainty dish: the name
Is so in league with age, that nowadays
It does eclipse three quarters of a mother.
Ven. Does it so, my lord?
Let me alone, then, to eclipse the fourth.
Lus. Why, well-said—come, I'll furnish thee; but first
Swear to be true in all.
Ven. True!
Lus. Nay, but swear.
Ven. Swear?—I hope your honour little doubts my faith.
Lus. Yet, for my humour's sake, 'cause I love swearing——
Ven. 'Cause you love swearing, 'slud, I will.
Lus. Why, enough!
Ere long look to be made of better stuff.
Ven. That will do well indeed, my lord.
Lus. Attend me. [Exit.
Ven. O!
Now let me burst. I've eaten noble poison;
We are made strange fellows, brother, innocent villains!
Wilt not be angry, when thou hear'st on't, think'st thou?
I' faith, thou shalt: swear me to foul my sister!
Sword, I durst make a promise of him to thee;
Thou shalt disheir him; it shall be thine honour.
And yet, now angry froth is down in me,
It would not prove the meanest policy,
In this disguise, to try the faith of both.
Another might have had the selfsame office;
Some slave that would have wrought effectually,
Ay, and perhaps o'erwrought 'em; therefore I,
Being thought-travell'd, will apply myself
Unto the selfsame form, forget my nature,
As if no part about me were kin to 'em,
So touch 'em;—though I durst almost for good
Venture my lands in heaven upon their blood.[30] [Exit.
Enter the discontented Lord Antonio, whose wife the Duchess's youngest son ravished: he discovering the body of her dead to certain Lords and Hippolito.
Ant. Draw nearer, lords, and be sad witnesses
Of a fair comely building newly fall'n,
Being falsely undermin'd. Violent rape
Has play'd a glorious act: behold, my lords,
A sight that strikes man out of me.
Piero. That virtuous lady!
Ant. President for wives!
Hip. The blush of many women, whose chaste presence
Would e'en call shame up to their cheeks, and make
Pale wanton sinners have good colours——
Ant. Dead!
Her honour first drank poison, and her life,
Being fellows in one house, did pledge her honour.
Piero. O, grief of many!
Ant. I mark'd not this before—
A prayer-book, the pillow to her cheek:
This was her rich confection; and another
Plac'd in her right hand, with a leaf tuck'd up,
Pointing to these words—
Melius virtute mori, quam per dedecus vivere:
True and effectual it is indeed.
Hip. My lord, since you invite us to your sorrows,
Let's truly taste 'em, that with equal comfort,
As to ourselves, we may relieve your wrongs:
We have grief too, that yet walks without tongue;
Curæ leves loquuntur, majores stupent.
Ant. You deal with truth, my lord,
Lend me but your attentions, and I'll cut
Long grief into short words. Last revelling night,
When torch-light made an artificial noon
About the court, some courtiers in the masque,
Putting on better faces than their own,
Being full of fraud and flattery—amongst whom
The duchess' youngest son (that moth to honour)
Fill'd up a room, and with long lust to eat
Into my warren,[31] amongst all the ladies
Singled out that dear form, who ever liv'd
As cold in lust as she is now in death,
(Which that step-duchess monster knew too well)
And therefore in the height of all the revels,
When music was heard loudest, courtiers busiest,
And ladies great with laughter—O vicious minute!
Unfit but for relation to be spoke of:
Then with a face more impudent than his vizard,
He harri'd[32] her amidst a throng of panders,
That live upon damnation of both kinds,
And fed the ravenous vulture of his lust.
O death to think on't! She, her honour forc'd,
Deem'd it a nobler dowry for her name,
To die with poison, than to live with shame.
Hip. A wondrous lady! of rare fire compact;
Sh' has made her name an empress by that act.
Piero. My lord, what judgment follows the offender?
Ant. Faith, none, my lord; it cools, and is deferr'd.
Piero. Delay the doom for rape!
Ant. O, you must note who 'tis should die,
The duchess' son! she'll look to be a saver:
"Judgment, in this age, is near kin to favour."
Hip. Nay, then, step forth, thou bribeless officer:
[Draws.
I'll bind you all in steel, to bind you surely;
Here let your oaths meet, to be kept and paid,
Which else will stick like rust, and shame the blade;
Strengthen my vow that if, at the next sitting,
Judgment speak all in gold, and spare the blood
Of such a serpent e'en before their seats
To let his soul out, which long since was found
Guilty in heaven—
All. We swear it, and will act it.
Ant. Kind gentlemen, I thank you in mine heart.[33]
Hip. 'Twere pity
The ruins of so fair a monument
Should not be dipp'd in the defacer's blood.
Piero. Her funeral shall be wealthy; for her name
Merits a tomb of pearl. My Lord Antonio,
For this time wipe your lady from your eyes;
No doubt our grief and yours may one day court it,
When we are more familiar with revenge.
Ant. That is my comfort, gentlemen, and I joy
In this one happiness above the rest,
Which will be call'd a miracle at last
That, being an old man, I'd a wife so chaste. [Exeunt.
FOOTNOTES:
[7] ["There is some confusion in the arrangement of this scene. From the duke, &c., passing over the stage, it should be some open part of the duke's palace; but from the reflections on the skull, &c., it would appear to be Vendice's private study. But perhaps it was intended to represent two scenes, one above the other, as was frequently done at the period of this play."—MS. note in one of the former edits.]
[8] With a skull in his hand. That he has the skull of his mistress is evident from the whole of the scene. He makes use of it afterwards in act iii.—Collier.
[9] Luxury was the ancient appropriate term for incontinence. Hence this wanton old duke was called a luxur. See Mr Collins's note on "Troilus and Cressida," edit. 1778, ix. 166.—Steevens.
[10] [Old copy, palsy.]
[11] [Old copy, time.]
[12] This is not a name of the Lues Venerea, but a comparison only of it to a mole, on account of the effects it sometimes produces in occasioning the loss of hair.—Pegge.
[13] [Old copy, unnaturally—e'en.]
[14] A phrase in common use, signifying to accompany one.
[15] Hitherto [formerly] misprinted inscription: insculption is the word in the old quartos.—Collier.
[16] [Out of place in the mouth of housewives.—MS. note in one of the former edits.]
[17] The entrances and exits of the various characters are very defectively noticed in the old copies, and Mr Reed accurately supplied most of them.—Collier.
[18] Tourneur has urged this doctrine at greater length in the second act of his "Atheist's Tragedy," 1612.—Gilchrist.
[19] She means from the highest to the lowest of her sex. At this time women of the inferior order wore hats. See Hollar's "Ornatus Muliebris Anglicanus," 1640.
[20] [Old copy, honors.]
[21] "Set a beggar on horseback, and he'll ride a gallop. Asperius nihil est humili cum surgit in altum.—Claudian. Il n'est orgueil qui de pauvre enrichi.—Fr. There is no pride to the enriched beggar's. Il villan nobilitado non conosce il parentado.—Ital. The villain ennobled will not own his kindred or parentage."—[Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 331.]
[22] That part of a ring in which the stone is set.—Johnson's "Dictionary."
[23] [Old copy, met]
[24] i.e., Sand it, to prevent it from blotting, while the ink was wet.—Steevens.
[25] i.e., compress, embrace her. See Mr Steevens's note on "Macbeth," act v. sc. 5.
[26] That is, no degree of relationship is sufficient to restrain the appetite of lust, scarce that of sister; they even approach to the rim or verge of what is the most prohibited.
[27] The quarto reads, lowde.
[28] The quarto reads, is good.—Steevens.
[29] [Old copy, portion.]
[30] Upon their good is the misreading of one old copy.—Collier.
[31] [Old copy, wearing.]
[32] To harry, Mr Steevens observes, is to use roughly. See note to "Antony and Cleopatra," act iii. sc. 3. See also Fuller's "Church History," lib. x. p. 19.—Gilchrist.
[33] [Old copy, ire.]
ACTUS II, SCÆNA 1.
Enter Castiza, the sister.
Cas. How hardly shall that maiden be beset,
Whose only fortunes are her constant thoughts!
That has no other child's part but her honour,
That keeps her low and empty in estate;
Maids and their honours are like poor beginners;
Were not sin rich, there would be fewer sinners;
Why had not virtue a revenue? Well,
I know the cause, 'twould have impoverish'd hell.
Enter Dondolo.
How now, Dondolo?
Don. Madonna, there is one as they say, a thing of flesh and blood—a man, I take him by his beard, that would very desirously mouth to mouth with you.
Cas. What's that?
Don. Show his teeth in your company.
Cas. I understand thee not.
Don. Why, speak with you, madonna.
Cas. Why, say so, madman, and cut off a great deal of dirty way; had it not been better spoke in ordinary words, that one would speak with me?
Don. Ha, ha! that's as ordinary as two shillings. I would strive a little to show myself in my place; a gentleman-usher scorns to use the phrase and fancy of a serving-man.
Cas. Yours be your own, sir; go, direct him hither;
[Exit Dondolo.
I hope some happy tidings from my brother,
That lately travell'd, whom my soul affects.
Here he comes.
Enter Vendice, her brother, disguised.
Ven. Lady, the best of wishes to your sex.
Fair skins and new gowns.
Cas. O, they shall thank you, sir.
Whence this?
Ven. Mighty—O, from a dear and worthy friend;
Cas. From whom?
Ven. The duke's son!
Cas. Receive that.
[A box o' the ear to her brother.
I swore I would put anger in my hand,
And pass the virgin limits of my sex,[34]
To him that next appear'd in that base office,
To be his sin's attorney. Bear to him
That figure of my hate upon thy cheek,
Whilst 'tis yet hot, and I'll reward thee for't;
Tell him my honour shall have a rich name,
When several harlots shall share his with shame.
Farewell; commend me to him in my hate. [Exit.
Ven. It is the sweetest box,
That e'er my nose came nigh;
The finest drawn-work cuff that e'er was worn;
I'll love this blow for ever, and this cheek
Shall still henceforward take the wall of this.
O, I'm above my tongue: most constant sister,
In this thou hast right honourable shown;
Many are call'd their[35] honour, that have none;
Thou art approv'd for ever in my thoughts.
It is not in the power of words to taint thee.
And yet for the salvation of my oath,
As my resolve in that point, I will lay
Hard siege unto my mother, though I know
A syren's tongue could not bewitch her so.
Mass, fitly here she comes! thanks, my disguise—
Madam, good afternoon.
Enter Gratiana.