The White Devil Part 16

Vit. I am not compell'd to tell you.

Mont. My lord duke sent to you a thousand ducats The twelfth of August.

Vit. 'Twas to keep your cousin From prison; I paid use for 't.

Mont. I rather think, 'Twas interest for his l.u.s.t.

Vit. Who says so but yourself?

If you be my accuser, Pray cease to be my judge: come from the bench; Give in your evidence 'gainst me, and let these Be moderators. My lord cardinal, Were your intelligencing ears as loving As to my thoughts, had you an honest tongue, I would not care though you proclaim'd them all.

Mont. Go to, go to.

After your goodly and vainglorious banquet, I 'll give you a choke-pear.

Vit. O' your own grafting?

Mont. You were born in Venice, honourably descended From the Vittelli: 'twas my cousin's fate, Ill may I name the hour, to marry you; He bought you of your father.

Vit. Ha!

Mont. He spent there in six months Twelve thousand ducats, and (to my acquaintance) Receiv'd in dowry with you not one Julio: 'Twas a hard pennyworth, the ware being so light.

I yet but draw the curtain; now to your picture: You came from thence a most notorious strumpet, And so you have continued.

Vit. My lord!

Mont. Nay, hear me, You shall have time to prate. My Lord Brachiano-- Alas! I make but repet.i.tion Of what is ordinary and Rialto talk, And ballated, and would be play'd a' th' stage, But that vice many times finds such loud friends, That preachers are charm'd silent.

You, gentlemen, Flamineo and Marcello, The Court hath nothing now to charge you with, Only you must remain upon your sureties For your appearance.

Fran. I stand for Marcello.

Flam. And my lord duke for me.

Mont. For you, Vittoria, your public fault, Join'd to th' condition of the present time, Takes from you all the fruits of n.o.ble pity, Such a corrupted trial have you made Both of your life and beauty, and been styl'd No less an ominous fate than blazing stars To princes. Hear your sentence: you are confin'd Unto a house of convert.i.tes, and your bawd----

Flam. [Aside.] Who, I?

Mont. The Moor.

Flam. [Aside.] Oh, I am a sound man again.

Vit. A house of convert.i.tes! what 's that?

Mont. A house of penitent wh.o.r.es.

Vit. Do the n.o.blemen in Rome Erect it for their wives, that I am sent To lodge there?

Fran. You must have patience.

Vit. I must first have vengeance!

I fain would know if you have your salvation By patent, that you proceed thus.

Mont. Away with her, Take her hence.

Vit. A rape! a rape!

Mont. How?

Vit. Yes, you have ravish'd justice; Forc'd her to do your pleasure.

Mont. Fie, she 's mad----

Vit. Die with those pills in your most cursed maw, Should bring you health! or while you sit o' th' bench, Let your own spittle choke you!

Mont. She 's turned fury.

Vit. That the last day of judgment may so find you, And leave you the same devil you were before!

Instruct me, some good horse-leech, to speak treason; For since you cannot take my life for deeds, Take it for words. O woman's poor revenge, Which dwells but in the tongue! I will not weep; No, I do scorn to call up one poor tear To fawn on your injustice: bear me hence Unto this house of--what's your mitigating t.i.tle?