Flam. Right: you are the adamant shall draw her to you, though you keep distance off.
Cam. A philosophical reason.
Flam. Walk by her a' th' nobleman's fashion, and tell her you will lie with her at the end of the progress.
Cam. Vittoria, I cannot be induc'd, or as a man would say, incited----
Vit. To do what, sir?
Cam. To lie with you to-night. Your silkworm used to fast every third day, and the next following spins the better. To-morrow at night, I am for you.
Vit. You 'll spin a fair thread, trust to 't.
Flam. But do you hear, I shall have you steal to her chamber about midnight.
Cam. Do you think so? why look you, brother, because you shall not say I 'll gull you, take the key, lock me into the chamber, and say you shall be sure of me.
Flam. In troth I will; I 'll be your jailor once.
Cam. A pox on 't, as I am a Christian! tell me to-morrow how scurvily she takes my unkind parting.
Flam. I will.
Cam. Didst thou not mark the jest of the silkworm? Good-night; in faith, I will use this trick often.
Flam. Do, do, do. [Exit Camillo. So, now you are safe. Ha, ha, ha, thou entanglest thyself in thine own work like a silkworm. [Enter Brachiano.] Come, sister, darkness hides your blush. Women are like cursed dogs: civility keeps them tied all daytime, but they are let loose at midnight; then they do most good, or most mischief. My lord, my lord!
Zanche brings out a carpet, spreads it, and lays on it two fair cushions. Enter Cornelia listening, but unperceived.
Brach. Give credit: I could wish time would stand still, And never end this interview, this hour; But all delight doth itself soon'st devour. Let me into your bosom, happy lady, Pour out, instead of eloquence, my vows. Loose me not, madam, for if you forgo me, I am lost eternally.
Vit. Sir, in the way of pity, I wish you heart-whole.
Brach. You are a sweet physician.
Vit. Sure, sir, a loathed cruelty in ladies Is as to doctors many funerals: It takes away their credit.
Brach. Excellent creature! We call the cruel fair; what name for you That are so merciful?
Zan. See now they close.
Flam. Most happy union.
Corn. [Aside.] My fears are fall'n upon me: oh, my heart! My son the pander! now I find our house Sinking to ruin. Earthquakes leave behind, Where they have tyranniz'd, iron, or lead, or stone; But woe to ruin, violent lust leaves none.
Brach. What value is this jewel?
Vit. 'Tis the ornament of a weak fortune.
Brach. In sooth, I 'll have it; nay, I will but change My jewel for your jewel.
Flam. Excellent; His jewel for her jewel: well put in, duke.
Brach. Nay, let me see you wear it.
Vit. Here, sir?
Brach. Nay, lower, you shall wear my jewel lower.
Flam. That 's better: she must wear his jewel lower.
Vit. To pass away the time, I 'll tell your grace A dream I had last night.
Brach. Most wishedly.
Vit. A foolish idle dream: Methought I walked about the mid of night Into a churchyard, where a goodly yew-tree Spread her large root in ground: under that yew, As I sat sadly leaning on a grave, Chequer'd with cross-sticks, there came stealing in Your duchess and my husband; one of them A pickaxe bore, th' other a rusty spade, And in rough terms they 'gan to challenge me About this yew.
Brach. That tree?
Vit. This harmless yew; They told me my intent was to root up That well-grown yew, and plant i' the stead of it A wither'd blackthorn; and for that they vow'd To bury me alive. My husband straight With pickaxe 'gan to dig, and your fell duchess With shovel, like a fury, voided out The earth and scatter'd bones: Lord, how methought I could not pray.
Flam. No; the devil was in your dream.
Vit. When to my rescue there arose, methought, A whirlwind, which let fall a massy arm From that strong plant; And both were struck dead by that sacred yew, In that base shallow grave that was their due.