_Enter_ FLAMINEO _and_ GASPARO, _at one door; another way_, GIOVANNI,
_attended._
_Gas._ The young duke: did you e'er see a sweeter prince?
_Flam._ I have known a poor woman's bastard better favoured; this is
behind him; now, to his face, all comparisons were hateful. Wise was
the courtly peacock that, being a great minion, and being compared
for beauty by some dottrels,[86] that stood by, to the kingly eagle,
said the eagle was a far fairer bird than herself, not in respect of
her feathers, but in respect of her long talons: his will grow out in
time.--My gracious lord!
_Gio._ I pray, leave me, sir.
_Flam._ Your grace must be merry: 'tis I have cause to mourn; for, wot
you, what said the little boy that rode behind his father on horseback?
_Gio._ Why, what said he?
_Flam._ "When you are dead, father," said he, "I hope that I shall ride
in the saddle." O, 'tis a brave thing for a man to sit by himself! he
may stretch himself in the stirrups, look about, and see the whole
compass of the hemisphere. You're now, my lord, i' the saddle.
_Gio._ Study your prayers, sir, and be penitent:
'Twere fit you'd think on what hath former bin;
I have heard grief named the eldest child of sin.
[_Exit._
_Flam._ Study my prayers! he threatens me divinely:
I am falling to pieces already. I care not though, like Anacharsis, I
were pounded to death in a mortar: and yet that death were fitter for
usurers, gold and themselves to be beaten together, to make a most
cordial cullis[87] for the devil.
He hath his uncle's villainous look already,
_In decimo sexto._
_Enter_ Courtier.
Now, sir, what are you?
_Cour._ It is the pleasure, sir, of the young duke,
That you forbear the presence, and all rooms
That owe him reverence.
_Flam._ So, the wolf and the raven
Are very pretty fools when they are young.
Is it your office, sir, to keep me out?
_Cour._ So the duke wills.
_Flam._ Verily, master courtier, extremity is not to be used in all
offices: say that a gentlewoman were taken out of her bed about
midnight, and committed to Castle Angelo, or to the tower yonder, with
nothing about her but her smock, would it not show a cruel part in the
gentleman-porter to lay claim to her upper garment, pull it o'er her
head and ears, and put her in naked?
_Cour._ Very good: you are merry. [_Exit._
_Flam._ Doth he make a court-ejectment of me? a flaming fire-brand
casts more smoke without a chimney than within't. I'll smoor[88] some
of them.
_Enter_ FRANCISCO DE MEDICIS.
How now! thou art sad.
_Fran. de Med._ I met even now with the most piteous sight.
_Flam._ Thou meet'st another here, a pitiful
Degraded courtier.
_Fran. de Med._ Your reverend mother
Is grown a very old woman in two hours.
I found them winding of Marcello's corse;
And there is such a solemn melody,
'Tween doleful songs, tears, and sad elegies,--
Such as old grandams watching by the dead
Were wont to outwear the nights with,--that, believe me,
I had no eyes to guide me forth the room,
They were so o'ercharged with water.
_Flam._ I will see them.
_Fran. de Med._ 'Twere much uncharity in you; for your sight
Will add unto their tears.
_Flam._ I will see them:
They are behind the traverse;[89] I'll discover
Their superstitious howling. [_Draws the Curtain._
CORNELIA, ZANCHE, _and three other_ Ladies _discovered winding_
MARCELLO'S _corse. A Song._
_Cor._ This rosemary is withered; pray, get fresh.
I would have these herbs grow up in his grave,
When I am dead and rotten. Reach the bays,
I'll tie a garland here about his head;
'Twill keep my boy from lightning. This sheet
I have kept this twenty year, and every day
Hallowed it with my prayers: I did not think
He should have wore it.
_Zanche._ Look you who are yonder.
_Cor._ O, reach me the flowers.
_Zanche._ Her ladyship's foolish.
_Lady._ Alas, her grief
Hath turned her child again!
_Cor._ You're very welcome:
There's rosemary for you;--and rue for you;--
[_To_ FLAMINEO.
Heart's-ease for you; I pray make much of it:
I have left more for myself.
_Fran. de Med._ Lady, who's this?
_Cor._ You are, I take it, the grave-maker.
_Flam._ So.
_Zanche._ 'Tis Flamineo.
_Cor._ Will you make me such a fool? here's a white hand:
Can blood so soon be washed out? let me see;
When screech-owls croak upon the chimney-tops,
And the strange cricket i' the oven sings and hops,
When yellow spots do on your hands appear,
Be certain then you of a corse shall hear.
Out upon't, how 'tis speckled! h'as handled a toad, sure.
Cowslip-water is good for the memory:
Pray, buy me three ounces of't.
_Flam._ I would I were from hence.
_Cor._ Do you hear, sir?
I'll give you a saying which my grandmother
Was wont, when she heard the bell toll, to sing o'er
Unto her lute.
_Flam._ Do, an you will, do.
_Cor._ "Call for the robin-red-breast and the wren,
[CORNELIA _doth this in several forms of distraction._
Since o'er shady groves they hover,
And with leaves and flowers do cover
The friendless bodies of unburied men.
Call unto his funeral dole
The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole,
To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm,
And (when gay tombs are robbed) sustain no harm:
But keep the wolf far thence, that's foe to men,
For with his nails he'll dig them up again."[90]
They would not bury him 'cause he died in a quarrel;
But I have an answer for them:
"Let holy church receive him duly,
Since he paid the church-tithes truly."
His wealth is summed, and this is all his store,
This poor men get, and great men get no more.
Now the wares are gone, we may shut up shop.
Bless you all, good people.
[_Exeunt_ CORNELIA, ZANCHE, _and_ Ladies.
_Flam._ I have a strange thing in me, to the which
I cannot give a name, without it be
Compassion. I pray, leave me.
[_Exit_ FRANCISCO DE MEDICIS.
This night I'll know the utmost of my fate;
I'll be resolved[91] what my rich sister means
To assign me for my service. I have lived
Riotously ill, like some that live in court,
And sometimes when my face was full of smiles,
Have felt the maze of conscience in my breast.
Oft gay and honoured robes those tortures try:
We think caged birds sing, when indeed they cry.
_Enter_ BRACHIANO'S _ghost, in his leather cassock and breeches, boots
and cowl; in his hand a pot of lily-flowers, with a skull in it._
Ha! I can stand thee: nearer, nearer yet.
What a mockery hath death made thee! thou look'st sad.
In what place art thou? in yon starry gallery?
Or in the cursèd dungeon?--No? not speak?
Pray, sir, resolve me, what religion's best
For a man to die in? or is it in your knowledge
To answer me how long I have to live?
That's the most necessary question:
Not answer? are you still like some great men
That only walk like shadows up and down,
And to no purpose? say:--
[_The_ Ghost _throws earth upon him, and shows him the skull._
What's that? O, fatal! he throws earth upon me!
A dead man's skull beneath the roots of flowers!--
I pray, speak, sir: our Italian churchmen
Make us believe dead men hold conference
With their familiars, and many times
Will come to bed to them, and eat with them.
[_Exit_ Ghost.
He's gone; and see, the skull and earth are vanished.
This is beyond melancholy. I do dare my fate
To do its worst. Now to my sister's lodging,
And sum up all these horrors: the disgrace
The prince threw on me; next the piteous sight
Of my dead brother; and my mother's dotage;
And last this terrible vision: all these
Shall with Vittoria's bounty turn to good.
Or I will drown this weapon in her blood. [_Exit._