Mon. I'll tell thee;

I'll find in thee an apothecary's shop.

To sample them all.

Fr. Emb. She hath lived ill.

En. Emb. True, but the cardinal 's too bitter.

Mon. You know what whore is.
Enters the devil murder.

Fra. Your unhappy husband
Is dead.

Vit. O, he's a happy husband,
Now he owes nature nothing.
Fra. And by a vaulting engine.
Mon. An active plot :

He jump'd into his grave.
Fra. What a prodigy was 't,

Next the devil adultery,

That from some two yards high, a slender man
Should break his neck?

Mon. I' the rushes!

Fra. And what's more,

Upon the instant lose all use of speech,
All vital motion, like a man had lain

Wound up three days. Now mark each circumstance. Mon. And look upon this creature was his wife.

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 called impudence?
Let me appeal then from this Christian court
To the uncivil Tartar.

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 withal,
So entangled in a cursed accusation,
That my defence, of force, like Perseus,

Must personate masculine virtue. To the point.

Find me but guilty, sever head from body,
We'll part good friends: I scorn to hold
At yours, or any man's entreaty, sir.
En. Emb. She hath a brave spirit.
Mon. Well, well, such counterfeit jewels
Make true ones oft suspected.

Vit. You are deceived;

my

life

For know, that all your strict combined heads,
Which strike against this mine of diamonds,
Shall prove but glassen hammers, they shall break.
These are but feigned shadows of my evils.
Terrify babes, my lord, with painted devils;
I am past such needless palsy. For your names
Of whore and murderess, they proceed from you,
As if a man should spit against the wind;
The filth returns in 's face.

Mon. Pray you, mistress, satisfy me one question:
Who lodged beneath your roof that fatal night
Your husband brake his neck?

Bra. That question

Enforceth me break silence;

Mon. Your business?

Bra. Why, I came to comfort her.

I was there.

And take some course for settling her estate,
Because I heard her husband was in debt

To you, my
lord.

Mon. He was.

Bra. And 'twas strangely fear'd

That you would cozen her.

Mon. Who made you overseer ?

Bra. Why, my charity, my charity, which should flow From every generous and noble spirit,

To orphans and to widows.

Mon. 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.

Mon. Ha!

Bra. Your mercenary post-boys.

Your letters carry truth, but 'tis your guise
To fill your mouths with gross and impudent lies.
Servant. My lord, your gown.

Bra. Thou liest, 'twas my stool.

Bestow 't upon thy master, that will challenge
The rest o' the household stuff, for Brachiano
Was ne'er so beggarly to take a stool

Out of another's lodging: let him make
Valance for his bed on 't, or demy foot-cloth
For his most reverend moile.
impune lacessit.

Mon. Your champion 's gone.

Vit. The wolf may prey the better.

Monticelso, nemo me

[Exit BRACHIANO.

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 husbandmen plant vines,
And with warm blood manure them, even so
One summer she will bear unsavoury fruit,
And ere next spring wither both branch and root.
The act of blood let pass, only descend

To matter of incontinence.

Vit. I discern poison

Under your gilded pills.

Mon. Now the duke's gone I will produce a letter,
Wherein 'twas plotted, he and you shall meet,
At an apothecary's summer-house,

Down by the river Tiber. View 't, my lords:
Where after wanton bathing and the heat
Of a lascivious banquet-I pray read it.-
I shame to speak the rest.

Vit. Grant I was tempted;

Temptation 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' the dog-days! strange!

Vit. Condemn you me for that the duke did love me?
So may you blame some fair and crystal 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.

[me first,

Vit. But take you your course; it seems you've begg'd
And now would fain undo me. I have houses,

Jewels, and a poor remnant of crusadoes;
Would these would make you charitable!
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 choke-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

Twelve thousand ducats, and (to my knowledge)

1 ́Her husband Camillo, who was cousin to Monticelso.

Received in dowry with you not one julio.

'Twas a hard pennyworth, the ware being so light.
I yet but draw the curtain, now to your picture:
You came from thence a most notorious strumpet,
And so you
have continued.

Vit. My lord!

Mon. Nay, hear me,

You shall have time to prate. My lord Brachiano-
Alas! I make but repetition,

Of what is ordinary and Rialto talk,

And ballated, and would be play'd o' the stage
But that vice many times finds such loud friends,
That preachers are charm'd silent.

Your public fault,

Join'd to the condition of the present time,

Takes from you all the fruits of noble pity,
Such a corrupted trial have you made

Both of your life and beauty, and been styled
No less an ominous fate, than blazing stars

To princes. Hear your sentence; you are confined
Unto a house of converts.

Vit. A house of converts! what's that?

Mon. A house of penitent whores.

Vit. Do the noblemen in Rome

Erect it for their wives, that I am sent
To lodge there?

Fra. You must have patience.

Vit. I must first have vengeance.

I fain would know if you have your
By patent, that you proceed thus.

Mon. Away with her,

Take her hence.

Vit. A rape! a rape!

Mon. How?

Vit. Yes, you have ravish'd justice;

Forced her to do your pleasure.

Mon. Fie, she's mad!

salvation

Vit. Die with those pills in your most cursed maw,
Should bring you health! or while you sit o' the bench,
Let your own spittle choke you!

Mon. She's turn'd fury.

Vit. That the last day of judgment may so find you,

And leave you the same devil

you were before!