There's nothing of so infinite vexation As man's own thoughts. Lod. O thou glorious strumpet! Could I divide thy breath from this pure air Vit. Cor. You my death's-man! Methinks thou dost not look horrid enough; Fall down upon thy knees, and ask forgiveness. Lod. Q! thou hast been a most prodigious comet; But I'll cut off your train: kill the Moor first. Vit. Cor. You shall not kill her first; behold my breast; I will be waited on in death: my servant Shall never go before me. Gasp. Are you so brave? Vit. Cor. Yes, I shall welcome death As princes do some great embassadours; I'll meet thy weapon half way. Lod. Thou dost not tremble! Methinks, fear should dissolve thee into air. Vit. Cor. O, thou art deceiv'd, I am too true a woman! Conceit can never kill me. I'll tell thee what, I will not in my death shed one base tear; Or if look pale, for want of blood, not fear. Gasp. (To Zanche). Thou art my task, black fury. As red as either of theirs! Wilt drink some? "Tis good for the falling-sickness: I am proud Death cannot alter my complexion, For I shall ne'er look pale. Lod. Strike, strike, With a joint motion. Vit. Cor. 'Twas a manly blow: The next thou giv'st, murther some sucking infant, Such are some of the terrible graces of the obscure, forgotten Webster. There are other parts of this play of a less violent, more subdued, and, if it were possible, even deeper character; such is the declaration of divorce pronounced by Brachiano on his wife: "Your hand I'll kiss: This is the latest ceremony of my love; which is in the manner of, and equal to, Deckar's finest things-and others, in a quite different style of fanciful poetry and bewildered passion; such as the lamentation of Cornelia, his mother, for the death of Marcello, and the parting scene of Brachiano; which would be as fine as Shakespear, if they were not in a great measure borrowed from his inexhaustible store. In the former, after Flamineo has stabbed his brother, and Hortensio comes in, Cornelia exclaims, "Alas! he is not dead; he's in a trance. Why, here's nobody shall get any thing by his death: Hor. I would you were deceiv'd. Corn. O you abuse me, you abuse me, you abuse me! How many have gone away thus, for want of 'tendance? Rear up's head, rear up's head; his bleeding inward will kill him. K Hor. You see he is departed. Corn. Let me come to him; give me him as he is. If he be turn'd to earth, let me but give him one hearty kiss, and you shall put us both into one coffin. Fetch a looking-glass: see if his breath will not stain it; or pull out some feathers from my pillow, and lay them to his lips. Will you lose him for a little pains-taking? Hor. Your kindest office is to pray for him. Corn. Alas! I would not pray for him yet. He may live to lay me i' th' ground, and pray for me, if you'll let me come to him. Enter Brachiano, all armed, save the Bearer, with Flamineo and Page. Brach. Was this your handy-work? Corn. He lies, he lies; he did not kill him. These have killed him, that would not let him be better looked to. I Brach. Have comfort, my griev'd mother. Corn. O, you screech-owl! Hor. Forbear, good madam. Corn. Let me go, let me go. (She runs to Flamineo with her knife drawn, and The God of Heav'n forgive thee! Dost not wonder Brach. Mother, pray tell me, How came he by his death? What was the quarrel? Corn. Indeed, my younger boy presum❜d too much Upon his manhood, gave him bitter words, Drew his sword first; and so, I know not how, For I was out of my wits, he fell with's head Page. This is not true, madam. Corn. I pr'ythee, peace. One arrow's graz'd already: it were vain To lose this; for that will ne'er be found again." This is a good deal borrowed from Lear; but the inmost folds of the human heart, the sudden turns and windings of the fondest affection, are also laid open with so masterly and original a hand, that it seems to prove the occasional imitations as unnecessary as they are evident. The scene where the Duke discovers that he is poisoned, is as follows, and equally fine. "Brach. Oh! I am gone already. The infection Flies to the brain and heart. O, thou strong heart, There's such a covenant 'tween the world and thee, They're loth to part. Giovanni. O my most lov'd father! Brach. Remove the boy away: Where's this good woman? Had I infinite worlds, They were too little for thee. Must I leave thee? (To Vittoria). What say you, screech-owls. (To the Physicians) Is the venom mortal? Phy. Most deadly. Brach. Most corrupted politic hangman! You kill without book; but your art to save Fails you as oft as great men's needy friends: Do not kiss me, for I shall poison thee. This unction is sent from the great Duke of Florence. Francesco de Medici (in disguise). Sir, be of comfort. Vit. Cor. I am lost for ever. Brach. How miserable a thing it is to die 'Mongst women howling! What are those? Flam. Fransiscans. They have brought the extreme unction. Brach. On pain of death let no man name death to me: It is a word most infinitely terrible. Withdraw into our cabinet." The deception practised upon him by Lodovico and Gasparo, who offer him the sacrament in the disguise of Monks, and then discover themselves to damn him, is truly diabolical and ghastly. But the genius that suggested it was as profound as it was lofty. When they are at first introduced, Flamineo says, "See, see how firmly he doth fix his eye |