Than the pope's palace, and more peaceable Know this, and let it somewhat raise your spight, Our author is not, in general, either felicitous or hearty in his legal pleadings; indeed, nothing can be more wretched than the stuff he puts into the mouths of his lawyers, both in this play and in The Devil's Law-Case. The preceding passage, however, is as fine a piece of ingenious pleading as the defence of that refined sophist, Eugene Aram. Vittoria is too much for the Cardinal, with all his cunning, and the advantage of his station to boot: yet, her answers are so pertinent, and her appeals so natural, that we never for a moment doubt the probability and consistency of the scene. She is truly a woman of a most prodigious spirit." Her confidence and fearlessness, her dextrous retreats, and ready ingenuity at every turn, spread over the whole a very lively and dramatic air. In the last extract we shall make from this play, there is solemn grief-a wild pathos, which accords well with the subject. Flamineo having slain Marcello, his gallant and honourable brother, Cornelia, their mother, becomes distracted in mind. "Francisco de Medicis in disguise, and Flamineo. Degraded courtier. Fra. 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 grandames, 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 over-charg'd with water. Fla. I will see them. Fra. "Twere much uncharity in you: for your sight Will add unto their tears. Fla. I will see them, They are behind the traverse. I'll discover Their superstitious howling. Cornelia, the Moor, and three other ladies discovered winding Marcello's corse. A song. Cor. This rosemary is wither'd, pray get fresh ; I would have these herbs grow up in his grave, When I am dead and rotten. Reach the bays; "Twill keep my boy from lightning. This sheet Moor. Look you, who are yonder? Cor. O reach me the flowers. Wom. Alas! her grief Hath turn'd her child again. Cor. You're very welcome. There's rosemary for you, and rue for you. Heart's-ease for you. I pray make much of it, I have left none for myself. Fra. Lady, who's this? Cor. You are, I take it, the grave-maker. Fla. So. Moor. 'Tis Flamineo. [to Flam. Cor. Will you make me such a fool? here's a white hand: Can blood so soon be wash'd out? let me see, When screech-owls croak upon the chimney tops, And the strange cricket i'th' oven sings and hops, Be certain then you of a corpse shall hear. Out upon't, how 'tis speckl'd! h'as handl'd a toad sure. of't. Fla. 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, to sing o'er unto her lute. Cornelia doth this in several forms of distraction. Cor. Call for the robin red-breast, and the wren, Since o'er shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole, To raise him hillocks that shall keep him warm, The next of Webster's Plays in chronological order is The Devil's Law-Case, which is, upon the whole, a tolerable play, and would afford us a few extracts; but as they are not of the same rank or importance with those we shall make from his two remaining plays, and as, moreover, any extracts from it would carry us beyond the limit assigned to this article, we must pass on to The Dutchess of Malfy. There is not much of plot in the tragedy; the chief incidents in which are as follows: The widowed Dutchess of Malfy, eminent in beauty and excellent in virtue, secretly marries Antonio her steward, an accomplished and brave gentleman, by whom she has three children. Her brothers, Ferdinand and the Cardinal, who had, from motives of avarice and ambition, used both threats and persuasions to prevent her marrying again, are informed by Bosola, their creature, of the birth of the children; but he is unable to communicate to them the name of the father. The brothers resolve to punish the Dutchess for the pretended indignity done to their house, with the most ferocious vengeance. The Dutchess, apprehensive of injury from the well-known violence of Ferdinand, under pretence of a pilgrimage, flies to Ancona, where she is seized with two of her children by the followers of her brothers, and is brought back to Malfy; Antonio, at her request, having taken a different route with the remaining child. The first and chief scene in the drama, is the one in which the Dutchess is subjected to the most excruciating mental tortures; which commences thus: "Ferdinand, Bosola, Dutchess, Cariola, Servants. "Fer. How doth our sister dutchess bear herself In her imprisonment? Bos. Nobly: I'll describe her: She's sad as one us'd to't, and she seems Than shun it; a behaviour so noble, As gives a majesty to adversity: You may discern the shape of loveliness More perfect in her tears, than in her smiles; She will muse for hours together; and her silence (Methinks) expresseth more than if she spake. Fer. Her melancholy seems to be fortified with a strange disdain. Bos. "Tis so; and this restraint (Like English mastiffs that grow fierce with tying) Makes her too passionately apprehend those pleasures she's kept from. Fer. Curse upon her! I will no longer study in the book Of another's heart; inform her what I told you. The Dutchess, Bosola. Bos. All comfort to your grace. Dutch. I will have none: Pray thee, why dost thou wrap thy poison'd pills Bos. Your eldest brother, the Lord Ferdinand, Dutch. At his pleasure. Take hence the lights, he's come. Dutch. Here, sir. Fer. This darkness suits you well. Fer. You have it; For I account it the honorabl'st revenge, Where I may kill, to pardon: where are your cubs ? Dutch. Whom? Fer. Call them your children; For though our national law distinguish bastards From true legitimate issue, compassionate nature Dutch. Do you visit me for this? You violate a sacrament o'th' church Fer. It had been well, Could you have liv'd thus always; for indeed I come to seal my peace with you: here's a hand [exeunt. [gives her a dead man's hand. To which you have vow'd much love; the ring upon't You gave. Dutch. I affectionately kiss it. Fer. Pray do; and bury the print of it in your heart. Send it to him that own'd it: : you shall see Whether he can aid you. Dutch. You are very cold, I fear you are not well after your travel: Fer. Let her have lights enough. [exit. Dutch. What witchcraft doth he practise, that he hath left A dead man's hand here? [here is discovered the artificial figures of Antonio and his children, appearing as if they were dead. Bos. Look you, here's the piece from which it was ta'en; That now you know directly they are dead. Dutch. There is not, between heav'n and earth, one wish Than were't my picture, fashion'd out of wax, Stuck with a magical needle, and then buried In some foul dung-hill; and yond's an excellent property Bos. What's that? Dutch. If they would bind me to that liveless trunk, And let me freeze to death. Bos. Come, you must live. Dutch. That's the greatest torture souls feel in hell; In hell that they must live, and cannot die : And revive the rare, and almost dead example Bos. O fie, despair! remember You are a Christian. Dutch. The church enjoins fasting; I'll starve myself to death. Bos. Leave this vain sorrow; Things being at the worst, begin to mend; The bee, when he hath shot his sting into your hand, Dutch. Good comfortable fellow, Persuade a wretch that's broke upon the wheel For I do play a part in't 'gainst my will. Bos. Come, be of comfort, I will save your life. |