The White Devil Part 20

Mont. What, are you turn'd all marble?

Fran. Shall I defy him, and impose a war, Most burthensome on my poor subjects' necks, Which at my will I have not power to end?

You know, for all the murders, rapes, and thefts, Committed in the horrid l.u.s.t of war, He that unjustly caus'd it first proceed, Shall find it in his grave, and in his seed.

Mont. That 's not the course I 'd wish you; pray observe me.

We see that undermining more prevails Than doth the cannon. Bear your wrongs conceal'd, And, patient as the tortoise, let this camel Stalk o'er your back unbruis'd: sleep with the lion, And let this brood of secure foolish mice Play with your nostrils, till the time be ripe For th' b.l.o.o.d.y audit, and the fatal gripe: Aim like a cunning fowler, close one eye, That you the better may your game espy.

Fran. Free me, my innocence, from treacherous acts!

I know there 's thunder yonder; and I 'll stand, Like a safe valley, which low bends the knee To some aspiring mountain: since I know Treason, like spiders weaving nets for flies, By her foul work is found, and in it dies.

To pa.s.s away these thoughts, my honour'd lord, It is reported you possess a book, Wherein you have quoted, by intelligence, The names of all notorious offenders Lurking about the city.

Mont. Sir, I do; And some there are which call it my black-book.

Well may the t.i.tle hold; for though it teach not The art of conjuring, yet in it lurk The names of many devils.

Fran. Pray let 's see it.

Mont. I 'll fetch it to your lordship. [Exit.

Fran. Monticelso, I will not trust thee, but in all my plots I 'll rest as jealous as a town besieg'd.

Thou canst not reach what I intend to act: Your flax soon kindles, soon is out again, But gold slow heats, and long will hot remain.

Enter Monticelso, with the book

Mont. 'Tis here, my lord.

Fran. First, your intelligencers, pray let 's see.

Mont. Their number rises strangely; And some of them You 'd take for honest men.

Next are panders.

These are your pirates; and these following leaves For base rogues, that undo young gentlemen, By taking up commodities; for politic bankrupts; For fellows that are bawds to their own wives, Only to put off horses, and slight jewels, Clocks, defac'd plate, and such commodities, At birth of their first children.

Fran. Are there such?

Mont. These are for impudent bawds, That go in men's apparel; for usurers That share with scriveners for their good reportage: For lawyers that will antedate their writs: And some divines you might find folded there, But that I slip them o'er for conscience' sake.

Here is a general catalogue of knaves: A man might study all the prisons o'er, Yet never attain this knowledge.

Fran. Murderers?

Fold down the leaf, I pray; Good my lord, let me borrow this strange doctrine.

Mont. Pray, use 't, my lord.

Fran. I do a.s.sure your lordship, You are a worthy member of the State, And have done infinite good in your discovery Of these offenders.

Mont. Somewhat, sir.

Fran. O G.o.d!

Better than tribute of wolves paid in England; 'Twill hang their skins o' th' hedge.

Mont. I must make bold To leave your lordship.

Fran. Dearly, sir, I thank you: If any ask for me at court, report You have left me in the company of knaves.

[Exit Monticelso.

I gather now by this, some cunning fellow That 's my lord's officer, and that lately skipp'd From a clerk's desk up to a justice' chair, Hath made this knavish summons, and intends, As th' Irish rebels wont were to sell heads, So to make prize of these. And thus it happens: Your poor rogues pay for 't, which have not the means To present bribe in fist; the rest o' th' band Are razed out of the knaves' record; or else My lord he winks at them with easy will; His man grows rich, the knaves are the knaves still.

But to the use I 'll make of it; it shall serve To point me out a list of murderers, Agents for my villany. Did I want Ten leash of courtesans, it would furnish me; Nay, laundress three armies. That in so little paper Should lie th' undoing of so many men!

'Tis not so big as twenty declarations.

See the corrupted use some make of books: Divinity, wrested by some factious blood, Draws swords, swells battles, and o'erthrows all good.

To fashion my revenge more seriously, Let me remember my dear sister's face: Call for her picture? no, I 'll close mine eyes, And in a melancholic thought I 'll frame [Enter Isabella's Ghost.

Her figure 'fore me. Now I ha' 't--how strong Imagination works! how she can frame Things which are not! methinks she stands afore me, And by the quick idea of my mind, Were my skill pregnant, I could draw her picture.

Thought, as a subtle juggler, makes us deem Things supernatural, which have cause Common as sickness. 'Tis my melancholy.

How cam'st thou by thy death?--how idle am I To question mine own idleness!--did ever Man dream awake till now?--remove this object; Out of my brain with 't: what have I to do With tombs, or death-beds, funerals, or tears, That have to meditate upon revenge? [Exit Ghost.

So, now 'tis ended, like an old wife's story.

Statesmen think often they see stranger sights Than madmen. Come, to this weighty business.

My tragedy must have some idle mirth in 't, Else it will never pa.s.s. I am in love, In love with Corombona; and my suit Thus halts to her in verse.-- [He writes.

I have done it rarely: Oh, the fate of princes!

I am so us'd to frequent flattery, That, being alone, I now flatter myself: But it will serve; 'tis seal'd. [Enter servant.] Bear this To the House of Convert.i.tes, and watch your leisure To give it to the hands of Corombona, Or to the Matron, when some followers Of Brachiano may be by. Away! [Exit Servant.

He that deals all by strength, his wit is shallow; When a man's head goes through, each limb will follow.

The engine for my business, bold Count Lodowick; 'Tis gold must such an instrument procure, With empty fist no man doth falcons lure.

Brachiano, I am now fit for thy encounter: Like the wild Irish, I 'll ne'er think thee dead Till I can play at football with thy head, Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo. [Exit.

SCENE II

Enter the Matron, and Flamineo

Matron. Should it be known the duke hath such recourse To your imprison'd sister, I were like T' incur much damage by it.