70 So subtly together, that in speaking one word for his life,
We may make three for his death.
The craftiest pleader gets most gold for breath.
Supervacuo. Set on, I’ll not be far behind you, brother.
Duke. Is’t possible a son should be disobedient as far as the sword? It is the highest; he can go no farther.
Ambitioso. My gracious lord, take pity –
Duke. Pity, boys?
Ambitioso. Nay we’d be loath to move your grace too much;
We know the trespass is unpardonable,
80 Black, wicked, and unnatural,
Supervacuo. In a son, oh monstrous!
Ambitioso. Yet my lord,
A duke’s soft hand strokes the rough head of law,
And makes it lie smooth.
Duke. But my hand shall ne’er do’t.
Ambitioso. That as you please, my lord.
Supervacuo. We must needs confess,
Some father would have entered into hate
So deadly pointed, that before his eyes
90 He would have seen the execution sound
Without corrupted favour.
Ambitioso. But my lord,
Your grace may live the wonder of all times,
In pardoning that offence which never yet
Had face to beg a pardon.
Duke. Honey, how’s this?
Ambitioso. Forgive him, good my lord: he’s your own son,
And I must needs say ’twas the vildlier done.
Supervacuo. He’s the next heir: yet this true reason gathers,
100 None can possess that dispossess their fathers.
Be merciful –
Duke. [Aside] Here’s no stepmother’s wit;
I’ll try ’em both upon their love and hate.
Ambitioso. Be merciful – although –
Duke. You have prevailed.
My wrath like flaming wax hath spent itself.
I know ’twas but some peevish moon in him: go, let him be released.
Supervacuo. [Aside] ’Sfoot, how now brother?
Ambitioso. Your grace doth please to speak beside your spleen.
110 I would it were so happy.
Duke. Why, go release him.
Supervacuo. O my good lord, I know the fault’s too weighty,
And full of general loathing; too inhuman.
Rather by all men’s voices, worthy death.
Duke. ’Tis true too; here then, receive this signet. Doom shall pass.
Direct it to the judges: he shall die
Ere many days. Make haste.
Ambitioso. All speed that may be,
We could have wished his burden not so sore,
120 We knew your grace did but delay before. Exeunt.
Duke. Here’s envy with a poor thin cover o’er’t,
Like scarlet hid in lawn, easily spied through.
This their ambition by the mother’s side
Is dangerous, and for safety must be purged.
I will prevent their envies, for sure it was
But some mistaken fury in our son,
Which these aspiring boys would climb upon.
He shall be released suddenly. Enter Nobles.
1 Noble. Good morning to your grace.
130 Duke. Welcome, my lords.
2 Noble. Our knees shall take away the office of our feet for ever,
Unless your grace bestow a father’s eye
Upon the clouded fortunes of your son;
And in compassionate virtue grant him that
Which makes e’en mean men happy; liberty.
Duke. [Aside] How seriously their loves and honours woo
For that, which I am about to pray them to do.
Which, rise, my lords: your knees sign his release.
We freely pardon him.
140 1 Noble. We owe your grace much thanks, and he much duty.
Exeunt.
Duke. It well becomes that judge to nod at crimes,
That does commit greater himself and lives.
I may forgive a disobedient error,
That expect pardon for adultery
And in my old days am a youth in lust.
Many a beauty have I turned to poison
In the denial, covetous of all.
Age hot is like a monster to be seen:
My hairs are white, and yet my sins are green.
Act 3
Scene 1
Enter Ambitioso and Supervacuo.
Supervacuo. Brother, let my opinion sway you once.
I speak it for the best, to have him die
Surest and soonest. If the signet come
Unto the judge’s hands, why then his doom,
Will be deferred till sittings and court days:
Juries and further; faiths are bought and sold,
Oaths in these days are but the skin of gold.
Ambitioso. In troth, ’tis true too.
Supervacuo. Then let’s set by the judges
10 And fall to the officers. ’Tis but mistaking
The duke our father’s meaning, and where he named
‘Ere many days’, ’tis but forgetting that
And have him die i’th’morning.
Ambitioso. Excellent.
Then am I heir – duke in a minute!
Supervacuo. [Aside] Nay,
And he were once puffed out, here is a pin
Should quickly prick your bladder.
Ambitioso. Blest occasion!
20 He being packed, we’ll have some trick and wile
To wind our younger brother out of prison,
That lies in for the rape. The lady’s dead,
And people’s thoughts will soon be buried.
Supervacuo. We may with safety do’t, and live and feed:
The duchess’ sons are too proud to bleed.
Ambitioso. We are i’faith to say true: come let’s not linger.
I’ll to the officers, go you before,
And set an edge upon the executioner.
Supervacuo. let me alone to grind him. Exit.
30 Ambitioso. Meet: farewell.
I am next now. I rise just in that place,
Where thou’rt cut off. Upon thy neck, kind brother,
The falling of one head lifts up another. Exit.
Act 3
Scene 2
Enter with the Nobles, lussurioso from prison.
Lussurioso. My lords: I am so much indebted to your loves,
For this, O this delivery.
1 Noble. But our duties, my lord, unto the hopes that grow in you.
Lussurioso. If ere I live to be myself, I’ll thank you.
O liberty, thou sweet and heavenly dame;
But hell for prison is too mild a name. Exeunt.
Act 3
Scene 3
Enter Ambitioso and Supervacuo with Officers.
Ambitioso. Officers? Here’s the duke’s signet, your firm warrant,
Brings the command of present death along with it
Unto our brother, the duke’s son. We are sorry
That we are so unnaturally employed
In such an unkind office, fitter far
For enemies than brothers.
Supervacuo. But you know
The duke’s command must be obeyed.
1 Officer. It must and shall, my lord. This morning then,
10 So suddenly?
Ambitioso. Ay, alas poor – good – soul.
He must break fast betimes: the executioner
Stands ready to put forth his cowardly valour.
2 Officer. Already?
Supervacuo. Already i’faith. O sir, destruction hies,
And that is least impudent, soonest dies.
1 Officer. Troth, you say true my lord. We take our leaves,
Our office shall be sound; we’ll not delay
The third part of a minute.
20 Ambitioso. Therein you show
Yourselves good men
and upright officers.
Pray let him die as private as he may.
Do him that favour, for the gaping people
Will but trouble him at his prayers,
And make him curse, and swear, and so die black.
Will you be so far kind?
1 Officer. It shall be done, my lord.
Ambitioso. Why we do thank you, if we live to be,
You shall have a better office.
30 2 Officer. Your good lordship.
Supervacuo. Commend us to the scaffold in our tears.
1 Officer. We’ll weep and do your commendations.
Exeunt [Officers].
Ambitioso. Fine fools in office!
Supervacuo. Things fall out so fit.
Ambitioso. So happily, come brother: ere next clock,
His head will be made serve a bigger block. Exeunt.
Act 3
Scene 4
Enter in prison, Junior Brother.
Junior. Keeper. [Enter Keeper.]
Keeper. My lord.
Junior. No news lately from our brothers?
Are they unmindful of us?
Keeper. My lord, a messenger came newly in and brought this
from ’em. [Gives him a letter.]
Junior. Nothing but paper comforts?
I looked for my delivery before this,
Had they been worth their oaths. Prithee be from us.
[Exit.]
10 Now what you say forsooth: speak out I pray.
[Reads] Letter: ‘Brother be of good cheer,’ –
’Slid, it begins like a whore with good cheer –
‘Thou shalt not be long a prisoner.’
Not five and thirty year like a bankrupt, I think so.
‘We have thought upon a device to get thee out by a trick!’
By a trick, pox o’your trick, and it be so long a-playing.
‘And so rest comforted, be merry and expect it suddenly.’
Be merry? Hang merry; draw and quarter merry, I’ll be mad.
20 Is’t not strange that a man should lie in a whole month for a woman? Well, we shall see how sudden our brothers will be in their promise: I must expect still a trick! I shall not be long
a prisoner. [Enter Keeper.] How now, what news?
Keeper. Bad news, my lord: I am discharged of you.
Junior. Slave call’st thou that bad news? I thank you, brothers.
Keeper. My lord ’twill prove so: here come the officers
Into whose hands I must commit you. [Enter Officers.]
Junior. Ha, officers? what, why?
1 Officer. You must pardon us, my lord.
Our office must be sound: here is our warrant
30 The signet from the duke. You must straight suffer.
Junior. Suffer? I’ll suffer you to be gone; I’ll suffer you
To come no more; what would you have me suffer?
2 Officer. My lord, those words were better changed to prayers.
The time’s but brief with you: prepare to die.
Junior. Sure, ’tis not so.
3 Officer. It is too true, my lord.
Junior. I tell you ’tis not, for the duke my father
Deferred me till next sitting, and I look
E’en every minute, threescore times an hour.
40 For a release, a trick wrought by my brothers.
1 Officer. A trick, my lord? If you expect such comfort,
Your hope’s as fruitless as a barren woman.
Your brothers were the unhappy messengers
That brought this powerful token for your death.
Junior. My brothers? No, no!
2 Officer. ’Tis most true, my lord.
Junior. My brothers to bring a warrant for my death?
How strange this shows.
3 Officer. There’s no delaying time.
50 Junior. Desire ’em hither. Call ’em up, my brothers?
They shall deny it to your faces.
1 Officer. My lord,
They’re far enough by this, at least at court,
And this most strict command they left behind ’em.
When grief swum in their eyes they showed like brothers,
Brimful of heavy sorrow: but the duke
Must have his pleasure.
Junior. His pleasure?
1 Officer. These were their last words which my memory bears:
60 ‘Commend us to the scaffold in our tears.’
Junior. Pox! dry their tears, what should I do with tears?
I hate ’em worse than any citizen’s son
Can hate salt water. Here came a letter now,
New-bleeding from their pens, scarce stinted yet.
Would I’d been torn in pieces when I tore it!
Look, you officious whoresons! Words of comfort:
‘Not long a prisoner.’
1 Officer. It says true in that, sir, for you must suffer presently.
Junior. A villainous Duns upon the letter: knavish exposition!
70 Look you then here sir: ‘we’ll get you out by a trick’ says he.
2 Officer. That may hold too sir, for you know a trick is commonly four cards, which was meant by us four officers.
Junior. Worse and worse dealing.
1 Officer. The hour beckons us,
The headsman waits. lift up your eyes to heaven.
Junior. I thank you, faith: good pretty wholesome counsel.
I should look up to heaven as you said,
Whilst he behind me cozens me of my head:
Ay, that’s the trick.
80 3 Officer. You delay too long, my lord.
Junior. Stay, good authority’s bastards. Since I must
Through brothers’ perjury die, O let me venom
Their souls with curses.
1 Officer. Come, ’tis no time to curse.
Junior. Must I bleed then, without respect of sign? well –
My fault was sweet sport, which the world approves,
I die for that which every woman loves. Exeunt.
Act 3
Scene 5
Enter Vindice with Hippolito his brother.
Vindice. O sweet, delectable, rare, happy, ravishing!
Hippolito. Why, what’s the matter, brother?
Vindice. O, ’tis able to make a man spring up and knock his forehead
Against yon silver ceiling.
Hippolito. Prithee tell me,
Why may I not partake with you? You vowed once
To give me share to every tragic thought.
Vindice. By th’mass, I think I did too.
Then I’ll divide it to thee: the old duke,
10 Thinking my outward shape and inward heart
Are cut out of one piece – for he that prates his secrets,
His heart stands o’th’outside – hires me by price,
To greet him with a lady,
In some fit place, veiled from the eyes o’th’court,
Some darkened blushless angle, that is guilty
O’his forefather’s lusts, and great folks’ riots.
To which I easily, to maintain my shape,
Consented, and did wish his impudent grace
To meet her here in this unsunned lodge,
20 Wherein ’tis night at noon; and here the rather
Because, unto the torturing of his soul,
The bastard and the duchess have appointed
Their meeting too in this luxurious circle,
Which most afflicting sight will kill his eyes
Before we kill the rest of him.
Hippolito. ’Twill i’faith, most dreadfully digested:
I see not how you could have missed me, brother.
Vindice. True, but the violence of my joy forgot it.
Hippolito. Ay, but where’s that lady now?
30 Vindice. Oh, at that word
I’m lost again: you cannot find me yet.
I’m in a throng of happy apprehensions.
He’s s
uited for a lady. I have took care
For a delicious lip, a sparkling eye.
You shall be witness brother;
Be ready stand with your hat off. Exit.
Hippolito. Troth, I wonder what lady it should be?
Yet ’tis no wonder, now I think again,
To have a lady stoop to a duke, that stoops unto his men.
40 ’Tis common to be common through the world:
And there’s more private common shadowing vices,
Than those who are known both by their names and prices.
’Tis part of my allegiance to stand bare
To the duke’s concubine – and here she comes.
Enter Vindice, with the skull of his love dressed up in tires.
Vindice. Madam, his grace will not be absent long.
Secret? Ne’er doubt us, madam. ’Twill be worth
Three velvet gowns to your ladyship. Known?
Few ladies respect that. Disgrace? A poor thin shell;
’Tis the best grace you have to do it well.
50 I’ll save your hand that labour: I’ll unmask you.
Hippolito. Why brother, brother.
Vindice. Art thou beguiled now? Tut, a lady can
At such, all hid, beguile a wiser man.
Have I not fitted the old surfeiter
With a quaint piece of beauty? Age and bare bone
Are e’er allied in action. Here’s an eye
Able to tempt a great man – to serve God;
A pretty hanging lip, that has forgot now to dissemble –
Methinks this mouth should make a swearer tremble,
60 A drunkard clasp his teeth, and not undo ’em,
To suffer wet damnation to run through ’em.
Here’s a cheek keeps her colour: let the wind go whistle,
Spout rain, we fear thee not; be hot or cold,
All’s one with us; and is not he absurd,
Whose fortunes are upon their faces set,
That fear no other God but wind and wet?
Hippolito. Brother, y’have spoke that right.
Is this the form that living shone so bright?
Vindice. The very same.
70 And now methinks I could e’en chide myself,
For doting on her beauty, though her death
Shall be revenged after no common action.
Does the silkworm expend her yellow labours
For thee? For thee does she undo herself?
Are lordships sold to maintain ladyships
For the poor benefit of a bewitching minute?
Why does yon fellow falsify highways
And put his life between the judge’s lips.
To refine such a thing, keeps horse and men
Five Revenge Tragedies: The Spanish Tragedy, Hamlet, Antonio's Revenge, The Tragedy of Hoffman, The Revenger's Tragedy (Penguin Classics) Page 36