SCENE II.--_A Hall of justice. A scaffold at one end.

_Enter_ Judges _and_ Officers.

_1st Judge._ Bring forth the malefactors to the bar.

_Enter_ CATAPLASMA, SOQUETTE, _and_ FRESCO.

Are you the gentlewoman in whose house The murders were committed?

_Cata._ Yes, my lord.

_1st Judge._ That worthy attribute of gentry which Your habit draws from ignorant respect Your name deserves not, nor yourself the name Of woman, since you are the poison that Infects the honour of all womanhood.

_Cata._ My lord, I am a gentlewoman; yet I must confess my poverty compels My life to a condition lower than My birth or breeding.

_2nd Judge._ Tush, we know your birth.

_1st Judge._ But, under colour to profess the sale Of tires and toys for gentlewomen's pride, You draw a frequentation of men's wives To your licentious house, and there abuse Their husbands.--

_Fres._ Good my lord, her rent is great. The good gentlewoman has no other thing To live by but her lodgings. So she's forced To let her fore-rooms out to others, and Herself contented to lie backwards.

_2nd Judge._ So.

_1st Judge._ Here is no evidence accuses you For accessories to the murder, yet Since from the spring of lust, which you preserved And nourished, ran the effusion of that blood, Your punishment shall come as near to death As life can bear it. Law cannot inflict Too much severity upon the cause Of such abhorred effects.

_2nd Judge._ Receive your sentence. Your goods (since they were gotten by that means Which brings diseases) shall be turned to the use Of hospitals. You carted through the streets According to the common shame of strumpets, Your bodies whipped, till with the loss of blood You faint under the hand of punishment. Then that the necessary force of want May not provoke you to your former life, You shall be set to painful labour, whose Penurious gains shall only give you food To hold up Nature, mortify your flesh, And make you fit for a repentant end.

_All._ O good my lord!

_1st Judge._ No more. Away with 'em. [_Exeunt_ CATAPLASMA, SOQUETTE, _and_ FRESCO.

_Enter_ LANGUEBEAU SNUFFE.

_2nd Judge._ Now, Monsieur Snuffe! A man of your profession Found in a place of such impiety!

_Lang._ I grant you. The place is full of impurity. So much the more need of instruction and reformation. The purpose that carried me thither was with the spirit of conversion to purify their uncleanness, and I hope your lordship will say the law cannot take hold o' me for that.

_1st Judge._ No, sir, it cannot; but yet give me leave To tell you that I hold your wary answer Rather premeditated for excuse Then spoken out of a religious purpose. Where took you your degrees of scholarship?

_Lang._ I am no scholar, my lord. To speak the sincere truth, I am Snuffe the tallow-chandler.

_2nd Judge._ How comes your habits to be altered thus?

_Lang._ My Lord Belforest, taking a delight in the cleanness of my conversation, withdrew me from that unclean life and put me in a garment fit for his society, and my present profession.

_1st Judge._ His lordship did but paint a rotten post, Or cover foulness fairly. Monsieur Snuffe, Back to your candle-making! You may give The world more light with that, than either with Instruction or the example of your life.

_Lang._ Thus the Snuffe is put out. [_Exit._

_Enter_ D'AMVILLE _distractedly with the hearses of his two_ Sons _borne after him._

_D'Am._ Judgment! Judgment!

_2nd Judge._ Judgment, my lord, in what?

_D'Am._ Your judgment must resolve me in a case. Bring in the bodies. Nay, I'll ha' it tried. This is the case, my lord. By providence, Even in a moment, by the only hurt Of one, or two, or three at most, and those Put quickly out o' pain, too, mark me, I Had wisely raised a competent estate To my posterity. And is there not More wisdom and more charity in that Than for your lordship, or your father, or Your grandsire to prolong the torment and The rack of rent from age to age upon Your poor penurious tenants, yet perhaps Without a penny profit to your heir? Is't not more wise? more charitable? Speak.

_1st Judge._ He is distracted.

_D'Am._ How? distracted? Then You ha' no judgment. I can give you sense And solid reason for the very least Distinguishable syllable I speak. Since my thrift Was more judicious than your grandsires', why I would fain know why your lordship lives to make A second generation from your father, And the whole fry of my posterity Extinguished in a moment. Not a brat Left to succeed me.--I would fain know that.

_2nd Judge._ Grief for his children's death distempers him.

_1st Judge._ My lord, we will resolve you of your question.[176] In the meantime vouchsafe your place with us.

_D'Am._ I am contented, so you will resolve me. [_Ascends._

_Enter_ CHARLEMONT _and_ CASTABELLA.

_2nd Judge._ Now, Monsieur Charlemont, you are accused Of having murdered one Borachio, that Was servant to my Lord D'Amville. How can You clear yourself? Guilty or not guilty?

_Charl._ Guilty of killing him, but not of murder. My lords, I have no purpose to desire Remission for myself.-- [D'AMVILLE _descends to_ CHARLEMONT.

_D'Am._ Uncivil boy! Thou want'st humanity to smile at grief. Why dost thou cast a cheerful eye upon The object of my sorrow--my dead sons?

_1st Judge._ O good my lord, let charity forbear To vex the spirit of a dying man. A cheerful eye upon the face of death Is the true countenance of a noble mind. For honour's sake, my lord, molest it not.

_D'Am._ Y'are all uncivil. O! is't not enough That he unjustly hath conspired with Fate To cut off my posterity, for him To be the heir to my possessions, but He must pursue me with his presence. And, in the ostentation of his joy, Laugh in my face and glory in my grief?

_Charl._ D'Amville, to show thee with what light respect I value death and thy insulting pride, Thus, like a warlike navy on the sea, Bound for the conquest of some wealthy land, Passed through the stormy troubles of this life, And now arrived upon the armèd coast In expectation of the victory Whose honour lies beyond this exigent,[177] Through mortal danger, with an active spirit Thus I aspire to undergo my death. [_Leaps up the scaffold._ CASTABELLA _leaps after him._

_Cast._ And thus I second thy brave enterprise. Be cheerful, Charlemont. Our lives cut off In our young prime of years are like green herbs Wherewith we strew the hearses of our friends. For, as their virtue, gathered when they are green, Before they wither or corrupt, is best; So we in virtue are the best for death While yet we have not lived to such an age That the increasing canker of our sins Hath spread too far upon us.--

_D'Am._ A boon, my lords, I beg a boon.

_1st Judge._ What's that, my lord?

_D'Am._ His body when 'tis dead For an anatomy.[178]

_2nd Judge._ For what, my lord?

_D'Am._ Your understanding still comes short o' mine. I would find out by his anatomy What thing there is in Nature more exact Than in the constitution of myself. Methinks my parts and my dimensions are As many, as large, as well composed as his; And yet in me the resolution wants To die with that assurance as he does. The cause of that in his anatomy I would find out.

_1st Judge._ Be patient and you shall.

_D'Am._ I have bethought me of a better way. --Nephew, we must confer.--Sir, I am grown A wondrous student now o' late. My wit Has reached beyond the scope of Nature, yet For all my learning I am still to seek From whence the peace of conscience should proceed.

_Charl._ The peace of conscience rises in itself.

_D'Am._ Whether it be thy art or nature, I Admire thee, Charlemont. Why, thou hast taught A woman to be valiant. I will beg Thy life.--My lords, I beg my nephew's life. I'll make thee my physician. Thou shalt read Philosophy to me. I will find out The efficient cause of a contented mind. But if I cannot profit in't, then 'tis No more good being my physician, But infuse A little poison in a potion when Thou giv'st me physic, unawares to me. So I shall steal into my grave without The understanding or the fear of death. And that's the end I aim at. For the thought Of death is a most fearful torment; is it not?

_2nd Judge._ Your lordship interrupts the course of law.

_1st Judge._ Prepare to die.

_Charl._ My resolution's made. But ere I die, before this honoured bench, With the free voice of a departing soul, I here protest this gentlewoman clear Of all offence the law condemns her for.

_Cast._ I have accused myself. The law wants power To clear me. My dear Charlemont, with thee I will partake of all thy punishments.

_Charl._ Uncle, for all the wealthy benefits My death advances you, grant me but this: Your mediation for the guiltless life Of Castabella, whom your conscience knows As justly clear as harmless innocence.

_D'Am._ Freely. My mediation for her life And all my interest in the world to boot; Let her but in exchange possess me of The resolution that she dies withal. --The price of things is best known in their want. Had I her courage, so I value it: The Indies should not buy't out o' my hands.

_Charl._ Give me a glass of water.

_D'Am._ Me of wine.-- This argument of death congeals my blood. Cold fear, with apprehension of thy end, Hath frozen up the rivers of my veins.-- [Servant _brings him a glass of wine._ I must drink wine to warm me and dissolve The obstruction; or an apoplexy will Possess me.--Why, thou uncharitable knave, Dost thou bring me blood to drink? The very glass Looks pale and trembles at it.

_Ser._ 'Tis your hand, my lord.

_D'Am._ Canst blame me to be fearful, bearing still The presence of a murderer about me? [Servant _gives_ CHARLEMONT _a glass of water._

_Charl._ Is this water?

_Ser._ Water, sir.

_Charl._ Come, thou clear emblem of cool temperance, Be thou my witness that I use no art To force my courage nor have need of helps To raise my spirits, like those of weaker men Who mix their blood with wine, and out of that Adulterate conjunction do beget A bastard valour. Native courage, thanks. Thou lead'st me soberly to undertake This great hard work of magnanimity.

_D'Am._ Brave Charlemont, at the reflexion of Thy courage my cold fearful blood takes fire, And I begin to emulate thy death. [Executioner _comes forward._ --Is that thy executioner? My lords, You wrong the honour of so high a blood To let him suffer by so base a hand.

_Judges._ He suffers by the form of law, my lord.

_D'Am._ I will reform it. Down, you shag-haired cur.[179] The instrument that strikes my nephew's blood Shall be as noble as his blood. I'll be Thy executioner myself.

_1st Judge._ Restrain his fury. Good my lord, forbear.

_D'Am._ I'll butcher out the passage of his soul That dares attempt to interrupt the blow.

_2nd Judge._ My lord, the office will impress a mark Of scandal and dishonour on your name.

_Charl._ The office fits him: hinder not his hand, But let him crown my resolution with An unexampled dignity of death. Strike home. Thus I submit me. [_Is made ready for execution._

_Cast._ So do I. In scorn of death thus hand in hand we die.

_D'Am._ I ha' the trick on't, nephew. You shall see How easily I can put you out of pain.--Oh! [_As he raises up the axe he strikes out his own brains, and staggers off the scaffold._

_Exe._ In lifting up the axe I think he's knocked his brains out.

_D'Am._ What murderer was he that lifted up My hand against my head?

_1st Judge._ None but yourself, my lord.

_D'Am._ I thought he was a murderer that did it.

_1st Judge._ God forbid!

_D'Am._ Forbid? You lie, judge. He commanded it. To tell thee that man's wisdom is a fool. I came to thee for judgment, and thou think'st Thyself a wise man, I outreached thy wit And made thy justice murder's instrument, In Castabella's death and in Charlemont's, To crown my murder of Montferrers with A safe possession of his wealthy state.

_Charl._ I claim the just advantage of his words.

_2nd Judge._ Descend the scaffold and attend the rest.

_D'Am._ There was the strength of natural understanding. But Nature is a fool. There is a power Above her that hath overthrown the pride Of all my projects and posterity, For whose surviving blood I had erected a proud monument, And struck 'em dead before me, for whose deaths I called to thee for judgment. Thou didst want Discretion for the sentence. But yon power That struck me knew the judgment I deserved, And gave it.--O! the lust of death commits A rape upon me as I would ha' done On Castabella. [_Dies_.

_1st Judge._ Strange is his death and judgment. With the hands Of joy and justice I thus set you free. The power of that eternal providence Which overthrew his projects in their pride Hath made your griefs the instruments to raise Your blessings to a higher height than ever.

_Charl._ Only to Heaven I attribute the work, Whose gracious motives made me still forbear To be mine own revenger. Now I see That patience is the honest man's revenge.

_1st Judge._ Instead of Charlemont that but e'en now Stood ready to be dispossessed of all, I now salute you with more titles both Of wealth and dignity, than you were born to. And you, sweet madam, Lady of Belforest, You have the title by your father's death.

_Cast._ With all the titles due to me, increase The wealth and honour of my Charlemont, Lord of Montferrers, Lord D'Amville Belforest,-- And for a close to make up all the rest-- [_Embraces_ CHARLEMONT. The Lord of Castabella. Now at last Enjoy the full possession of my love, As clear and pure as my first chastity.

_Charl._ The crown of all my blessings!--I will tempt My stars no longer, nor protract my time Of marriage. When those nuptial rites are done, I will perform my kinsmen's funeral.

_1st Judge._ The drums and trumpets! Interchange the sounds Of death and triumph. For these honoured lives, Succeeding their deservèd tragedies.

_Charl._ Thus, by the work of heaven, the men that thought To follow our dead bodies without tears Are dead themselves, and now we follow theirs. [_Exeunt._

_THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY._

This play was entered on the stationers' books in 1607, and was sometimes called _The Loyal Brother_. There are two quarto editions of it, one dated 1607 and one 1608, and from the care with which the text is printed it is probable that the author revised the proofs. The play has several times been reprinted. Tourneur's plots have no known source.

_DRAMATIS PERSONÆ._

THE DUKE.

LUSSURIOSO, the Duke's Son.

SPURIO, a Bastard.

AMBITIOSO, the Duchess' Eldest Son.

SUPERVACUO, the Duchess' Second Son.

The Duchess' Youngest Son.

VENDICE, disguised as PIATO, HIPPOLITO, also called CARLO, Brothers of CASTIZA.

ANTONIO, PIERO, DONDOLO, Nobles.

Judges, Nobles, Gentlemen, Officers, Keeper, Servants.

THE DUCHESS.

CASTIZA.

GRATIANA, Mother of CASTIZA.

SCENE--A CITY OF ITALY.

_THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY._

ACT THE FIRST.