To leave a living name behind,

And weave but nets to catch the wind.

APPIUS AND VIRGINIA: A TRAGEDY. BY JOHN WEBSTER.

Appius, the Roman Decemvir, not being able to corrupt the Innocence of Virginia, Daughter to Virginius the Roman General, and newly married to Icilius, a young and noble Gentleman; to get possession of her person, suborns one Clodius to claim her as the Daughter of a deceased bondwoman of his, on the testimony of certain forged writings, pretended to be the Deposition of that Woman, on her deathbed, confessing that the Child had been spuriously passed upon Virginius for his own the Cause is tried at Rome before Appius.

APPIUS. VIRGINIA. VIRGINIUS, her Father.

ICILIUS, her Husband. Senators of Rome. Nurse and other Witnesses.

Virginius. My Lords, believe not this spruce orator.* Had I but fee'd him first, he would have told

As smooth a tale on our side.

Appius. Give us leave.

Virginius. He deals in formal glosses, cunning shows, And cares not greatly which way the case goes. Examine I beseech you this old woman,

Who is the truest witness of her birth.

Appius. Soft you, is she your only witness?

Virginius. She is, my Lord.

Appius. Why, is it possible,

Such a great Lady in her time of child birth

Should have no other witness but a nurse?

Virginius. For aught I know, the rest are dead, my Lord. Appius. Dead? no, my Lord, belike they were of counsel With your deceased Lady, and so shamed

Twice to give color to so vile an act.

Thou nurse, observe me, thy offence already
Doth merit punishment above our censure;
Pull not more whips upon thee.

* Counsel for Clodius.

Nurse. I defy your whips, my Lord.
Appius. Command her silence, Lictors.

Virginius. O injustice! you frown away my witness. Is this law, is this uprightness?

Appius. Have you view'd the writings?

This is a trick to make our slaves our heirs

Beyond prevention.

Virginius. Appius, wilt thou hear me?

You have slander'd a sweet Lady that now sleeps
In a most noble monument. Observe me;

I would have tane her simple word to gage
Before his soul or thine.

Appius. That makes thee wretched.
man, I am sorry

Old

for thee; that thy love
By custom is grown natural, which by nature
Should be an absolute lothing. Note the sparrow;
That having hatch'd a cuckow, when it sees
Her brood a monster to her proper kind,
Forsakes it, and with more fear shuns the nest
Than she had care i' the spring to have it drest.
Here's witness, most sufficient witness.
Think you, my Lord, our laws are writ in snow,
And that your breath can melt them?

Virginius. No, my Lord,

We have not such hot livers: mark you that?
Virginia. Remember yet the gods, O Appius;
Who have no part in this. Thy violent lust
Shall like the biting of th' invenom'd aspick,
Steal thee to hell. So subtle are thy evils;
In life they'll seem good angels, in death devils.
Appius. Observe you not this scandal ?
Icilius. Sir, 'tis none.

I'll show thy letters full of violent lust
Sent to this Lady.

Appius. My Lords, these are but dilatory shifts.

Sirrah, I know you to the very heart,

And I'll observe you.

Icilius. Do, but do it with justice.

Clear thyself first, O Appius, ere thou judge
Our imperfections rashly, for we wot
The office of a justice is perverted quite
When one thief hangs another.

1. Senator. You are too bold.

Appius. Lictor, take charge of him.
Icilius. 'Tis very good.

Will no man view these papers,* what not one?
Jove, thou hast found a rival upon earth,
His nod strikes all men dumb.

My duty to you.

The ass that carried Isis on his back,

Thought that the superstitious people kneel'd
To give his dulness humble reverence

If thou thinkst so, proud judge, I let thee see
I bend low to thy gown but not to thee.

Virginius. There's one in hold already. Noble youth;
Fetters grace one, being worn for speaking truth.

I'll lie with thee, I swear, though in a dungeon.
The injuries you do us we shall pardon:

But it is just, the wrongs which we forgive

The gods are charg'd therewith to see revenged.

Appius. Your madness wrongs you: by my soul, I love you. Virginius. Thy soul!

O thy opinion, old Pythagoras:

Whither, O whither should thy black soul fly,

Into what ravenous bird, or beast most vile?
Only into a weeping crocodile.

Love me!

Thou lov'st me, Appius, as the earth loves rain,
Only to swallow it.

Appius. Know you the place you stand in?

Virginius. I'll speak freely.

Good men, too much trusting their innocence,

Do not betake them to that just defence

Which gods and nature gave them; but even wink

In the black tempest, and so fondly sink.

*The Forgery.

Appius. Let us proceed to sentence.

Virginius. Ere you speak,

One parting farewell let me borrow of you

To take of my Virginia.

Appius. Pray, take your course.

Virginius. Farewell, my sweet Virginia: never, never
Shall I taste fruit of the most blessed hope
I had in thee. Let me forget the thought
Of thy most pretty infancy: when first,
Returning from the wars, I took delight
To rock thee in my target; when my girl
Would kiss her father in his burganet

Of glittering steel hung 'bout his armed neck,
And, viewing the bright metal, smile to see
Another fair Virginia smile on thee;
When I first taught thee how to go, to speak;
And, when my wounds have smarted) I have sung,
With an unskilful yet a willing voice,

To bring my girl asleep. O my Virginia ;
When we begun to be, begun our woes;

Increasing still, as dying life still grows.
Thus I surrender her into the court

Of all the gods.

And see, proud Appius, see;
Although not justly, I have made her free.
And if thy lust with this act be not fed,
Bury her in thy bowels now she's dead.

[Kills her.

THE TRAGEDY OF THE DUCHESS OF MALFY. BY JOHN WEBSTER.

The Duchess of Malfy marries Antonio, her Steward.

DUCHESS. CARIOLA, her Maid.

Duchess. Is Antonio come?

Cariola. He attends you.

Duch, Good dear soul,

Leave me but place thyself behind the arras,
Where thou mayst overhear us: wish me good speed,
For I am going into a wilderness,

Where I shall find nor path nor friendly clue

To be my guide.

Antonio enters.

[Cariola withdraws.

I sent for you, sit down.

Take pen and ink and write. Are you ready?

Ant. Yes.

Duch. What did I say ?

Ant. That I should write somewhat.

Duch. Oh, I remember.

After these triumphs and this large expense
It's fit, like thrifty husbands, we inquire
What's laid up for to-morrow.

Ant. So please your beauteous excellence.

Duch. Beauteous indeed! I thank you; I look young

For your sake. You have tane my cares upon you.

Ant. I'll fetch your grace the particulars of your revenue and

expense.

Duch. Oh, you're an upright treasurer: but you mistook,

For when I said I meant to make inquiry

What's laid up for to-morrow, I did mean

What's laid up yonder for me.

Ant. Where?

Duch. In heaven.

I'm making my will (as 'tis fit princes should)
In perfect memory; and I pray, sir, tell me,
Were not one better make it smiling, thus,
Than in deep groans and terrible ghastly looks,
As if the gifts we parted with procur'd

That violent distraction?

Ant. Oh, much better.

Duch. If I had a husband now, this care were quit.

But I intend to make you overseer;

What good deed shall we first remember, say?

Ant. Begin with that first good deed, began in the world