The White Devil | Page 2

to be a wolf Than when she 's hungry.
Gas. You term those enemies, Are men of princely rank.
Lodo. Oh, I pray for them: The violent thunder is adored by those Are
pasht in pieces by it.
Ant. Come, my lord, You are justly doom'd; look but a little back Into
your former life: you have in three years Ruin'd the noblest earldom.
Gas. Your followers Have swallowed you, like mummia, and being
sick With such unnatural and horrid physic, Vomit you up i' th' kennel.
Ant. All the damnable degrees Of drinking have you stagger'd through.
One citizen, Is lord of two fair manors, call'd you master, Only for
caviare.
Gas. Those noblemen Which were invited to your prodigal feasts,
(Wherein the phœnix scarce could 'scape your throats) Laugh at your
misery, as fore-deeming you An idle meteor, which drawn forth, the
earth Would be soon lost i' the air.
Ant. Jest upon you, And say you were begotten in an earthquake, You
have ruin'd such fair lordships.
Lodo. Very good. This well goes with two buckets: I must tend The
pouring out of either.

Gas. Worse than these. You have acted certain murders here in Rome,
Bloody and full of horror.
Lodo. 'Las, they were flea-bitings: Why took they not my head then?
Gas. O, my lord! The law doth sometimes mediate, thinks it good Not
ever to steep violent sins in blood: This gentle penance may both end
your crimes, And in the example better these bad times.
Lodo. So; but I wonder then some great men 'scape This banishment:
there 's Paulo Giordano Ursini, The Duke of Brachiano, now lives in
Rome, And by close panderism seeks to prostitute The honour of
Vittoria Corombona: Vittoria, she that might have got my pardon For
one kiss to the duke.
Ant. Have a full man within you: We see that trees bear no such
pleasant fruit There where they grew first, as where they are new set.
Perfumes, the more they are chaf'd, the more they render Their pleasing
scents, and so affliction Expresseth virtue fully, whether true, Or else
adulterate.
Lodo. Leave your painted comforts; I 'll make Italian cut-works in their
guts If ever I return.
Gas. Oh, sir.
Lodo. I am patient. I have seen some ready to be executed, Give
pleasant looks, and money, and grown familiar With the knave
hangman; so do I; I thank them, And would account them nobly
merciful, Would they dispatch me quickly.
Ant. Fare you well; We shall find time, I doubt not, to repeal Your
banishment.
Lodo. I am ever bound to you. This is the world's alms; pray make use
of it. Great men sell sheep, thus to be cut in pieces, When first they
have shorn them bare, and sold their fleeces. [Exeunt

SCENE II
Enter Brachiano, Camillo, Flamineo, Vittoria
Brach. Your best of rest.
Vit. Unto my lord the duke, The best of welcome. More lights: attend
the duke. [Exeunt Camillo and Vittoria.
Brach. Flamineo.
Flam. My lord.
Brach. Quite lost, Flamineo.
Flam. Pursue your noble wishes, I am prompt As lightning to your
service. O my lord! The fair Vittoria, my happy sister, Shall give you
present audience--Gentlemen, [Whisper. Let the caroch go on--and 'tis
his pleasure You put out all your torches and depart.
Brach. Are we so happy?
Flam. Can it be otherwise? Observ'd you not to-night, my honour'd lord,
Which way soe'er you went, she threw her eyes? I have dealt already
with her chambermaid, Zanche the Moor, and she is wondrous proud
To be the agent for so high a spirit.
Brach. We are happy above thought, because 'bove merit.
Flam. 'Bove merit! we may now talk freely: 'bove merit! what is 't you
doubt? her coyness! that 's but the superficies of lust most women have;
yet why should ladies blush to hear that named, which they do not fear
to handle? Oh, they are politic; they know our desire is increased by the
difficulty of enjoying; whereas satiety is a blunt, weary, and drowsy
passion. If the buttery-hatch at court stood continually open, there
would be nothing so passionate crowding, nor hot suit after the
beverage.
Brach. Oh, but her jealous husband----

Flam. Hang him; a gilder that hath his brains perished with quicksilver
is not more cold in the liver. The great barriers moulted not more
feathers, than he hath shed hairs, by the confession of his doctor. An
Irish gamester that will play himself naked, and then wage all
downward, at hazard, is not more venturous. So unable to please a
woman, that, like a Dutch doublet, all his back is shrunk into his
breaches. Shroud you within this closet, good my lord; Some trick now
must be thought on to divide My brother-in-law from his fair