SCENE I.—A Room in the Lodge. The Duke's corpse, dressed in Vendice's disguise, lying on a couch.

Enter Vendice and Hippolito.

Ven. So, so, he leans well; take heed you wake him not, brother.

Hip. I warrant you my life for yours.

Ven. That's a good lay, for I must kill myself. Brother, that's I, that sits for me: do you mark it? And I must stand ready here to make away myself yonder. I must sit to be killed, and stand to kill myself. I could vary it not so little as thrice over again; 't has some eight returns, like Michaelmas term.[229]

Hip. That's enow, o' conscience.

Ven. But, sirrah, does the duke's son come single?

Hip. No; there's the hell on't: his faith's too feeble to go alone. He brings flesh-flies after him, that will buzz against supper-time, and hum for his coming out.

Ven. Ah, the fly-flap of vengeance beat 'em to pieces! Here was the sweetest occasion, the fittest hour, to have made my revenge familiar with him; show him the body of the duke his father, and how quaintly he died, like a politician, in hugger-mugger,[230] made no man acquainted with it; and in catastrophe slay him over his father's breast. O, I'm mad to lose such a sweet opportunity!

Hip. Nay, tush! prythee, be content! there's no remedy present; may not hereafter times open in as fair faces as this?

Ven. They may, if they can paint so well.

Hip. Come now: to avoid all suspicion, let's forsake this room, and be going to meet the duke's son.

Ven. Content: I'm for any weather. Heart! step close: here he comes.

Enter Lussurioso.

Hip. My honoured lord!

Lus. O me! you both present?

Ven. E'en newly, my lord, just as your lordship entered now: about this place we had notice given he should be, but in some loathsome plight or other.

Hip. Came your honour private?

Lus. Private enough for this; only a few Attend my coming out. Hip. Death rot those few! [Aside. Lus. Stay, yonder's the slave. Ven. Mass, there's the slave, indeed, my lord. 'Tis a good child: he calls his father a slave! [Aside. Lus. Ay, that's the villain, the damned villain. Softly. Tread easy. Ven. Pah! I warrant you, my lord, we'll stifle in our breaths. Lus. That will do well: Base rogue, thou sleepest thy last; 'tis policy To have him killed in's sleep; for if he waked, He would betray all to them. Ven. But, my lord— Lus. Ha, what say'st?

Ven. Shall we kill him now he's drunk?

Lus. Ay, best of all.

Ven. Why, then he will ne'er live to be sober.

Lus. No matter, let him reel to hell.

Ven. But being so full of liquor, I fear he will put out all the fire.

Lus. Thou art a mad beast.

Ven. And leave none to warm your lordship's golls[231] withal; for he that dies drunk falls into hell-fire like a bucket of water—qush, qush!

Lus. Come, be ready: nake[232] your swords: think of your wrongs; this slave has injured you.

Ven. Troth, so he has, and he has paid well for't.

Lus. Meet with him now.

Ven. You'll bear us out, my lord?

Lus. Pooh! am I a lord for nothing, think you? quickly now!

Ven. Sa, sa, sa, thump [Stabs the Duke's corpse]—there he lies.

Lus. Nimbly done.—Ha! O villains! murderers! 'Tis the old duke, my father. Ven. That's a jest. Lus. What stiff and cold already! O, pardon me to call you from your names: 'Tis none of your deed. That villain Piato, Whom you thought now to kill, has murdered And left him thus disguised. Hip. And not unlikely. Ven. O rascal! was he not ashamed To put the duke into a greasy doublet? Lus. He has been stiff and cold—who knows how long? Ven. Marry, that I do. [Aside. Lus. No words, I pray, of anything intended. Ven. O my lord.

Hip. I would fain have your lordship think that we have small reason to prate.

Lus. Faith, thou say'st true; I'll forthwith send to court For all the nobles, bastard, duchess; tell, How here by miracle we found him dead, And in his raiment that foul villain fled. Ven. That will be the best way, my lord, To clear us all; let's cast about to be clear. Lus. Ho! Nencio, Sordido, and the rest!

Enter all of them.

1st Ser. My lord.

2nd Ser. My lord.

Lus. Be witnesses of a strange spectacle. Choosing for private conference that sad room, We found the duke my father gealed in blood. 1st Ser. My lord the duke! run, hie thee, Nencio. Startle the court by signifying so much. Ven. Thus much by wit a deep revenger can, When murder's known, to be the clearest man. We're farthest off, and with as bold an eye Survey his body as the standers-by. [Aside. Lus. My royal father, too basely let blood By a malevolent slave! Hip. Hark! he calls thee slave again. [Aside. Ven. He has lost: he may. [Aside. Lus. O sight! look hither, see, his lips are gnawn With poison. Ven. How! his lips? by the mass, they be. O villain! O rogue! O slave! O rascal! Hip. O good deceit! he quits him with like terms. [Aside. Amb. [Within.] Where? Sup. [Within.] Which way?

Enter Ambitioso and Supervacuo, with Nobles and Gentlemen.

Amb. Over what roof hangs this prodigious comet In deadly fire?

Lus. Behold, behold, my lords, the duke my father's murdered by a vassal that owes this habit, and here left disguised.

Enter Duchess and Spurio.

Duch. My lord and husband!

1st Noble. Reverend majesty!

2nd Noble. I have seen these clothes often attending on him. Ven. That nobleman has been' i' th' country, for he does not lie. [Aside. Sup. Learn of our mother; let's dissemble too: I am glad he's vanished; so, I hope, are you. Amb. Ay, you may take my word for't. Spu. Old dad dead! I, one of his cast sins, will send the Fates Most hearty commendations by his own son; I'll tug in the new stream, till strength be done. Lus. Where be those two that did affirm to us, My lord the duke was privately rid forth? 1st Gent. O, pardon us, my lords; he gave that charge— Upon our lives, if he were missed at court, To answer so; he rode not anywhere; We left him private with that fellow here. Ven. Confirmed. [Aside. Lus. O Heavens! that false charge was his death. Impudent beggars! durst you to our face Maintain such a false answer? Bear him straight To execution. 1st Gent. My lord! Lus. Urge me no more in this! The excuse may be called half the murder. Ven. You've sentenced well. [Aside. Lus. Away; see it be done. Ven. Could you not stick? See what confession doth! Who would not lie, when men are hanged for truth? [Aside. Hip. Brother, how happy is our vengeance! [Aside. Ven. Why, it hits past the apprehension of Indifferent wits. [Aside. Lus. My lord, let post-horses be sent Into all places to entrap the villain. Ven. Post-horses, ha, ha! [Aside. 1st Noble. My lord, we're something bold to know our duty. Your father's accidentally departed; The titles that were due to him meet you. Lus. Meet me! I'm not at leisure, my good lord. I've many griefs to despatch out o' the way. Welcome, sweet titles!—[Aside. Talk to me, my lords, Of sepulchres and mighty emperors' bones; That's thought for me. Ven. So one may see by this How foreign markets go; Courtiers have feet o' the nines, and tongues o' the twelves; They flatter dukes, and dukes flatter themselves. [Aside. 2nd Noble. My lord, it is your shine must comfort us. Lus. Alas! I shine in tears, like the sun in April. 1st Noble. You're now my lord's grace. Lus. My lord's grace! I perceive you'll have it so. 2nd Noble. 'Tis but your own. Lus. Then, Heavens, give me grace to be so! Ven. He prays well for himself. [Aside. 1st Noble. Madam, all sorrows Must run their circles into joys. No doubt but time Will make the murderer bring forth himself. Ven. He were an ass then, i' faith. [Aside. 1st Noble. In the mean season, Let us bethink the latest funeral honours Due to the duke's cold body. And withal, Calling to memory our new happiness Speed in his royal son: lords, gentlemen, Prepare for revels. Ven. Revels! [Aside. 1st Noble. Time hath several falls. Griefs lift up joys: feasts put down funerals. Lus. Come then, my lords, my favour's to you all. The duchess is suspected foully bent; I'll begin dukedom with her banishment. [Aside. [Exeunt Lussurioso, Duchess, and Nobles. Hip. Revels! Ven. Ay, that's the word: we are firm yet; Strike one strain more, and then we crown our wit. [Exeunt Vendice and Hippolito. Spu. Well, have at the fairest mark—so said the duke when he begot me; And if I miss his heart, or near about, Then have at any; a bastard scorns to be out. [Exit.

Sup. Notest thou that Spurio, brother?

Ant. Yes, I note him to our shame.

Sup. He shall not live: his hair shall not grow much longer. In this time of revels, tricks may be set afoot. Seest thou yon new moon? it shall outlive the new duke by much; this hand shall dispossess him. Then we're mighty. A mask is treason's licence, that build upon: 'Tis murder's best face, when a vizard's on. [Exit. Amb. Is't so? 'tis very good! And do you think to be duke then, kind brother? I'll see fair play; drop one, and there lies t'other. [Exit.