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A thing we all pursue; I know besides
It is but giving over of a game

That must be lost.

Phi. But there are pains, false boy,

For perjur'd souls: think but on these, and then

Thy heart will melt, and thou wilt utter all.

Bellario, discovered to be a Woman, confesses the motive for her disguise to have been Love for Prince Philaster.

Bell. May they fall all upon me whilst I My father would oft speak

live,

If I be perjured, or have ever thought

Of that you charge me with: if I be false,
Send me to suffer in those punishments
You speak of; kill me.

Phi. O, what should I do?

Your worth and virtue, and as I did grow
More and more apprehensive, I did thirst
To see the man so prais'd, but yet all this
Was but a maiden longing, to be lost

As soon as found, till sitting in my window,
Printing my thoughts in lawn, I saw a god

Why, who can but believe him? He does swear I thought (but it was you) enter our gates;

So earnestly, that if it were not true,
The gods would not endure him. Rise, Bellario,
Thy protestations are so deep, and thou

Dost look so truly when thou utter'st them,

My blood flew out, and back again as fast
As I had puft it forth, and suck'd it in
Like breath; then was I call'd away in haste
To entertain you. Never was a man

That though I know them false, as were my Heav'd from a sheep-cot to a sceptre, rais'd

hopes,

I cannot urge thee further; but thou wert
To blame to injure me, for I must love
Thy honest looks, and take no revenge upon
Thy tender youth: a love from me to thee
Is firm whate'er thou dost: it troubles me
That I have call'd the blood out of thy cheeks,
That did so well become thee: but, good boy,
Let me not see thee more; something is done
That will distract me, that will make me mad,
If I behold thee; if thou tender'st me,
Let me not see thee.

Bell. I will fly as far

As there is morning, ere I give distaste

So high in thoughts as I; you left a kiss
Upon these lips then, which I mean to keep
From you for ever; I did hear you talk
Far above singing; after you were gone
I grew acquainted with my heart, and search'd
What stirr'd it so. Alas! I found it love,
Yet far from lust, for could I have but liv'd
In presence of you, I had had my end.
For this I did delude my noble father
With a feign'd pilgrimage, and drest myself
In habit of a boy, and, for I knew
My birth no match for you, I was past hope
Of having you. And understanding well,
That when I made discovery of my sex,

To that most honour'd mind. But through these I could not stay with you, I made a vow

tears,
Shed at my hopeless parting, I can see
A world of treason practis'd upon you,
And her, and me. Farewell for ever more;
If you shall hear that sorrow struck me dead,
And after find me loval, let there be
A tear shed from you in my memory,
And I shall rest at peace.

By all the most religious things a maid
Could call together, never to be known,
Whilst there was hope to hide me from men's

eyes,

For other than I seem'd; that I might ever
Abide with you: then sate I by the fount
Where first you took me up.

George Chapman.

Dieser Dichter ward 1557 geboren, studirte auf einer englischen Universität und wandte sich dann nach London wo er 1634 starb. Er war ein Freund Spensers und Shakspeare's, zeichnete sich vorzüglich als Uebersetzer des Homer, Musaeus und Hesiod aus und schrieb ausserdem sechzehn Bühnenstücke in welchen sich manches sehr Gelungene findet; besonders athmet sein Trauerspiel Bussy d'Ambois, aus dem wir hier eine Scene mittheilen, einen wahrhaft ritterlichen Geist,

Scene from

Offer'd remission and contrition too:

Bussy d'Ambois, a Tragedy: By George Or else that he and D'Ambois might conclude The others' dangers. D'Ambois lik'd the last: But Barrisor's friends, (being equally engag'd

Chapman.

A Nuntius (or Messenger) in the presence of King In the main quarrel) never would expose
Henry the Third of France and his court tells the His life alone to that they all deserv'd.
manner of a combat, to which he was witness, of
three to 'three; in which D'Ambois remained sole And (for the other offer of remission)
survivor: begun upon an affront passed upon D'Ambois (that like a laurel put in fire

D'Ambois by some courtiers.

Henry, Guise, Beaupre, Nuntius etc. Nuntius. I saw fierce D'Ambois and his two brave friends Enter the field, and at their heels their foes, Which were the famous soldiers, Barrisor, L'Anou, and Pyrrhot, great in deeds of arms: All which arriv'd at the evenest piece of earth The field afforded, the three shallengers

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Turn'd head, drew all their rapiers, and stood That the ne'er-shutting wounds, they needs must

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When face to face the three defendants met them, Might as they open'd shut, and never kill.
Alike prepar'd and resolute alike.

Like bonfires of contributory wood

But D'Ambois' sword (that lightned as it flew)

Shot like a pointed comet at the face

Thrice pluck'd he at it, and thrice drew on thrusts

Every man's look shew'd, fed with other's Of manly Barrisor; and there it stuck:

spirit;

As one had been a mirror to another,

Like forms of life and death each took from From him, that of himself was free as fire;

other:

And so were life and death mix'd at their heights,
That you could see no fear of death (for life)
Nor love of life (for death): but in their brows
Pyrrho's opinion in great letters shone;
That 'life and death in all respects are one."
Henry. Past there no sort of words at their
encounter?

Who thrust still, as he pluck'd, yet (past belief)
He with his subtil eye, hand, body, 'scap'd';
At last the deadly bitten point tugg'd off,
On fell his yet undaunted foe so fiercely
That (only made more horrid with his wound)
Great D'Ambois shrunk, and gave a little ground
But soon return'd, redoubled in his danger,
And at the heart of Barrisor seal'd his anger.

Nuntius. As Hector 'twixt the hosts of Then, as in Arden I have seen an oak

Greece and Troy, When Paris and the Spartan king should end The nine years war, held up his brazen lance For signal that both hosts should cease from

arms,

And hear him speak: so Barrisor (advis'd)
Advanc'd his naked rapier 'twixt both sides,
Ript up the quarrel, and compar'd six lives
Then laid in balance with six idle words;

Long shook with tempests, and his lofty top
Bent to his root, which being at length made

loose

(Even groaning with his weight) he 'gan to nod
This way and that, as loth his curled brows
(Which he had oft wrapt in the sky with storms)
Should stoop; and yet, his radical fibres burst,
Storm-like he fell, and hid the fear-cold earth:
So fell stout Barrisor, that had stood the shocks
Of ten set battles in your highness' war
'Gainst the sole soldier of the world Navarre.

Guise. O piteous and horrid murder!
Beaupre. Such a life

Methinks had metal in it to survive
An age of men.

Henry. Such often soonest end.
Thy felt report calls on; we long to know
On what events the other have arrived.

In my young travels through Armenia,
An angry Unicorn in his full career
Charge with too swift a foot a Jeweller
That watcht him for the treasure of his brow,
And, ere he could get shelter of a tree,
Nail him with his rich antler to the earth:
So D'Ambois ran upon reveng'd L'Anou;
Who eyeing th' eager point borne in his face,
And giving back, fell back, and in his fall
His foes uncurbed sword stopt in his heart:

Nuntius. Sorrow and fury, like two oppo- By which time, all the life-strings of th' two other site fumes

Met in the upper region of a cloud,
At the report made by this worthy's fall,
Brake from the earth, and with them rose Re-

venge,
Ent'ring with fresh pow'rs his two noble friends:
And under that odds fell surcharg'd Brisac;
The friend of D'Ambois, before fierce L'Anou;
Which D'Ambois seeing: as I once did see

Were cut, and both fell (as their spirit few)
Upwards: and still hunt honour at the view.
And now, of all the six, sole D'Ambois stood
Untoucht, save only with the others blood.

Henry. All slain outright but he?
Nuntius. All slain outright but he:
Who kneeling in the warm life of his friends
(All freckled with the blood his rapier rain'd)
He kist their pale lips, and bade both farewell.

John Webster.

Ein Zeitgenosse Ben Jonson's und Nachahmer Shakspeare's; er blühte um 1612-1623 und hat drei Tragödien und eine Tragi-komödie hinterlassen, die er allein und zwei Komödien, die er in Verbindung mit W. Stowley verfasst hat. Seine beiden bedeutendsten Leistungen sind: The white Devil und the Duchess of Malfy. In beiden beurkundet er seltene jedoch oft excentrische dramatische Kraft.

Scenes from

The white Devil: or, Vittoria Corombona, A Lady of Venice. A Tragedy. By John Webster.

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 deseased Camillo; Francisco de Medicis, Brother in Law to Brachiano; the Ambassadors of France, Spain, England, etc. 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.

Fra. A chair there for his lordship.
(Lays a rich gown under him.)
Bra. Forbear your kindness; an unbidden
guest

Should travel as Dutch women go to church,
Bear their stool with them.

Mon. At your pleasure, Sir.
Stand to the table, gentlewoman - Now, Signior,
Fall to your plea.

Lawyer. Domine judex converte oculos in
hanc pestem mulierum corruptissimam.
Vit. What's he?

Fra. A lawyer, that pleads against you.
Vit. Pray, my Lord, let him speak his usual

I'll make no answer else.

tongue,

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
Shall hear what you can charge me with.
Fra. Signior,

You need not stand on't much; pray, change
your language.
Mon. Oh, for God's sake! gentlewoman, your

Shall be more famous by it.

credit

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.

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. O 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
She's fall to soot and ashes.

Vit. Your invenom'd apothecary should do't.
Mon. I am resolved,

Law. Most literated judges, please your Were there a second paradise to lose,

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

Of her, and her projections.

Vit. What's all this?

Law. Hold your peace!

Exorbitant sins must have exulceration.

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 she did counterfeit a Prince's court

In musick, banquets, and most riotous surfeits;

Vit. Surely, my Lords, this lawyer hath swal- This whore forsooth was holy.

lowed

Some apothecaries bills, or proclamations;

And now the hard and undigestible words

Vit. Ha! whore? what's that?

Mon. Shall I expound whore to you? sure
I shall.

Come up like stones we use give hawks for I'll give their perfect character. They are first,

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Exactions upon meat, drink, garments, sleep:
Ay even on man's perdition, his sin.
They are those brittle evidences of law,
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,

Law. I most graduatically thank your lord- At weddings and at funerals. Your rich whores

Mon. (to Vittoria) I shall be plainer with
you, and paint out

Your follies in more natural red and white,
Than that upon your cheek.

Vit. O you mistake,

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

You raise a blood as noble in this cheek
As ever was your mother's.

trouble

All that receive it.

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 adultr'y,

Enters the devil murder.

Fra. Your unhappy husband Is dead.

Vit. O he's a happy husband,
Now he owes Nature nothing.

Fra. And by a vaulting engine.
Mon. An active plot:

He jumpt into his grave.

Fra. What a prodigy was't,

That from some two yards high, a slender man Should break his neck?

Mon. I'th' rushes?

Fra. And what's more,

Upon the instant lose allure of speech,

All vital motion, like a man had lain

Wound up three days. Now mark each circum

stance.

Mon. Well, well, such counterfeit jewels

Make true ones oft suspected.

Vit. You are deceived;

For know, that all your strict combined heads,
Which strike against this mine of diamonds,
Shall prove but glassen hammers, they shall

break.

These are but feigned shadows of my evils.
Terrify babes, my Lord, with painted devils;

I am past such needless palsy. For your names
Of whore and murdress, they proceed from you,
As if a man should spit against the wind;
The filth returns in's face.

Mon. Pray you mistress, satisfy me one

question.

Who lodg'd beneath your roof that fatal night Your husband brake his neck?

Bra. That question

Inforceth me break silence; I was there.
Mon. Your business?

Bra. Why, I came to comfort her,

And take some course for settling her estate, Because I heard her husband was in debt

To you, my Lord.

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

Mon. And look upon this creature was his From every generous and noble spirit,

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,

I would have bespoke my mourning.
Mon. O you are cunning?

Vit. You shame your wit and judgment,

To call it so; what, is my just defence

By him that is my judge call'd impudence? Let me appeal then from this christian court To the uncivil Tartar.

Mon. See, my Lords,

She scandals our proceedings.

Vit. Humbly thus

Thus low, to the most worthy and respected
Leiger embassadors, my modesty
And woman-hood I tender; but withall,
So entangled in a cursed accusation
That my defence, of force, like Perseus,
Must personate masculine virtue. To the point.
Find me but guilty, sever head from body,
We'll part good friends: I scorn to hold my life
At yours, or any man's intreaty, Sir.

En. Emb. She hath a brave spirit.

To orphans and to widows.

Mon. Your lust.

Bra. Cowardly dogs bark loudest! sirrah,

priest,

I'll take with you hereafter. Do you hear? The sword you frame of thy coat resemble Your common post-boys.

Mon. Ha!

Bra. Your mercenary post-boys.

Your letters carry truth, but 'tis your guise
To fill your mouths with gross and impudent

lies.

Servant. My Lord, your gown.
Bra. Thou liest, 'twas my stool.

Bestow't upon thy master, that will challenge
The rest o' th' household-stuff, for Brachiano
Was ne'er so beggarly to take a stool

Out of another's lodging: let him make
Vallance for his bed on't, or demy foot-cloth
For his most reverend moile. Monticelso, nemo
meimpune lacessit.
(Exit Brachiano.)

Mon. Your champion's gone.
Vit. The wolf may pray the better.
Fra. My Lord, there's great suspicion of the

murder,

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