Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 10 of 10Fletcher, John
General
Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 10 of 10
Fletcher, John
English drama
_Duke._ Dar'st thou make up again, dar'st thou turn face, knowing
we know thee, hast thou not been discover'd openly? did not our
ears hear her deny thy courtings? did we not see her blush with
modest anger, to be so overtaken by a trick; can ye deny this Lord?
_Gond._ Had not your Grace, and her kind brother
Been within level of her eye,
You should have had a hotter volley from her,
More full of bloud and fire, ready to leap the window where she stood.
So truly sensual is her appetite.
_Duke._ Sir, Sir, these are but words and tricks, give me the proof.
_Count._ What need a better proof than your Lordship?
I am sure ye have lain with her my Lord.
_Gond._ I have confest it Sir.
_Duke._ I dare not give thee credit without witness.
_Gond._ Does your grace think we carry seconds with us, to search
us, and see fair play: your Grace hath been ill tutor'd in the
business; but if you hope to try her truly, and satisfy your self
what frailty is, give her the Test: do not remember Count she is
your Sister; nor let my Lord the Duke believe she is fair; but put
her to it without hope or pity, then ye shall see that golde[n]
form flie off, that all eyes wonder at for pure and fixt, and
under't base blushing Copper; metall not worth the meanest honor:
you shall behold her then my Lord transparent, look through her
heart, and view the spirits how they leap, and tell me then I did
belie the Lady.
_Duke._ It shall be done: come _Gondarino_ bear us company,
We do believe thee: she shall die, and thou shalt see it.
_Enter_ Lazarello, _two Intelligencers, and Guard_.
How now my friends, [whome] have you guarded hither?
_2 Int._ So please your Grace we have discover'd a villain and a
Traitor: the Lord _Lucio_ hath examin'd him, and sent him to your
Grace for Judgement.
_Count._ My Lord, I dare absolve him from all sin of Treason: I
know his most ambition is but a dish of meat; which he hath hunted
with so true a scent, that he deserveth the Collar not the Halter.
_Duke._ Why do they bring him thus bound up? the poor man had more
need [of] some warm meat, to comfort his cold stomach.
_Count._ Your Grace shall have the cause hereafter, when you [may]
laugh more freely:
But these are call'd Informers: men that live by Treason, as
Rat-catchers do by poison.
_Duke._ Would there were no heavier prodigies hung over us,
than this poor fellow, I durst redeem all perils ready to pour
themselves upon this State, with a cold Custard.
_Count._ Your Grace might do it without danger to your person.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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