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My lord, supply your promises with deeds; You know that painted meat no hunger feeds.
Brach. Stay, ungrateful Rome----
Flam. Rome! it deserve to be call'd Barbary, For our villainous usage.
Brach. Soft; the same project which the Duke of Florence, (Whether in love or gallery I know not) Laid down for her escape, will I pursue.
Flam. And no time fitter than this night, my lord.
The Pope being dead, and all the cardinals enter'd The conclave, for th' electing a new Pope; The city in a great confusion; We may attire her in a page's suit, Lay her post-horse, take shipping, and amain For Padua.
Brach. I 'll instantly steal forth the Prince Giovanni, And make for Padua. You two with your old mother, And young Marcello that attends on Florence, If you can work him to it, follow me: I will advance you all; for you, Vittoria, Think of a d.u.c.h.ess' t.i.tle.
Flam. Lo you, sister!
Stay, my lord; I 'll tell you a tale. The crocodile, which lives in the River Nilus, hath a worm breeds i' th' teeth of 't, which puts it to extreme anguish: a little bird, no bigger than a wren, is barber-surgeon to this crocodile; flies into the jaws of 't, picks out the worm, and brings present remedy. The fish, glad of ease, but ungrateful to her that did it, that the bird may not talk largely of her abroad for non-payment, closeth her chaps, intending to swallow her, and so put her to perpetual silence. But nature, loathing such ingrat.i.tude, hath armed this bird with a quill or p.r.i.c.k on the head, top o' th' which wounds the crocodile i' th' mouth, forceth her open her b.l.o.o.d.y prison, and away flies the pretty tooth-picker from her cruel patient.
Brach. Your application is, I have not rewarded The service you have done me.
Flam. No, my lord.
You, sister, are the crocodile: you are blemish'd in your fame, my lord cures it; and though the comparison hold not in every particle, yet observe, remember, what good the bird with the p.r.i.c.k i' th' head hath done you, and scorn ingrat.i.tude.
It may appear to some ridiculous Thus to talk knave and madman, and sometimes Come in with a dried sentence, stuffed with sage: But this allows my varying of shapes; Knaves do grow great by being great men's apes.
SCENE III
Enter Francisco, Lodovico, Gasparo, and six Amba.s.sadors
Fran. So, my lord, I commend your diligence.
Guard well the conclave; and, as the order is, Let none have conference with the cardinals.
Lodo. I shall, my lord. Room for the amba.s.sadors.
Gas. They 're wondrous brave to-day: why do they wear These several habits?
Lodo. Oh, sir, they 're knights Of several orders: That lord i' th' black cloak, with the silver cross, Is Knight of Rhodes; the next, Knight of St. Michael; That, of the Golden Fleece; the Frenchman, there, Knight of the Holy Ghost; my Lord of Savoy, Knight of th' Annunciation; the Englishman Is Knight of th' honour'd Garter, dedicated Unto their saint, St. George. I could describe to you Their several inst.i.tutions, with the laws Annexed to their orders; but that time Permits not such discovery.
Fran. Where 's Count Lodowick?
Lodo. Here, my lord.
Fran. 'Tis o' th' point of dinner time; Marshal the cardinals' service.
Lodo. Sir, I shall. [Enter Servants, with several dishes covered.
Stand, let me search your dish. Who 's this for?
Servant. For my Lord Cardinal Monticelso.
Lodo. Whose this?
Servant. For my Lord Cardinal of Bourbon.
Fr. Amba.s.s. Why doth he search the dishes? to observe What meat is dressed?
Eng. Amba.s.s. No, sir, but to prevent Lest any letters should be convey'd in, To bribe or to solicit the advancement Of any cardinal. When first they enter, 'Tis lawful for the amba.s.sadors of princes To enter with them, and to make their suit For any man their prince affecteth best; But after, till a general election, No man may speak with them.
Lodo. You that attend on the lord cardinals, Open the window, and receive their viands.
Card. [Within.] You must return the service: the lord cardinals Are busied 'bout electing of the Pope; They have given o'er scrutiny, and are fallen To admiration.
Lodo. Away, away.
Fran. I 'll lay a thousand ducats you hear news Of a Pope presently. Hark; sure he 's elected: Behold, my Lord of Arragon appears On the church battlements. [A Cardinal on the terrace.
Arragon. Denuntio vobis gaudium magnum: Reverendissimus Cardinalis Lorenzo de Monticelso electus est in sedem apostolicam, et elegit sibi nomen Paulum Quartum.
Omnes. Vivat Sanctus Pater Paulus Quartus!
Servant. Vittoria, my lord----
Fran. Well, what of her?