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. Fra. Your unhappy husband Vit. O, he's a happy husband, He jump'd into his grave. Next the devil adultery, That from some two yards high, a slender man Mon. I' the rushes! Fra. And what's more, Upon the instant lose all use of speech, 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, Mon. O, you are cunning. Vit. You shame your wit and judgement, To call it so; what, is my just defence Mon. See, my lords, She scandals our proceedings. Vit. Humbly thus, Thus low, to the most worthy and respected And womanhood I tender; but withal, Must personate masculine virtue. To the point. Find me but guilty, sever head from body, Vit. You are deceived; my life For know, that all your strict combined heads, Mon. Pray you, mistress, satisfy me one question: 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, To you, my 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 Mon. Ha! Bra. Your mercenary post-boys. Your letters carry truth, but 'tis your guise Bra. Thou liest, 'twas my stool. Bestow 't upon thy master, that will challenge Out of another's lodging: let him make 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, For my part, To act a deed so bloody: if she have, As in cold countries husbandmen plant vines, To matter of incontinence. Vit. I discern poison Under your gilded pills. Mon. Now the duke's gone I will produce a letter, Down by the river Tiber. View 't, my lords: 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? For that some melancholic distracted man Mon. Truly drown'd, indeed. Vit. Sum up my faults, I pray, and you shall find, All the poor crimes that you can charge me with. Mon. Very good. [me first, Vit. But take you your course; it seems you've begg'd Jewels, and a poor remnant of crusadoes; 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, 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, Were your intelligencing ears as loving, After your goodly and vain-glorious banquet, Vit. Of your own grafting? Mon. You were born in Venice, honourably descended Ill may I name the hour, to marry you; 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. Vit. My lord! Mon. Nay, hear me, You shall have time to prate. My lord Brachiano- Of what is ordinary and Rialto talk, And ballated, and would be play'd o' the stage Your public fault, Join'd to the condition of the present time, Takes from you all the fruits of noble pity, Both of your life and beauty, and been styled To princes. Hear your sentence; you are confined 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 Fra. You must have patience. Vit. I must first have vengeance. I fain would know if you have your 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, 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! |