Act 2, Scene 2

Enter Brachiano, with one in the habit of a conjurer

Brach. Now, sir, I claim your promise: 'tis dead midnight,
  The time prefix'd to show me by your art,
  How the intended murder of Camillo,
  And our loath'd duchess, grow to action.

Conj. You have won me by your bounty to a deed
  I do not often practise. Some there are,
  Which by sophistic tricks, aspire that name
  Which I would gladly lose, of necromancer;
  As some that use to juggle upon cards,
  Seeming to conjure, when indeed they cheat;
  Others that raise up their confederate spirits
  'Bout windmills, and endanger their own necks
  For making of a squib; and some there are
  Will keep a curtal to show juggling tricks,
  And give out 'tis a spirit; besides these,
  Such a whole ream of almanac-makers, figure-flingers,
  Fellows, indeed that only live by stealth,
  Since they do merely lie about stol'n goods,
  They 'd make men think the devil were fast and loose,
  With speaking fustian Latin. Pray, sit down;
  Put on this nightcap, sir, 'tis charmed; and now
  I 'll show you, by my strong commanding art,
  The circumstance that breaks your duchess' heart.

A Dumb Show

Enter suspiciously Julio and Christophero: they draw a curtain where Brachiano's picture is; they put on spectacles of glass, which cover their eyes and noses, and then burn perfumes before the picture, and wash the lips of the picture; that done, quenching the fire, and putting off their spectacles, they depart laughing.

Enter Isabella in her night-gown, as to bedward, with lights, after her, Count Lodovico, Giovanni, Guidantonio, and others waiting on her: she kneels down as to prayers, then draws the curtain of the picture, does three reverences to it, and kisses it thrice; she faints, and will not suffer them to come near it; dies; sorrow expressed in Giovanni, and in Count Lodovico. She is conveyed out solemnly.

Brach. Excellent! then she 's dead.

Conj. She 's poisoned
  By the fumed picture. 'Twas her custom nightly,
  Before she went to bed, to go and visit
  Your picture, and to feed her eyes and lips
  On the dead shadow: Doctor Julio,
  Observing this, infects it with an oil,
  And other poison'd stuff, which presently
  Did suffocate her spirits.

Brach. Methought I saw
  Count Lodowick there.

Conj. He was; and by my art
  I find he did most passionately dote
  Upon your duchess. Now turn another way,
  And view Camillo's far more politic fate.
  Strike louder, music, from this charmed ground,
  To yield, as fits the act, a tragic sound!

The Second Dumb Show

Enter Flamineo, Marcello, Camillo, with four more as captains: they drink healths, and dance; a vaulting horse is brought into the room; Marcello and two more whispered out of the room, while Flamineo and Camillo strip themselves into their shirts, as to vault; compliment who shall begin; as Camillo is about to vault, Flamineo pitcheth him upon his neck, and, with the help of the rest, writhes his neck about; seems to see if it be broke, and lays him folded double, as 'twere under the horse; makes show to call for help; Marcello comes in, laments; sends for the cardinal and duke, who comes forth with armed men; wonders at the act; commands the body to be carried home; apprehends Flamineo, Marcello, and the rest, and go, as 'twere, to apprehend Vittoria.

Brach. 'Twas quaintly done; but yet each circumstance
  I taste not fully.

Conj. Oh, 'twas most apparent!
  You saw them enter, charg'd with their deep healths
  To their boon voyage; and, to second that,
  Flamineo calls to have a vaulting horse
  Maintain their sport; the virtuous Marcello
  Is innocently plotted forth the room;
  Whilst your eye saw the rest, and can inform you
  The engine of all.

Brach. It seems Marcello and Flamineo
  Are both committed.

Conj. Yes, you saw them guarded;
  And now they are come with purpose to apprehend
  Your mistress, fair Vittoria. We are now
  Beneath her roof: 'twere fit we instantly
  Make out by some back postern.

Brach. Noble friend,
  You bind me ever to you: this shall stand
  As the firm seal annexed to my hand;
  It shall enforce a payment. [Exit Brachiano.

Conj. Sir, I thank you.
  Both flowers and weeds spring, when the sun is warm,
  And great men do great good, or else great harm.
                                                                   [Exit.

• Tweet