porcis hodie comedenda relinques.[9]
To those who report I was a long time in finishing this tragedy, I confess, I do not write with a goose quill winged with two feathers; and if they will needs make it my fault, I must answer them with that of Euripides to Alcestides,[10] a tragic writer. Alcestides objecting that Euripides had only, in three days, composed three verses, whereas himself had written three hundred, "Thou tellest truth," quoth he, "but here's the difference—thine shall only be read for three days, whereas mine shall continue three ages."
Detraction is the sworn friend to ignorance: for mine own part, I have ever truly cherished my good opinion of other men's worthy labours; especially of that full and heightened style of Master Chapman; the laboured and understanding works of Master Jonson; the no less worthy composures of the both worthily excellent Master Beaumont and Master Fletcher; and lastly (without wrong last to be named), the right happy and copious industry of Master Shakespeare, Master Dekker, and Master Heywood; wishing what I write may be read by their light; protesting that, in the strength of mine own judgment, I know them so worthy, that though I rest silent in my own work, yet to most of theirs I dare (without flattery) fix that of Martial,
Non norunt hæc monumenta mori.[11]
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
Monticelso, a Cardinal, afterwards Pope.
Francisco de Medicis, Duke of Florence.
Brachiano, otherwise Paulo Giordano Ursini, Duke of Brachiano, Husband of Isabella.
Giovanni, his Son.
Count Lodovico.
Camillo, Husband of Vittoria.
Flamineo, Brother of Vittoria, Secretary to Brachiano.
Marcello, Brother of Vittoria, Attendant on Francisco de Medicis.
Hortensio.
Antonelli.
Gasparo.
Farnese.
Carlo.
Pedro.
Doctor.
Conjurer.
Lawyer.
Jaques.
Julio.
Christophero.
Ambassadors, Physicians, Officers, Attendants, &c.
Isabella, Sister of Francisco de Medicis, Wife of Brachiano.
Vittoria Corombona, married first to Camillo, afterwards to Brachiano.
Cornelia, Mother of Vittoria.
Zanche, a Moor, Waiting-woman to Vittoria.
Matron of the House of Convertites.
SCENE—Rome and Padua.
THE WHITE DEVIL; OR, VITTORIA COROMBONA.
ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE I.—A Street in Rome.
Enter Count Lodovico, Antonelli, and Gasparo.
Lod. Banished! Ant. It grieved me much to hear the sentence. Lod. Ha, ha! O Democritus, thy gods That govern the whole world! courtly reward And punishment. Fortune's a right whore: If she give aught, she deals it in small parcels, That she may take away all at one swoop. This 'tis to have great enemies:—God quit[12] them! Your wolf no longer seems to be a wolf Than when she's hungry. Gasp. You term those enemies Are men of princely rank. Lod. O, I pray for them: The violent thunder is adored by those Are pashed[13] in pieces by it. Ant. Come, my lord, You are justly doomed: look but a little back Into your former life; you have in three years Ruined the noblest earldom. Gasp. Your followers Have swallowed you like mummia[14] and, being sick With such unnatural and horrid physic, Vomit you up i' the kennel. Ant. All the damnable degrees Of drinkings have you staggered through: one citizen Is lord of two fair manors called you master Only for caviare. Gasp. Those noblemen Which were invited to your prodigal feasts (Wherein the phœnix scarce could scape your throats) Laugh at your misery; as fore-deeming you An idle meteor, which, drawn forth the earth, Would be soon lost i' the air. Ant. Jest upon you, And say you were begotten in an earthquake, You have ruined such fair lordships. Lod. Very good. This well goes with two buckets: I must tend The pouring out of either. Gasp. Worse than these; You have acted certain murders here in Rome, Bloody and full of horror. Lod. 'Las, they were flea-bitings. Why took they not my head, then?
Gasp. O, my lord, The law doth sometimes mediate, thinks it good Not ever to steep violent sins in blood: This gentle penance may both end your crimes, And in the example better these bad times. Lod. So; but I wonder, then, some great men scape This banishment: there's Paulo Giordano Ursini, The Duke of Brachiano, now lives in Rome, And by close panderism seeks to prostitute The honour of Vittoria Corombona; Vittoria, she that might have got my pardon For one kiss to the duke. Ant. Have a full man within you. We see that trees bear no such pleasant fruit There where they grew first as where they are new set: Perfumes, the more they are chafed, the more they render Their pleasing scents; and so affliction Expresseth virtue fully, whether true Or else adulterate. Lod. Leave your painted comforts: I'll make Italian cut-works[15] in their guts, If ever I return. Gasp. O, sir! Lod. I am patient. I have seen some ready to be executed Give pleasant looks and money, and grown familiar With the knave hangman: so do I: I thank them, And would account them nobly merciful, Would they despatch me quickly. Ant. Fare you well: We shall find time, I doubt not, to repeal Your banishment. Lod. I am ever bound to you: This is the world's alms; pray, make use of it. Great men sell sheep thus to be cut in pieces, When first they have shorn them bare and sold their fleeces. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.—An Apartment in Camillo's House.
Sennet.[16] Enter Brachiano, Camillo, Flamineo, Vittoria Corombona, and Attendants.
Brach. Your best of rest! Vit. Cor. Unto my lord, the duke, The best of welcome!—More lights! attend the duke. [Exeunt Camillo and Vittoria Corombona. Brach. Flamineo— Flam. My lord? Brach. Quite lost, Flamineo. Flam. Pursue your noble wishes, I am prompt. As lightning to your service. O, my lord, The fair Vittoria, my happy sister, [Whispers. Shall give you present audience.—Gentlemen, Let the caroche[17] go on; and 'tis his pleasure You put out all
