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Of ten set battles in your highness' war
'Gainst the sole soldier of the world Navarre.
Guise. O piteous and horrid murder!
Beaupre. Such a life

Methinks had metal in it to survive
An age of men.

Henry. Such often soonest end.

Thy felt report calls on; we long to know
On what events the other have arrived.

In my young travels through Armenia,
An angry Unicorn in his full career
Charge with too swift a foot a Jeweller
That watcht him for the treasure of his brow,
And, ere he could get shelter of a tree,
Nail him with his rich antler to the earth:
So D'Ambois ran upon reveng'd L'Anou;
Who eyeing th' eager point borne in his face,
And giving back, fell back, and in his fall
His foes uncurbed sword stopt in his heart:

Nuntius. Sorrow and fury, like two oppo- By which time, all the life-strings of th' two other

site fumes

Met in the upper region of a cloud,

At the report made by this worthy's fall,

Were cut, and both fell (as their spirit flew)
Upwards: and still hunt honour at the view.
And now, of all the six, sole D'Ambois stood

Brake from the earth, and with them rose Re- Untoucht, save only with the others blood.

venge,

Ent'ring with fresh pow'rs his two noble friends:
And under that odds fell surcharg'd Brisac;
The friend of D'Ambois, before fierce L'Anou;
Which D'Ambois seeing: as I once did see

Henry. All slain outright but he? Nuntius. All slain outright but he: Who kneeling in the warm life of his friends |(All freckled with the blood his rapier rain'd) He kist their pale lips, and bade both farewell.

John Webster.

Ein Zeitgenosse Ben Jonson's und Nachahmer Shakspeare's; er blühte um 1612-1623 und hat drei Tragödien und eine Tragi-komödie hinterlassen, die er allein und zwei Komödien, die er in Verbindung mit W. Stowley verfasst hat. Seine beiden bedeutendsten Leistungen sind: The white Devil und the Duchess of Malfy. In beiden beurkundet er seltene jedoch oft excentrische dramatische Kraft.

Scenes from

The white Devil: or, Vittoria Corombona, A Lady of Venice. A Tragedy. By John Webster.

The arraignment of Vittoria. Paulo Giordano Ursini, Duke of Brachiano, for the love of Vittoria Corombona, a Venetian Lady, and at her suggestion, causes her Husband Camillo to be murdered. Suspicion falls upon Vittoria, who is tried at Rome, on à double Charge of Murder and incontinence in the presence of Cardinal Monticelso, Cousin to the deseased Camillo; Francisco de Medicis, Brother in Law to Brachiano; the Ambassadors of France, Spain, England, etc. As the arraignment is beginning the Duke confidently enters the Court. Mon. Forbear, my Lord, here is no place assign'd you: This business, by his holiness, is left

To our examination.

Bra May it thrive with you.

Fra. A chair there for his lordship.

(Lays a rich gown under him.) Bra. Forbear your kindness; an unbidden guest

Should travel as Dutch women go to church,
Bear their stool with them.

Mon. At your pleasure, Sir.
Stand to the table, gentlewoman - Now, Signior,
Fall to your plea.

Lawyer. Domine judex converte oculos in hanc pestem mulierum corruptissimam. Vit. What's he?

Fra. A lawyer, that pleads against you. Vit. Pray, my Lord, let him speak his usual tongue,

I'll make no answer else.

Fra. Why, you understand Latin.

Vit. I do, Sir, but amongst this auditory

Which come to hear my cause, the half or more

May be ignorant in 't.
Mon. Go on, Sir.

Vit. By your favor,

I will not have my accusation clouded
In a strange tongue: all this assembly
Shall hear what you can charge me with.
Fra. Signior,

You need not stand on't much; pray, change

your language.

Mon. Oh, for God's sake! gentlewoman, your credit

Shall be more famous by it.

Law. Well then have at you.

Vit. I am the mark, Sir, I'll give aim to you,

And tell you how near you shoot.

Law.

Mon. I must spare you, till proof cry whore
to that.

Observe this creature here, my honor'd Lords,
A woman of a most prodigious spirit.
Vit. My honorable Lord,

It doth not suit a reverend Cardinal
To play the Lawyer thus.

Mon. O your trade instructs your language.
You see, my Lords, what goodly fruit she seems,
Yet like those apples travellers report

To grow where Sodom and Gomorrah stood,
I will but touch her, and you straight shall see
She's fall to soot and ashes.

Vit. Your invenom'd apothecary should do't.
Mon. I am resolved,

Most literated judges, please your Were there a second paradise to lose,

lordships

So to connive your judgments to the view
Of this debauch'd and diversivolent woman;
Who such a concatenation

Of mischief hath effected, that to extirp
The memory of it, must be the consummation
Of her, and her projections.

Vit. What's all this?

Law. Hold your peace!

Exorbitant sins must have exulceration.

This devil would betray it.

Vit. O poor charity,

Thou art seldom found in scarlet.

Mon. Who knows not how, when several night by night

Her gates were choakt with coaches, and her

rooms

Outbrav'd the stars with several kinds of lights;
When she did counterfeit a Prince's court
In musick, banquets, and most riotous surfeits;

Vit. Surely, my Lords, this lawyer hath swal-This whore forsooth was holy.

lowed

Some apothecaries bills, or proclamations;
And now the hard and undigestible words
Come up like stones we use give hawks
physic.

Why, this is Welch to Latin.

Law. My Lords, the woman

Knows not her tropes, nor is perfect

In the academick derivation

Of grammatical elocution.

Fra. Sir, your pains

Shall be well spared and your deep eloquence

Be worthily applauded among those

Which understand you.

Law. My good Lord.

Fra. Sir,

Put up your papers in your fustian bag;
(Francisco speaks this as in scorn).
Cry mercy, Sir, 'tis buckram, and accept
My notion of your learn'd verbosity.
Law. I most graduatically thank your
ship;

Vit. Ha! whore? what's that?

Mon. Shall I expound whore to you? sure
I shall.

for I'll give their perfect character. They are first,
Sweetmeats which rot the eater: In man's

nostrils

Poison'd perfumes. They are cozening alchymy;
Shipwrecks in calmest weather. What are

whores?

Cold Russian winters, that appear so barren,
As if that nature had forgot the spring
They are the true material fire of hell.
Worse than those tributes i' th' low countries

paid,

Exactions upon meat, drink, garments, sleep:
Ay even on man's perdition, his sin.
They are those brittle evidences of law,
Which forfeit all a wretched man's estate
For leaving out one syllable. What are whores?
They are those flattering bells have all one tune,
lord-At weddings and at funerals. Your rich whores
Are only treasuries by extortion fill'd,
And empty'd by curs'd riot. They are worse,
Worse than dead bodies, which are begg'd at th'
gallows,

I shall have use for them elsewhere.
Mon. (to Vittoria) I shall be plainer with
you, and paint out

Your follies in more natural red and white,
Than that upon your cheek.

Vit. O you mistake,

You raise a blood as noble in this cheek
As ever was your mother's.

And wrought upon by surgeons, to teach man
Wherein he is imperfect. What's a whore?

She's like the guilt counterfeited coin,
Which whosoe'er first stamps it, brings in
trouble

All that receive it.

Vit. This character 'scapes me.

Mon. You, gentlewoman?

Take from all beasts and from all minerals
Their deadly poison

Vit. Well, what then?

Mon. I'll tell thee;

I'll find in thee an apothecary's shop,
To sample them all.

Fr. Emb. She hath lived ill.

En. Emb. True, but the Cardinal's too bitter. Mon. You know what whore is. Next the devil adultr'y,

Enters the devil murder.

Fra. Your unhappy husband Is dead.

Vit. O he's a happy husband,
Now he owes Nature nothing.

Fra. And by a vaulting engine.
Mon. An active plot:

He jumpt into his grave.

Fra. What a prodigy was't,

That from some two yards high, a slender man Should break his neck?

Mon. I' th' rushes?

Fra. And what's more,

Upon the instant lose allure of speech,

All vital motion, like a man had lain

Wound up three days. Now mark each circum

stance.

Mon. Well, well, such counterfeit jewels Make true ones oft suspected.

Vit. You are deceived;

For knew, that all your strict combined heads,
Which strike against this mine of diamonds,
Shall prove but glassen hammers, they shall
break.

These are but feigned shadows of my evils.
Terrify babes, my Lord, with painted devils;

I am past such needless palsy. For your names
Of whore and murdress, they proceed from you,
As if a man should spit against the wind;
The filth returns in's face.

Mon. Pray you mistress, satisfy me one question.

Who lodg'd beneath your roof that fatal night
Your husband brake his neck?

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Bra. And 'twas strangely fear'd

That you would cozen her.

Mon. Who made you overseer?

Bra. Why, my charity, my charity, which should flow

Mon. And look upon this creature was his From every generous and noble spirit,

wife,

She comes not like a widow: she comes arm'd

With scorn and impudence: is this a mourning

habit?

To orphans and to widows.

Mon. Your lust.

Bra. Cowardly dogs bark loudest! sirrah, priest,

Vit. Had I foreknown his death as you I'll take with you hereafter. Do you hear?

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The sword you frame of thy coat resemble Your common post-boys.

Mon. Ha!

Bra. Your mercenary post-boys.

Your letters carry truth, but 'tis your guise

To fill your mouths with gross and impudent lies.

Servant. My Lord, your gown.

Bra. Thou liest, 'twas my stool.
Bestow't upon thy master, that will challenge
The rest o' th' household-stuff, for Brachiano
Was ne'er so beggarly to take a stool
Out of another's lodging: let him make
Vallance for his bed on't, or demy foot-cloth
For his most reverend moile. Monticelso, nemo
meimpune lacessit.
(Exit Brachiano.)

Mon. Your champion's gone.
Vit. The wolf may pray the better.
Fra. My Lord, there's great suspicion of the
murder,

But no sound proof who did it. For my part,
I do not think she hath a soul so black
To act a deed so bloody: if she have,

'Twas interest for his lust. Vit. Who says so but yourself? if you be my

accuser,

As in cold countries husband-men plant vines,
And with warm blood manure them, even so
One summer she will bear unsavory fruit,
And e'er next spring wither both branch and Be moderators. My Lord Cardinal,

Pray cease to be my judge; come from the
bench,

root.

The act of blood let pass, only descend

To matter of incontinence.

Vit. I discern poison

Under your gilded pills.

Give in your evidence against me, and let these

Were your intelligencing ears as loving,

As to my thoughts, had you an honest tongue,

I would not care though you proclaim'd them all.
Mon. Go to, go to.

After your goodly and vain-glorious banquet

Mon. Now the Duke's gone I will produce I'll give you a choak-pear.

a letter,

Wherein 'twas plotted, he and you shall meet,
At an apothecary's summer-house,
Down by the river Tiber. View't, my Lords:
Where after wanton bathing and the heat
Of a lascivious banquet I pray read it.
I shame to speak the rest.

Vit. Grant I was tempted;
Temptation proves not the act:
Casta est quam nemo rogavit.

You read his hot love to me, but you want
My frosty answer.

Mon. Frost i' th' dog-days! strange.

Vit. Of your own grafting?

Mon. You were born in Venice, honorably descended

From the Vittelli; 'twas my cousin's fate,
Ill may I name the hour, to marry you;
He bought you of your father.

Vit. Ha!

Mon. He spent there in six months Twelve thousand ducats, and (to my knewledge) Receiv'd in dowry with you not one julio. 'Twas a hard penny-worth, the ware being so

light.

I yet but draw the curtain, now to your picture:

Vit. Condemn you me for that the Duke You came from thence a most notorious strumpet,

did love me?

So may you blame some fair and chrystal river

For that some melancholic distracted man
Hath drown'd himself in't.

Mon. Truly drown'd, indeed.

And so you have continued.

Vit. My Lord!

Mon. Nay hear me

You shall have time to prate. My Lord Brachiano -
Alas! I make but repetition,

Vit. Sum up my faults. I pray, and you Of what is ordinary and Ryalto talk,

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And ballated, and would be plaid o' th' stage
But that vice many times finds such loud friends,
That preachers are charm'd silent.
Your public fault,

Joyn'd to th' condition of the present time,
Takes from you all the fruits of noble pity,
Such a corrupted trial have you made
Both of your life and beauty, and been styl'd
No less an ominous fate, than blazing stars
To Princes. Hear your sentence; you are confin'd
Unto a house of converts.

Vit. A house of converts! what's that?
Mon. A house of penitent whores.

Vit. Do the Noblemen in Rome
Erect it for their wives, that I am sent
To lodge there?

Fra. You must have patience.

Vit. I must first have vengeance.

I fain would know if you have your salvation
By patent, that you proceed thus.

Mon. Away with her,

Take her hence.

Vit. A rape! a rape!
Mon. How?

Vit. Yes, you have ravish'd justice;

Fore'd her to do your pleasure.

Mon. Fie, she's mad!

For since you cannot take my life for deeds,
Take it for words: O woman's poor revenge!
Which dwells but in the tongue. I will not weep.

Vit. Die with those pills in your most cursed No; I do scorn to call up one poor tear

maw,

Should bring you health! or while you sit o' th' Unto this house of what's your mitigating title?

bench,

Let your own spittle choak you!

Mon. She's turn'd fury.

find you,

Mon. Of converts.

To fawn on your injustice: bear me hence

Vit. It shall not be a house of converts; My mind shall make it honester to me

Vit. That the last day of judgment may so Than the Pope's palace, and more peaceable Than thy soul, though thou art a Cardinal; And leave you the same Devil you were before! Know this, and let it somewhat raise your spight, Instruct me some good horse-leach to speak Through darkness diamonds spread their richest

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Richard Corbet ward 1582 in dem Dorfe Ewell in Surrey geboren, erhielt eine wissenschaftliche Bildung in Westminster und Oxford und trat dann in den geistlichen Stand. Durch seine Rednergabe erwarb er sich die Gunst Jakobs I., in Folge deren er 1629 Bischof von Oxford und 1632 von Norwich ward. Er starb im Juli 1635.

Corbet war ein lustiger Mann, der sein Amt oft über seiner Lustigkeit vergass und daher allgemein der witzige Bischof genannt wurde (wittee Bishop Corbet), seinen Witz aber nie missbrauchte, um Jemanden wehe zu thun.

Seine poetischen Werke erschienen zuerst gesammelt im Jahre 1647 und wurden dann 1672 wieder neu aufgelegt; später sind sie aber grösstentheils in Vergessenheit gerathen; sie enthalten vorzüglich Elegieen, Satyren und Lieder und athmen eine frische, lebendige Lustigkeit und gesunden Verstand, der über die Thorheiten der Menschen mit gutmüthigem Humor und herzlichem Mitleide spottet, in fliessender beseelter Ausdrucksweise. Viele derselben waren von dem Verfasser allerdings nicht für die Oeffentlichkeit bestimmt, sondern fanden erst später allgemeine Verbreitung; allerdings stimmen sie nicht immer recht zu seinem ernsten Berufe, doch findet sich auch Nichts darin, wodurch das Gefühl und die gute Sitte verletzt würden.

The Fairies Farewell.

Farewell rewards and Fairies!

Good housewives now you may say;

For now foule sluts in dairies,

Doe fare as well as they:

And though they sweepe their hearths no less

Than mayds were wont to doe, Yet who of late for cleaneliness Finds sixe-pence in her shoe?

Lament, lament old Abbies,

The fairies lost command;

They did but change priests babies,
But some have chang'd your land;

And all your children stoln from thence
Are now growne Puritanes,
Who live as changelings ever since,
For love of your demaines.

At morning and at evening both
You merry were and glad,

So little care of sleepe and sloth,
These prettie ladies had.
When Tom came home from labour,
Or Ciss to milking rose,

Then merrily went their toes.
And nimbly went their toes.

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