Marcello and Flamineo, Sons to Cornelia, having quarrelled; Flamineo slays his Brother Marcello, their Mother being present.

CORNELIA. MARCELLO.

Cor. I hear a whispering all about the court,
You are to fight: who is your opposite ?
What is the quarrel?

Mar. 'Tis an idle rumour.

Cor. Will you dissemble? sure you do not well
To fright me thus: you never look thus pale,
But when you are most angry. I do charge you,
Upon my blessing; nay I'll call the Duke,
And he shall school you.

Mar. Publish not a fear,

Which would convert to laughter: 'tis not so.

Was not this crucifix my

Cor. Yes.

father's?

Mar. I have heard you say, giving my brother suck, He took the crucifix between his hands,

And broke a limb off.

Cor. Yes; but 'tis mended.

FLAMINEO enters.

Fla. I have brought your weapon back.

Cor. Ha, oh my

(Flamineo runs Marcello through.) horror!

Mar. You have brought it home, indeed.

Cor. Help, oh he's murder'd!

Fla. Do you turn your gall up? I'll to sanctuary,

And send a surgeon to you.

[Exit Flam.

HORTENSIUS (an Officer) enters.

Hor. How, o'th' ground?

Mar. O mother, now remember what I told

Of breaking off the crucifix. Farewell.

There are some sins, which heaven doth duly punish
In a whole family. This it is to rise

By all dishonest means.

Let all men know,

That tree shall long time keep a steady foot,
Whose branches spread no wider than the root.
Cor. O my perpetual sorrow!

Hor. Virtuous Marcello !

He's dead. Pray leave him, lady: come, you shall.
Cor. Alas! he is not dead; he's in a trance.
Why, here's no body shall get any thing by his death.
Let me call him again, for God's sake!

Hor. I would you were deceived.

Cor. O you abuse me, you abuse me, you abuse me! How many have gone away thus, for lack of 'tendance! Rear up's head, rear up's head; his bleeding inward will

kill him.

Hor. You see he is departed.

Cor. 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.
Cor. 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.

The DUKE enters with FLAMINEO, and PAGE.

Bra. Was this your handy-work?

Fla. It was my misfortune.

Cor. He lies, he lies; he did not kill him: these have

I

kill'd him, that would not let him be better look'd to.

Bra. Have comfort, my griev'd mother.

Cor. O yon' screech-owl!

Hor. Forbear, good Madam.

Cor. Let me go, let me go.

(She runs to FLAMINEO with her knife drawn,
and coming to him, lets it fall.)

The God of heaven forgive thee. Dost not wonder
pray for thee? I'll tell thee what's the reason:
I have scarce breath to number twenty minutes;
I'd not spend that in cursing. Fare thee well:
Half of thyself lies there: and may'st thou live
To fill an hour-glass with his moulder'd ashes,
To tell how thou should'st spend the time to come
In blest repentance.

Bra. Mother, pray tell me

How came he by his death? what was the quarrel?
Cor. 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
Just in my bosom.

Page. This is not true, Madam.

Cor. I pr'ythee peace.

One arrow's graz'd already: it were vain
To lose this, for that will ne'er be found again.

Francisco describes to Flamineo the grief of Cornelia at the

Funeral of Marcello.

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 o'ercharg'd with water.

Funeral Dirge for Marcello.

(His Mother sings it.)

Call for the Robin-red-breast, and the Wren,

Since o'er shady groves they hover,

And with leaves and flowers do cover

The friendless bodies of unburied men.
Call unto his funeral dole

The Ant, the Field-mouse, and the Mole,

To raise him hillocks that shall keep him warm,

And (when gay tombs are robb'd) sustain no harm ;
But keep the wolf far thence, that's foe to men,
For with his nails he'll dig them up again *.

Folded Thoughts.

Come, come, my Lord, untie your folded thoughts, And let them dangle loose as a bride's hair.

Your sister's poison'd.

Dying Princes.

To see what solitariness is about dying Princes! As heretofore they have unpeopled towns, divorced friends, and made great houses unhospitable! so now, O justice! where are their flatterers

I never saw any thing like this Dirge, except the Ditty which reminds Ferdinand of his drowned Father in the Tempest. As that is of the water, watery; so this is of the earth, earthy. Both have that intenseness of feeling, which seems to resolve itself into the elements which it contemplates.

now? flatterers are but the shadows of princes' bodies, the least thick cloud makes them invisible.

Natural Death.

O thou soft natural death! that art joint twin
To sweetest slumber !—no rough-bearded Comet
Stares on thy mild departure; the dull Owl
Beats not against thy casement; the hoarse Wolf
Scents not thy carrion. Pity winds thy corse,
Whilst horror waits on princes'

Vow of Murder rebuked.

Miserable creature,

If thou persist in this 'tis damnable.

Dost thou imagine thou canst slide on blood,
And not be tainted with a shameful fall?
Or like the black and melancholic yew-tree,
Dost think to root thyself in dead men's graves
And yet to prosper !

Dying Man.

See see how firmly he doth fix his eye

Upon the crucifix.

Oh hold it constant.

It settles his wild spirits: and so his eyes

Melt into tears.

Despair.

O the cursed Devil,

Which doth present us with all other sins

Thrice candied o'er; despair, with gall and stibium,
Yet we carouse it off.