FERDINAND enters. Ferd. Is she dead? Bos. She is what you would have her. Ferd. Constantly. Bos. Do you not weep? Other sins only speak; murder shrieks out. The element of water moistens the earth, But blood flies upwards and bedews the heavens. Ferd. Cover her face: mine eyes dazzle: she died young. Bos. I think not so: her infelicity Seem'd to have years too many. Ferd. She and I were twins: And should I die. this instant, I had lived * * * * Single Life. * O fie upon this single life! forego it. We read how Daphne, for her peevish flight, Was frozen into marble: whereas those Which married, or proved kind unto their friends, Into the olive, pomegranate, mulberry ; Became flowers, precious stones, or eminent stars. 1 All the several parts of the dreadful apparatus with which the Duchess's death is ushered in, are not more remote from the conceptions of-ordinary vengeance, than the strange character of suffering which they seem to bring upon their victims is beyond the imagination of ordinary poets. As they are not like inflictions of this life, so her language seems not of this world. She has lived among horrors till she is become "native and endowed unto that element." She speaks the dialect of despair, her tongue has a snatch of Tartarus and the souls in bale.-What are "Luke's iron crown," the brazen bull of Perillus, Procrustes' bed, to the waxen images which counterfeit death, to the wild masque of madmen, the tomb-maker, the bellman, the living person's dirge, the mortification by degrees! To move a horror skilfully, to touch a soul to the quick, to lay upon fear as much as it can bear, to wean and weary a life till it is ready to drop, and then step in with mortal instruments to take its last forfeit this only a Webster can do. Writers of an inferior genius may "upon horror's head horrors accumulate," but they cannot do this. They mistake quantity for quality, they "terrify babes with painted devils," but they know not how a soul is capable of being moved; their terrors want dignity, their affrightments are without decorum. Fable. Upon a time, Reputation, Love, and Death, Would travel o'er the world: and 'twas concluded By their dead parents: Stay, quoth Reputation; If once I part from I Another. A Salmon, as she swam unto the sea, Met with a Dog-fish; who encounters her year That for the calmest and fresh time of the THE WHITE DEVIL: OR, VITTORIA COROMBONA, A LADY OF VENICE: A TRAGEDY, BY JOHN WEBSTER'. The arraignment of VITTORIA.-PAULO GIORDANO URSINI, Duke of Brachiano, for the love of VITTORIA COROMBONA, a Venetian lady, and at her suggestion, causes her husband CAMILLO to be murdered. Suspicion falls upon VITTORIA, who is tried at Rome, on a double 1 The author's Dedication to this Play is so modest, yet so conscious of self-merit withal, he speaks so frankly of the deservings of others, and by implication insinuates his own deserts so ingenuously, that I cannot for charge of murder and incontinence, in the presence of CARDINAL MONTICELSO, cousin to the deceased CAMILLO; FRANCISCO DE MEDICIS, brother-in-law to BRACHIANO; the Ambassadors of France, Spain, England, &c. As the arraignment is beginning, the Duke confidently enters the court. Mon. Forbear, my lord, here is no place assign'd you: To our examination. bear inserting it, as a specimen how a man may praise himself gracefully and commend others without suspicion of envy. "To the Reader. "In publishing this Tragedy, I do but challenge to myself that liberty which other men have taken before me; not that I affect praise by it, for nos hæc novimus esse nihil; only since it was acted in so open and black a theatre, that it wanted (that which is the only grace and setting-out of a tragedy) a full and understanding auditory; and that, since that time, I have noted, most of the people that come to that play-house resemble those ignorant asses (who visiting stationers' shops, their use is not to inquire for good books, but new books), I present it to the general view with this confidence, Nec rhonchos metues malignorum Nec scombris tunicas dabis molestas. If it be objected this is no true dramatic poem, I shall easily confess it, non potes in nugas dicere plura meas, ipse ego quam dixi; willingly, and not ignorantly, have I faulted. For should a man present, to such an auditory, the most sententious tragedy that ever was written, observing all the critical laws, as height of style, and gravity of person, enrich it with the sententious chorus, and, as it were, enliven death, in the passionate and weighty Nuntius; yet after all this divine rapture, O dura messorum ilia! the breath that comes from the uncapable multitude is able to poison it; and ere it be acted, let the author resolve to fix to every scene this of Horace: Hæc hodie porcis comedenda relinques. "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, 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 Shakspeare, Master Decker, and Master Bra. May it thrive with you! Fra. A chair there for his lordship. [Lays a rich gown under him. Bra. Forbear your kindness; an unbidden guest Bear their stool with them. Mon. At your pleasure, sir. Stand to the table, gentlewoman.-Now, Signior, Lawyer. Domine judex, converte oculos in hanc pestem mulicrum corruptissimam. Vit. What's he? Fra. A lawyer, that pleads against you. Vit. Pray, my lord, let him speak his usual tongue; I'll make no answer else. Fra. Why, you understand Latin. Vit. I do, sir, but amongst this auditory Which come to hear my cause, the half or more Mon. Go on, sir. Vit. By your favour, I will not have my accusation clouded Fra. Signior, [guage. You need not stand on 't much; pray, change your lanMon. O, for God's sake! gentlewoman, your credit Shall be more famous by it. Law. Well then, have at you. Vit. I am the mark, sir, I'll give aim to you, And tell you how near you shoot. Law. Most literated judges, please your lordships Of mischief hath effected, that to extirp Heywood, wishing what I write may be read by their light; protesting that, in the strength of mine own judgement, 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." Vit. What's all this? Law. Hold your peace! Exorbitant sins must have exulceration. Law. My lords, the woman Knows not her tropes, nor is perfect In the academic derivation Of grammatical elocution. Fra. Sir, your pains Shall be well spared, and your deep eloquence Law. My good lord. Fra. Sir, Put up your papers in your fustian bag; [FRANCISCO speaks this as in scorn. Cry mercy, sir, 'tis buckram, and accept Law. I most graduatically thank your lordship; I shall have use for them elsewhere. [out Mon. (to VITTORIA.) I shall be plainer with you, and paint Your follies in more natural red and white, Than that upon your cheek. Vit. O, you mistake, You raise a blood as noble in this cheek As ever was your mother's. Mon. I must spare you, till proof cry whore to that. Vit. My honourable lord, It doth not suit a reverend cardinal Mon. O, your trade instructs your language. You see, my lords, what goodly fruit she seems, To grow where Sodom and Gomorrah stood, |