The White Devil Part 4

Corn. [Aside.] My fears are fall'n upon me: oh, my heart!

My son the pander! now I find our house Sinking to ruin. Earthquakes leave behind, Where they have tyranniz'd, iron, or lead, or stone; But woe to ruin, violent l.u.s.t leaves none.

Brach. What value is this jewel?

Vit. 'Tis the ornament of a weak fortune.

Brach. In sooth, I 'll have it; nay, I will but change My jewel for your jewel.

Flam. Excellent; His jewel for her jewel: well put in, duke.

Brach. Nay, let me see you wear it.

Vit. Here, sir?

Brach. Nay, lower, you shall wear my jewel lower.

Flam. That 's better: she must wear his jewel lower.

Vit. To pa.s.s away the time, I 'll tell your grace A dream I had last night.

Brach. Most wishedly.

Vit. A foolish idle dream: Methought I walked about the mid of night Into a churchyard, where a goodly yew-tree Spread her large root in ground: under that yew, As I sat sadly leaning on a grave, Chequer'd with cross-sticks, there came stealing in Your d.u.c.h.ess and my husband; one of them A pickaxe bore, th' other a rusty spade, And in rough terms they 'gan to challenge me About this yew.

Brach. That tree?

Vit. This harmless yew; They told me my intent was to root up That well-grown yew, and plant i' the stead of it A wither'd blackthorn; and for that they vow'd To bury me alive. My husband straight With pickaxe 'gan to dig, and your fell d.u.c.h.ess With shovel, like a fury, voided out The earth and scatter'd bones: Lord, how methought I trembled, and yet for all this terror I could not pray.

Flam. No; the devil was in your dream.

Vit. When to my rescue there arose, methought, A whirlwind, which let fall a ma.s.sy arm From that strong plant; And both were struck dead by that sacred yew, In that base shallow grave that was their due.

Flam. Excellent devil!

She hath taught him in a dream To make away his d.u.c.h.ess and her husband.

Brach. Sweetly shall I interpret this your dream.

You are lodg'd within his arms who shall protect you From all the fevers of a jealous husband, From the poor envy of our phlegmatic d.u.c.h.ess.

I 'll seat you above law, and above scandal; Give to your thoughts the invention of delight, And the fruition; nor shall government Divide me from you longer, than a care To keep you great: you shall to me at once Be dukedom, health, wife, children, friends, and all.

Corn. [Advancing.] Woe to light hearts, they still forerun our fall!

Flam. What fury raised thee up? away, away. [Exit Zanche.

Corn. What make you here, my lord, this dead of night?

Never dropp'd mildew on a flower here till now.

Flam. I pray, will you go to bed then, Lest you be blasted?

Corn. O that this fair garden Had with all poison'd herbs of Thessaly At first been planted; made a nursery For witchcraft, rather than a burial plot For both your honours!

Vit. Dearest mother, hear me.

Corn. O, thou dost make my brow bend to the earth.

Sooner than nature! See the curse of children!

In life they keep us frequently in tears; And in the cold grave leave us in pale fears.

Brach. Come, come, I will not hear you.

Vit. Dear my lord.

Corn. Where is thy d.u.c.h.ess now, adulterous duke?

Thou little dream'st this night she 's come to Rome.

Flam. How! come to Rome!

Vit. The d.u.c.h.ess!

Brach. She had been better----