SCENE II.--_An Apartment in the Palace.

_Enter_ VENDICE, _out of his disguise, and_ HIPPOLITO.

_Hip._ So, so, all's as it should be, y'are yourself.

_Ven._ How that great villain puts me to my shifts!

_Hip._ He that did lately in disguise reject thee, Shall, now thou art thyself, as much respect thee.

_Ven._ 'Twill be the quainter fallacy. But, brother, 'Sfoot, what use will he put me to now, think'st thou?

_Hip._ Nay, you must pardon me in that: I know not. He has some employment for you: but what 'tis, He and his secretary (the devil) know best.

_Ven._ Well, I must suit my tongue to his desires, What colour soe'er they be; hoping at last To pile up all my wishes on his breast.

_Hip._ Faith, brother, he himself shows the way.

_Ven._ Now the duke is dead, the realm is clad in clay. His death being not yet known, under his name The people still are governed. Well, thou his son Art not long-lived: thou shalt not joy his death. To kill thee, then, I should most honour thee; For 'twould stand firm in every man's belief, Thou'st a kind child, and only died'st with grief.

_Hip._ You fetch about well; but let's talk in present. How will you appear in fashion different, As well as in apparel, to make all things possible? If you be but once tripped, we fall for ever. It is not the least policy to be doubtful; You must change tongue: familiar was your first.

_Ven._ Why, I'll bear me in some strain of melancholy, And string myself with heavy-sounding wire, Like such an instrument, that speaks merry things sadly.

_Hip._ Then 'tis as I meant; I gave you out at first in discontent.

_Ven._ I'll tune myself, and then--

_Hip._ 'Sfoot, here he comes. Hast thought upon't?

_Ven._ Salute him; fear not me.

_Enter_ LUSSURIOSO.

_Lus._ Hippolito!

_Hip._ Your lordship--

_Lus._ What's he yonder?

_Hip._ 'Tis Vendice, my discontented brother, Whom, 'cording to your will, I've brought to court.

_Lus._ Is that thy brother? Beshrew me, a good presence; I wonder he has been from the court so long. Come nearer.

_Hip._ Brother! Lord Lussurioso, the duke's son.

_Lus._ Be more near to us; welcome; nearer yet.

_Ven._ How don you? gi' you good den. [_Takes off his hat and bows._

_Lus._ We thank thee. How strangely such a coarse homely salute Shows in the palace, where we greet in fire, Nimble and desperate tongues! should we name God in a salutation, 'twould ne'er be stood on;--Heaven! Tell me, what has made thee so melancholy?

_Ven._ Why, going to law.

_Lus._ Why, will that make a man melancholy?

_Ven._ Yes, to look long upon ink and black buckram. I went me to law in _anno quadragesimo secundo_, and I waded out of it in _anno sexagesimo tertio_.

_Lus._ What, three-and-twenty years in law?

_Ven._ I have known those that have been five-and-fifty, and all about pullen[222] and pigs.

_Lus._ May it be possible such men should breathe, To vex the terms so much?

_Ven._ 'Tis food to some, my lord. There are old men at the present, that are so poisoned with the affectation of law-words (having had many suits canvassed), that their common talk is nothing but Barbary Latin. They cannot so much as pray but in law, that their sins may be removed with a writ of error, and their souls fetched up to Heaven with a sasarara.[223]

_Lus._ It seems most strange to me; Yet all the world meets round in the same bent: Where the heart's set, there goes the tongue's consent. How dost apply thy studies, fellow?

_Ven._ Study? why, to think how a great rich man lies a-dying, and a poor cobbler tolls the bell for him. How he cannot depart the world, and see the great chest stand before him; when he lies speechless, how he will point you readily to all the boxes; and when he is past all memory, as the gossips guess, then thinks he of forfeitures and obligations; nay, when to all men's hearings he whurls and rattles in the throat, he's busy threatening his poor tenants. And this would last me now some seven years' thinking, or thereabouts. But I have a conceit a-coming in picture upon this; I draw it myself, which, i' faith, la, I'll present to your honour; you shall not choose but like it, for your honour shall give me nothing for it.

_Lus._ Nay, you mistake me, then, For I am published bountiful enough. Let's taste of your conceit.

_Ven._ In picture, my Lord?

_Lus._ Ay, in picture.

_Ven._ Marry, this it is--"A usuring father to be boiling in hell, and his son and heir with a whore dancing over him."

_Hip._ He has pared him to the quick. [_Aside._

_Lus._ The conceit's pretty, i' faith; But, take't upon my life, 'twill ne'er be liked.

_Ven._ No? why I'm sure the whore will be liked well enough.

_Hip._ Aye, if she were out o' the picture, he'd like her then himself. [_Aside._

_Ven._ And as for the son and heir, he shall be an eyesore to no young revellers, for he shall be drawn in cloth-of-gold breeches.

_Lus._ And thou hast put my meaning in the pockets, And canst not draw that out? My thought was this: To see the picture of a usuring father Boiling in hell--our rich men would never like it.

_Ven._ O, true, I cry you heartily mercy, I know the reason, for some of them had rather Be damned in deed than damned in colours.

_Lus._ A parlous melancholy! he has wit enough To murder any man, and I'll give him means. [_Aside._ I think thou art ill-moneyed?

_Ven._ Money! ho, ho! 'T has been my want so long, 'tis now my scoff: I've e'en forgot what colour silver's of.

_Lus._ It hits as I could wish. [_Aside._

_Ven._ I get good clothes Of those that dread my humour; and for table-room I feed on those that cannot be rid of me.

_Lus._ Somewhat to set thee up withal. [_Gives him money._

_Ven._ O mine eyes!

_Lus._ How now, man?

_Ven._ Almost struck blind; This bright unusual shine to me seems proud; I dare not look till the sun be in a cloud.

_Lus._ I think I shall affect[224] his melancholy, How are they now?

_Ven._ The better for your asking.

_Lus._ You shall be better yet, if you but fasten Truly on my intent. Now y'are both present, I will unbrace such a close private villain Unto your vengeful swords, the like ne'er heard of, Who hath disgraced you much, and injured us.

_Hip._ Disgraced us, my lord?

_Lus._ Ay, Hippolito. I kept it here till now, that both your angers Might meet him at once.

_Ven._ I'm covetous To know the villain.

_Lus._ You know him: that slave-pander, Piato, whom we threatened last With irons in perpetual 'prisonment.

_Ven._ All this is I. [_Aside._

_Hip._ Is't he, my lord?

_Lus._ I'll tell you; you first preferred him to me.

_Ven._ Did you, brother?

_Hip._ I did indeed.

_Lus._ And the ungrateful villain, To quit that kindness, strongly wrought with me-- Being, as you see, a likely man for pleasure-- With jewels to corrupt your virgin sister.

_Hip._ O villain!

_Ven._ He shall surely die that did it.

_Lus._ I, far from thinking any virgin harm, Especially knowing her to be as chaste As that part which scarce suffers to be touched-- The eye--would not endure him.

_Ven._ Would you not, my lord? 'Twas wondrous honourably done.

_Lus._ But with some fine frowns kept him out.

_Ven._ Out, slave!

_Lus._ What did me he, but in revenge of that, Went of his own free will to make infirm Your sister's honour (whom I honour with my soul For chaste respect) and not prevailing there (As 'twas but desperate folly to attempt it), In mere spleen, by the way, waylays your mother, Whose honour being a coward as it seems, Yielded by little force.

_Ven._ Coward indeed!

_Lus._ He, proud of this advantage (as he thought), Brought me this news for happy. But I, Heaven forgive me for't!--

_Ven._ What did your honour?

_Lus._ In rage pushed him from me, Trampled beneath his throat, spurned him, and bruised: Indeed I was too cruel, to say troth.

_Hip._ Most nobly managed!

_Ven._ Has not Heaven an ear? is all the lightning wasted? [_Aside._

_Lus._ If I now were so impatient in a modest cause, What should you be?

_Ven._ Full mad: he shall not live To see the moon change.

_Lus._ He's about the palace; Hippolito, entice him this way, that thy brother May take full mark of him.

_Hip._ Heart! that shall not need, my lord: I can direct him so far.

_Lus._ Yet for my hate's sake, Go, wind him this way. I'll see him bleed myself.

_Hip._ What now, brother? [_Aside._

_Ven._ Nay, e'en what you will--y'are put to't, brother. [_Aside._

_Hip._ An impossible task, I'll swear, To bring him hither, that's already here. [_Aside and Exit._

_Lus._ Thy name? I have forgot it.

_Ven._ Vendice, my lord.

_Lus._ 'Tis a good name that.

_Ven._ Ay, a revenger.

_Lus._ It does betoken courage; thou shouldst be valiant, And kill thine enemies.

_Ven._ That's my hope, my lord.

_Lus._ This slave is one.

_Ven._ I'll doom him.

_Lus._ Then I'll praise thee. Do thou observe me best, and I'll best raise thee.

_Re-enter_ HIPPOLITO.

_Ven._ Indeed, I thank you.

_Lus._ Now, Hippolito, where's the slave-pander?

_Hip._ Your good lordship Would have a loathsome sight of him, much offensive. He's not in case now to be seen, my lord. The worst of all the deadly sins is in him-- That beggarly damnation, drunkenness.

_Lus._ Then he's a double slave.

_Ven._ 'Twas well conveyed upon a sudden wit. [_Aside._

_Lus._ What, are you both Firmly resolved? I'll see him dead myself.

_Ven._ Or else let not us live.

_Lus._ You may direct your brother to take note of him.

_Hip._ I shall.

_Lus._ Rise but in this, and you shall never fall.

_Ven._ Your honour's vassals.

_Lus._ This was wisely carried. [_Aside._ Deep policy in us makes fools of such: Then must a slave die, when he knows too much. [_Exit._

_Ven._ O thou almighty patience! 'tis my wonder That such a fellow, impudent and wicked, Should not be cloven as he stood; Or with a secret wind burst open! Is there no thunder left: or is't kept up In stock for heavier vengeance? [_Thunder_] there it goes!

_Hip._ Brother, we lose ourselves.

_Ven._ But I have found it; 'Twill hold, 'tis sure; thanks, thanks to any spirit, That mingled it 'mongst my inventions.

_Hip._ What is't?

_Ven._ 'Tis sound and good; thou shalt partake it; I'm hired to kill myself.

_Hip._ True.

_Ven._ Prythee, mark it; And the old duke being dead, but not conveyed, For he's already missed too, and you know Murder will peep out of the closest husk--

_Hip._ Most true.

_Ven._ What say you then to this device? If we dressed up the body of the duke?

_Hip._ In that disguise of yours?

_Ven._ Y'are quick, y' have reached it.

_Hip._ I like it wondrously.

_Ven._ And being in drink, as you have published him. To lean him on his elbow, as if sleep had caught him, Which claims most interest in such sluggy men?

_Hip._ Good yet; but here's a doubt; We, thought by the duke's son to kill that pander, Shall, when he is known, be thought to kill the duke.

_Ven._ Neither, O thanks! it is substantial: For that disguise being on him which I wore, It will be thought I, which he calls the pander, did kill the duke, and fled away in his apparel, leaving him so disguised to avoid swift pursuit.

_Hip._ Firmer and firmer.

_Ven._ Nay, doubt not, 'tis in grain: I warrant it holds colour.

_Hip._ Let's about it.

_Ven._ By the way, too, now I think on't, brother, Let's conjure that base devil out of our mother. [_Exeunt._