The White Devil Part 19

Flam. Never, till the beggary of courtiers, The discontent of churchmen, want of soldiers, And all the creatures that hang manacled, Worse than strappadoed, on the lowest felly Of fortune's wheel, be taught, in our two lives, To scorn that world which life of means deprives.

Ant. My lord, I bring good news. The Pope, on 's death bed, At th' earnest suit of the great Duke of Florence, Hath sign'd your pardon, and restor'd unto you----

Lodo. I thank you for your news. Look up again, Flamineo, see my pardon.

Flam. Why do you laugh?

There was no such condition in our covenant.

Lodo. Why?

Flam. You shall not seem a happier man than I: You know our vow, sir; if you will be merry, Do it i' th' like posture, as if some great man Sat while his enemy were executed: Though it be very lechery unto thee, Do 't with a crabbed politician's face.

Lodo. Your sister is a d.a.m.nable wh.o.r.e.

Flam. Ha!

Lodo. Look you, I spake that laughing.

Flam. Dost ever think to speak again?

Lodo. Do you hear?

Wilt sell me forty ounces of her blood To water a mandrake?

Flam. Poor lord, you did vow To live a lousy creature.

Lodo. Yes.

Flam. Like one That had for ever forfeited the daylight, By being in debt.

Lodo. Ha, ha!

Flam. I do not greatly wonder you do break, Your lords.h.i.+p learn'd 't long since. But I 'll tell you.

Lodo. What?

Flam. And 't shall stick by you.

Lodo. I long for it.

Flam. This laughter scurvily becomes your face: If you will not be melancholy, be angry. [Strikes him.

See, now I laugh too.

Marc. You are to blame: I 'll force you hence.

Lodo. Unhand me. [Exeunt Marcello and Flamineo.

That e'er I should be forc'd to right myself, Upon a pander!

Ant. My lord.

Lodo. H' had been as good met with his fist a thunderbolt.

Gas. How this shows!

Lodo. Ud's death! how did my sword miss him?

These rogues that are most weary of their lives Still 'scape the greatest dangers.

A pox upon him; all his reputation, Nay, all the goodness of his family, Is not worth half this earthquake: I learn'd it of no fencer to shake thus: Come, I 'll forget him, and go drink some wine.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV

SCENE I

Enter Francisco and Monticelso

Mont. Come, come, my lord, untie your folded thoughts, And let them dangle loose, as a bride's hair.

Your sister's poisoned.

Fran. Far be it from my thoughts To seek revenge.