THE WHITE DEVIL: OR, VITTORIA COROMBONA, A LADY OF VENICE. A TRAGEDY. BY JOHN WEBSTER.69 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 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: This business, by his holiness, is left To our examination. Bra. May it thrive with you. (Lays a rich gown under him.) Bra. 69 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 forbear 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 enquire for good Bra. Forbear your kindness; an unbidden guest Mon. At your pleasure, Sir. Stand to the table, gentlewoman.-Now, Signior, Lawyer. Domine judex converte oculos in hanc pestem mulierum corruptissimam. Vit. What's he? Fra. A lawyer, that pleads against you. books, but new books) I present it to the general view with this confidence, Nec rhoncos 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, inrich 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 wing'd 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 tell'st 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 cherish'd my good opinion of other men's worthy labours, especially of that full and heighten'd stile of Master Chapman, the labor'd 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 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 tho' I rest silent in my own work, yet to most of theirs I dare (without Battery) fix that of Martial: non norunt hæc monumenta mori. 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 May be ignorant in't. Mon. Go on, Sir. Vit. By your favor, I will not have my accusation clouded In a strange tongue: all this assembly Fra. Signior, You need not stand on't much; pray, change your lan guage. Mon. Oh, 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 So to connive your judgments to the view Of this debauch'd and diversivolent woman; Who such a concatenation Of mischief hath effected, that to extirp The memory of it, must be the consummation Vit. What's all this? Law. Hold your peace! Exorbitant sins must have exulceration. Vit. Surely, my Lords, this lawyer hath swallowed Some apothecaries bills, or proclamations; And now the hard and undigestible words Come up like stones we use give hawks for physic. Law. My Lords, the woman In the academick derivation Of grammatical elocution. Fra. Sir, your pains Shall 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 My notion of your learn'd verbosity. Law. I most graduatically thank your lordship; I shall have use for them elsewhere. Mon. [to Vittoria.] I shall be plainer with you, and paint out Your follies in more natural red and white, Than that upon your Vit. O you mistake, cheek. 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. Observe this creature here, my honor'd Lords, A woman of a most prodigious spirit. Vit. My honorable Lord, It doth not suit a reverend Cardinal To play the Lawyer thus. Mon. Oh your trade instructs your language. You see, my Lords, what goodly fruit she seems, Yet like those apples travellers report To grow where Sodom and Gomorrah stood, I will but touch her, and you straight shall see Vit. Your invenom'd apothecary should do❜t. Were there a second paradise to lose, This devil would betray it. Vit. O poor charity, Thou art seldom found in scarlet. Mon. Who knows not how, when several night by night Her gates were choakt with coaches, and her rooms Outbrav'd the stars with several kinds of lights; When When she did counterfeit a Prince's court In musick, banquets, and most riotous surfeits; Vit. Ha! whore? what's that? Mon. Shall I expound whore to you? sure I shall. Worse than those tributes i'th' low countries paid, Which forfeit all a wretched man's estate For leaving out one syllable. What are whores? They are those flattering bells have all one tune, Are only treasuries by extortion fill'd, And empty'd by curs'd riot. They are worse, Worse than dead bodies, which are begg'd at th' gallows, And wrought upon by surgeons, to teach man Wherein he is imperfect. What's a whore? She's like the guilt counterfeited coin, Which, whosoe'er first stamps it, brings in trouble Vit. This character 'scapes me. Mon. You, gentlewoman? Take from all beasts and from all minerals Their deadly poison Vit. Well, what then? 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. Next the devil adul'try, Enters the devil murder. Fra. |