Richard Brome Online

ACT TWO*

This act, another which is relatively short, again shifts the scene (like Act One but with more complexity) between public and private spaces. The first scene opens as if before the house or office of Chequino, Guadagni’s lawyer. The two fathers come there to finalise arrangements for the dowry and, while Guadagni enters, Pantaloni stays without to discuss with his servant, Nicolo, a plan to avenge what he considers an outrageous insult perpetrated by the Novella the previous evening. The precise nature of the insult and the intended mode of revenge are not yet revealed, only the considerable sum of gold to be awarded the doer of the deed, which suggests the insult was heinous. Nicolo agrees that revenge is necessary if old men are to consort with women in future without being the butt of ridicule. Alone, Nicolo is musing on Pantaloni’s want of charity or scruple when Fabritio, his younger master, approaches and draws him out of the street into what may be a room in Horatio’s house or a tavern, where the four young gallants last seen in 1.1 are carousing together; Nicolo joins them and is persuaded to become one in their plotting against the two old fathers. He reveals to Francisco Pantaloni’s instruction that the pedlar woman be employed to visit Flavia with gifts coming as from Fabritio, and indicates that the pedlar might be worth suborning. Nicolo next confesses he might reveal a further plot but will do so only to Fabritio. Walking apart from the others, Nicolo tells how a trick was played on Pantaloni when he attempted to bed the Novella the previous evening, and how in revenge Pantaloni plans to disgrace the courtesan in Venice by having her, unawares, converse with the public executioner and then exposed in the act to public ostracism. Since none but the Zaffi are allowed to speak with the executioner, Nicolo has acquired a Zaffi’s clothing at Pantaloni’s instruction to enable him to visit the executioner and set the scheme in motion. Fabritio takes the disguise to aid a plan forming in his own mind, bidding Nicolo acquire another uniform. Nicolo departs, as the three remaining gallants inform Fabritio that they have spent the time evolving plots of their own. Horatio alone reveals that he is setting off to visit the Novella. Though much of this scene is taken up with expository narrative about the past and with scheming for future activity, which will become clear to the audience only as the play advances, this information is rendered dynamic by the way it is conveyed to spectators in terms of social and familial relations. It is a significant aspect of the scene that, though Nicolo bears a notable grudge against Pantaloni, he devises a means to impart privately to Fabritio what happened between his father and the Novella and the consequences of that in terms of Pantaloni’s scheme for revenge rather than reveal all to the assembled company. Clearly Fabritio and Nicolo both find Pantaloni a fool and a disagreeable lecher, but they choose to protect him from universal derision and scorn. Brome’s depiction of servants, male and female, is always complex in its characterisation: like Astutta in the previous scene, Nicolo shows himself as quick-witted, spirited, understanding and not without sensitivity.

In the second scene the audience finally meet the Novella with her blackamoor maid, Jacconetta, and her bravo or pimp, Borgio. The possible inter-textual significance of the iconography of this strange trio is discussed in the General Introduction to the play. What immediately affects an audience is the uneasy, restlessly shifting tone of the dialogue. What spectators have so far been informed about the courtesan suggests that she is highly confident, but they encounter a woman decking herself the first time in the style traditional to one in her position and troubled by the self she views in her mirror. Her pimp, far from being brash and bawdy, seems privately riven with spleen, moral distaste for his mistress and himself and the lives they are pursuing, even while openly praising Victoria’s beauty: he has all the traits and extremes of temperamental moodiness of the malcontent. Victoria catches his tone and herself begins to question her trade as “lust’s instrument”, dismissing it as “vile” [NV 2.2.speech228]; she laughs when Borgio wishes they might “give o’er” and “change [their] function”[NV 2.2.speech229], but Brome does not indicate the precise quality of the laughter, which in the context could range over a gamut of tones. Victoria threatens to sack him if he does not cease his complaint and he is goaded into explaining why he has till now hindered her in pursuing her chosen career, pointing out at length the advantages, physical , social and financial, of delay. A friendlier atmosphere now prevails, in which the three of them joke about the trick played on Pantaloni and the reasons for it; and Victoria agrees not to choose a successful admirer without Borgio’s prior consent. The Novella calls for a lute and the intimate scene, which till now has been played out on the upper gallery of the playing space, opens out to embrace the whole stage as Victoria sings “above”, while numerous gallants circulate below her or approach Borgio seeking admission (at a price) to the courtesan’s private lodging. When this interlude ceases, Borgio returns “above” to inform Victoria of her success: she has attracted a wide range of foreign “visitants”, more than the house can hold. They joke comfortably together about how like their national stereotypes these would-be lovers are, though a darker tone is briefly intimated as Borgio talks of the men in terms of wild beasts on heat. Scene and act end with Victoria requesting music to “feast their ears” [NV 2.2.speech264]. This is a challenging and ambiguous scene in many ways and the ambiguities are not properly resolved, despite the seeming amity which prevails between courtesan and bravo at the close. It is not unusual in drama for the outer (usually splendid) appearance of a given character to be later exposed as a mask or disguise covering a far more disquieting inner self, but here spectators meet the characters’ underlying doubts and anxieties even as the courtesan’s attire is being assumed. This is perplexing and tension-provoking for an audience; and Brome keeps them creatively puzzled by not revealing the purpose of his dramaturgical strategy.

2.1

Enter PANTALONI, GUADAGNI [and] NICOLO, with a
ZAFFI’S* habit† under his arm.

143PantaloniIs this Chequino’s house, your advocate†?

144GuadagniIt is, and Prospero, your learned counsel†,

Is with him here, attending too our coming.

145Pantaloni’Tis well. Give me my writings, Nicolo.

Please you to enter: I’ll despatch my manGUAD[AGNI] exits

And follow instantly. Now Nicolo,

About the serious business, Nicolo,

In which this morning I instructed you.

146NicoloFor your revenge, sir.

147PantaloniRight. My apprehension†

On that discourteous†, cursèd courtesan:

’Twill breed me more delight than all the dalliances†

I could have found in her most free embraces.

I hug my quick† and sweet invention for it.

Here, take this gold, this bright refulgent† gold,

Twenty chequins†, and promise twenty more

On the performance of the brave exploit.*

’Twill take† unto my wish, I do foresee’t.

148Nicolo’Twill be, sir, such a notable revenge

That the report of it in after-ages

Will either mortify† concupiscence†

In young lascivious† harlots*, or at least

Fright out of ’em their itch† of wronging† age:

They shall no more dare to put youthful tricks

On years and gravity*.

149PantaloniRight, my Nicolo.

150Nicolo’Slid†, sir, and if you should not be revenged,

An old man should not step in the bordello†

Without the taunts of boys and gondoliers†,

Crying “Take *heed, old man, you be not served

As the Novella* fitted† Pantaloni”.*

So in short time, the City were well served,

When age shall be ashamed to crawl to lechery*.

151PantaloniRight, witty knave. Go heartily† about it.

Think what a master ’tis thou dost it for,

That has no slender tie† upon thy duty:

One that has bred thee from a youngling† up

To this maturity.

152NicoloI must acknowledge it.

153PantaloniAnd, Nicolo, it was no petty kindness

To manumise† your father from the galley*,

Which you cannot forget.

154Nicolo [Aside]* Yet must I hear it――――?

155PantaloniBut I’ll urge† thee no further. Boy, be careful:

Work but this for me with effect and speed*,

And bind me as a father to thy need*.[PANTALONI] exits

156NicoloYou have even† spoiled all now. I had as good a mind

And thought to ha’ gone as heartily† about

This piece of villainy as the devil that*

Is in my master could* devise or wish,

Till that o’er-doing† spirit put me out†.

Could he not see ’twas well and mischievous

Enough in conscience, but himself must cross† it?

Does he think by redeeming of my father

To slave me with his boasts, and foul upbraidings†?

Had he still rowed i’th’ galley, I not knowing,

The toil, the smart† and grief had been his own:

Now I inherit what was then his pain,

Hearing continually the clash of’s care*,

And his fell† stripes†, out of this babbler’s† mouth,

Which more than kills my thanks; it wreaks† my spleen†.

To brag of benefits one hath bestown

Doth make the best seem less, and most seem none:

So often times the greatest courtesy†

Is by the doer made an injury†.

Enter FABRITIO

157FabritioNicolo, well met. I saw you house* my father,

And waited for you. Come you shall draw near.

This is a near† friend’s lodging.*

(PISO, FRANCISCO, HORATIO at a table. Wine, etc.*)*

Gentlemen,

My father’s special† man I told you of.

Pray bid him welcome.

158HoratioMost entirely.

Please you to sit, sir. Here’s a short potation†.

159PisoBut good liatico†, I assure you, sir.

I’ll be your taster to quit fear of danger*,PISO drinks

And now I’ll let you know we have made oath

Upon this nimble master of invention*,

This sprightly* liquor, to be firm and faithful

To one another in a present† project.

Take you the same and grow in one with us*.

160NicoloMay I not ask what end your project aims at?

161FranciscoNor what, nor unto whose――――

162PisoLet it suffice,

We carry that about us shall end you*,They draw stilettoes†

And presently†, if you comply not with us.

163NicoloNay, nay, by fair means, gentlemen, I pray.

I am apt† enough to mischief of myself.

Look ye. I swear with you.He drinks.

164Horatio’Tis well. Now know

’Tis for the good of your young master here.

165NicoloThen you would use me in some treachery

Against my old one.

166PisoThou art a soothsayer†.

167NicoloLook you, I’ll swear again. I like your oath,

Your deep lyatic oath* here, wond’rous well.He drinks thrice†

168Fabritio’Tis well done, Nicolo: try the bottom of’t*――

169NicoloI will comply now and complot† with you

And was indifferently† prepared before.

Provided always that it tend not to

Danger of’s life.

170FabritioCould’st think me such a villain?

171NicoloNay, if it were, ’twere no disparagement†

To stake my head with yours*. But gentlemen,

Please ye fall† roundly† now upon the business,

I have now sworn enough.

172PisoThen you must answer

To these intergatories*. First do you know

If the old men, Guadagni and Pantaloni,

Do hold† their purpose for their match tomorrow*

Betwixt Fabritio here and Flavia?

173NicoloThey are marrying of ’em now at their lawyers’*,

By deed and covenant†, under hand and seal*.

I left them and their books there now together,

And for the priest tomorrow is the day.

174HoratioIs not Fabritio missed at home this morning?

175NicoloNo, not at all: the old man’s mind’s so carried

Upon the wings of this new marriage fortune―――

I cry you mercy, sir. You are the gentleman,

I think, that should have had her.

176FranciscoIn good time, sir.

177NicoloIn good time, may you. I’ll do something for you.

178FabritioHonest, deserving Nic.

179NicoloSir, thus it is:

My master sent in my young master’s name

(The more to endear†* his service† and his care

To the young lady) that the merchantess,

The rich she-pedlar of the Merceria†,

Should visit her today with all her wares,

For her to take her choice to deck† her brideship.

If you know how to plough now with that heifer**,

You may perhaps convey a message to her.

180HoratioI know her and will fit† you with directions.

181FranciscoThou hast given a hint, for which I will renown† thee.

182PisoBut Nicolo, where was your reverend† master

Attended by yourself before daylight?

183FabritioPrithee inquire not further: ’twas not he.

184NicoloThe doubtful† light deceived you, sir.

185PisoNo more than noon i’faith, a man may spy

An old whore-master in the darkest night

Like an old cat, by th’ gloring† of his eyes.

Will his old mutton-mongership† ne’er leave†?

He is already known sufficiently†

Through the city for his gift that way;

And yet he will deny his son free choice

And force him marry one he not affects†.

186HoratioThat is his drift†, whereby he may inherit

From him the same licentiousness†; and make

The world acknowledge him the more his son.

187PisoBut has he made the purchase? Has he bought

The famous piece of flesh, the rare Novella?

188NicoloI could unshale† a plot.

189HoratioNe’er doubt but do’t then.

190PisoMy noble Nicolo out with’t, I say.

191NicoloI would entreat the favour of this senate*

I might unfold it only unto one.

192FranciscoTake your free choice.

193NicoloTo you, young master, then.

[Aside to FRANCISCO]* Take heed we render not ridiculous

Your father to the wildness† of their youth:

But to yourself I will disclose a secret

That may be wrought to your advantage.

194FabritioOn.

195Nicolo’Tis true, my master was with the Novella,

Drawn by the loose† desires of wanton flesh;

But such a foul affront† he did receive

As justly doth provoke his dire revenge,

Which he hath trusted me to execute.

196FabritioHow, Nicolo? But first, what was th’ affront†?

197NicoloHe bargained with her; and for some large price

She yielded to be his. But in the night

In the conditioned† bed was laid a moor;

A hideous and detested blackamoor†,

Which he (demanding light to please his eye*,

As old men use all motives*)

Discovered†; and, enraged, forsook† the house,

Affrighted and ashamed to ask his coin again*.

198FabritioBut seeks revenge! How, how, good Nicolo?

199NicoloThus sir: you know what common disrepute*

Falls upon man or woman that is found

Conversing with the common city-hangman,

That nearest kindred after such converse

Shun their society, as they would do him

(The hangman’s self) so odious are they held,

Except it be those officers allowed†

By the state-public to negotiate† with him.

200FabritioI know it, Nicolo. But what can follow?

201Nicolo’Tis plotted that the hangman shall go to her,

And be discovered with her in such sort†,

As her disgrace shall force her fly† the city;

And I have undertaken to effect it.

202FabritioIt must be then by bribing of the hangman:

And how can’st thou do that with thine own safety?

Thou may’st be so discovered and so hated.

203NicoloFor that, observe the politic*† invention

Of my old master: the habit† of a Zaffi*,

One of th’inferior ministers of justice,

That walks between the Senate and their friend,

The executioner† of their commands.

204FabritioBut what disguise shall shroud* the hangman thither*,

Whose own shape is as horrid as the plague?

205NicoloThe habit† of some stranger in the city,

Which* here is gold to purchase.

206FabritioThou hast informed,

Nay more, thou hast inspired me, Nicolo!

I shall find way by this to break the contract

My father would enforce; preserve his credit†;

And save the poor Novella from the fame**

My father threatens by his own disgrace.

Be then but true to me.

207NicoloSir, if I fail―――

208FabritioEnough: I’ll trust thee. Keep the gold thyself;

Give me this habit. Get thyself another

In all points like it, and in that return

Unto my father; confidently tell him

The hangman undertakes it, and at five,

Soon in the evening in stranger’s habit,

He will accost† her.

209NicoloSir ―――

210FabritioI’ll see’t performed.

Trust to my word and care, and thy reward.

211NicoloI leave all to you, sir. And crave my dismission†.

212PisoWhat! Has he done?

213FabritioMost friendly. Farewell, Nicolo.NICOLO exits

He has given me plot enough, if I but† work it;

And it produce not comic sport i’th’end

I must subscribe† my wit is not my friend.*

I must crave your assistance, gentlemen.

214HoratioWe have been plotting too*.

215FranciscoAnd though our project run not the same way,

It may conclude with yours to crown the day.

216PisoSo: to your several ways.

217HoratioI am for the Novella*.All exit

2.2

VICTORIA above*, looking in a glass; JACCONETTA; and BORGIO*

] Jacomo, Paulo, by-named Burgio (A modern editor is faced with a dilemma here. This is the first scene in which we meet Victoria, the Novella of the title, and her entourage, which comprises her black maid, Jacconetta, and her pandar or bravo, Borgio. However, the last two are masquerading in these roles: Jacconetta is in fact a boy-page, Jacomo, who perhaps is heavily made-up, while Borgio has adopted an assumed role and name, being in reality Victoria's brother, Paulo. The true identities of both maid and pandar will not be revealed until the closing moments of the play as far as spectators in the theatre are concerned; but readers are let into the secret immediately by the way the printed text presents them. Jacconetta is introduced in the opening stage direction as Jacomo, though in the ensuing dialogue, "she" is continually referred to as Jacconetta, while the pandar's double-identity is shown by the reference to Paulo as being "bi-named". Consequently readers have a different relation to the text and the action from that offered to an audience: the former are privileged to know from the start that all is not as it seems regarding at least two of the characters appearing here, while for the latter the revelation as to these characters' actual names, natures, backgrounds and, in the maid's case, gender, is deliberately withheld by Brome for a calculated dramatic effect. An audience may come to suspect that Borgio is other than he seems from a variety of pointers within the dialogue, but their suspicions are not endorsed until the last act and Borgio's confession that he is really Paulo. To complicate matters Jacconetta is named as such in the list of characters at the opening of the 1653 text, though Paulo is at that point introduced to readers as having an alias: "PAULO (bi-named Burgio)". Following the precedent set by numerous editors of Jacobean and Caroline texts who have similarly been faced with the issue of disguise and hidden identity, this edition has chosen for the sake of clarity to call both these characters by their assumed names, Jacconetta and Borgio, in all speech-prefixes and stage directions. A further point to note is that Brome or his compositor seems for some way into the play to be uncertain what Paulo's alias is to be. In the list of characters he appears as "bi-named Burgio" as in this stage direction in the 1653 text. As that text develops, this name is steadily replaced by Borgio, which prevails till the end of the play. For consistency's sake this edition deploys the alias, Borgio, throughout. In all subsequent stage directions Jacconetta's name is given in full rather than the abbreviated "Jac." of the 1653 text. After this initial textual note explaining the reasons for these major changes, no further notes will indicate every last emendation in this category.) .

218VictoriaSo, I am ready:

Tonally this scene, which introduces Victoria and her household to the audience, is difficult to gauge from the printed text. News of her arrival and of her beauty has made such an impact on Venetian men that they have begun avidly milling around her house, as the audience saw in the opening scene. Brome delays giving the audience a view of her until a third of the way into the play, and this builds expectation. She appears in the full panoply of a courtesan, having been newly dressed in the fashion by her blackamoor maid, Jacconetta, and she looks resplendent. What is unexpected is the nervous energy that permeates the dialogue, particularly when her pimp, Borgio, arrives to see if she is prepared to face potential clients. That Victoria should be anxious at this first appearance in public is not explained only registered: that she should be suffering from “first night nerves” is not surprising, though she needs to get the better of them if she is to succeed in her chosen career. What is surprising is the moral questioning that colours her speech and in time that of her pimp. What these two characters say is decidedly at odds with how they appear (their clothes are indicative of their social roles; their words have a troubled sobriety). As is argued at length in the Introduction, the scene visually carries distinct intertextual resonances of Webster’s The White Devil, which similarly includes scenes involving a courtesan (significantly called Vittoria) , her pimp or go-between (Flamineo, who is also her brother) and a black servant (Zanche). Like Flamineo’s, Borgio’s speech is dark, brooding and satirically caustic and one objective of the workshop was to explore what the effect would be of emphasizing these links with Webster’s tragedy. There is little in this scene that fully embraces comedy, which places it in stark contrast to the deceptions, duplicities, plotting and counter-plotting of the previous three scenes, which are full of the kind of business to do with amatory frustrations that fuels the plot of many comedies and the scenarios of commedia dell’arte.. All the characters in those earlier scenes were readily placed as recognisable comic types, even if Brome works the material with considerable freedom. The three characters onstage before spectators now would seem all too easy to place; but they do not play up to our expectations. If Brome has a strategy in this, should it be made clear to the audience or should the performance augment the ambiguities?

A read-through brought from the actors comment on the convoluted syntax of their speeches, which seems indicative of a profound inner wrestling with conscience in both Victoria and Borgio, and conscience would seem out of place in the particular setting and situation. Given the length and complexity of the scene, it was agreed that we should work on small sections at a time. The opening (from 2.2. speech 218) because it is about being dressed and made ready for an event, needed, we thought, to create a sense of something imminent. The first surprise comes with the revelation of what Victoria terms Borgio’s “misery”: the terms she uses then show her adopting a similar moral perspective to his on what they are all doing, as she dismisses the profession she is on the point of adopting as one “that makes nature vile /In her own shame”. Victoria actually voices what spectators may well be thinking by now when she questions Borgio: “dost think by preaching modesty /To quit thee of the baseness of thy trade?” Brian Woolland in directing the actors suggested that Victoria and Jacconetta need to establish a complicity between them and that Olivia should play Victoria in the opening sequence as bubbling with nervous energy, which Borgio’s dark brooding voice can contrast with. To effect this contrast he chose to place Sam Alexander (Borgio) downstage and close to the audience so that he could impart directly to them his distaste with what is happening and to do so with a cynicism that has its own acerbic energy. Brian wished to point up the contrast between the women’s intimacy together and Borgio’s being excluded from that and made to seem an outsider. He instructed Olivia Darnley (Victoria) to enter and play with the space, try what it feels like to be wearing such alien attire, so there is a “sense of trying on the role as well as trying on new clothes” (his words).

Richard Cave felt that Olivia was getting a suitable distance as Victoria from her role as courtesan; that that distance was being conveyed to spectators in a manner that was suitably discomfiting; and that Sam was beginning to achieve a similar complexity of performance with Borgio as critiquing the role he was being required to play. No one is happy in the role she or he is playing. Sam confessed at this stage: “I do feel in the dark with this one [meaning Borgio]” and Richard argued that this is precisely the situation the audience should be in at this point. (The actors had quite deliberately not been told yet what would be revealed at the end of the play about the relation of Borgio and Victoria. They were informed only about the working relationship between the two.) It was decided to move on from where the last recording ended and start at 2.2. speech 225. Brian suggested that Victoria here expects Borgio to sing her praises but instead he launches into analogies with sacrificial animals, which impels her to seek more comfort from Jacconetta. This would more easily motivate the maid’s defence of her mistress (speech 231) on the grounds that her appearance is the product of Borgio’s advice.

Spectators of this version sensed in the action as it was now rendered that Borgio was testing Victoria through his criticism of her being a courtesan to see how far prepared she was to go along with that idea or whether she would succumb to his moral line and give up her chosen career. This was the final section of Sam’s first attempt at Borgio’s long speech (237) extolling the advantages to be gained from Victoria’s holding out as a courtesan and not giving in to the first likely suitor.

Confident of the syntax, which had been the subject of much discussion, Sam presents a Borgio, who forcefully and genially espouses amorality and calculation in preference to conscience and moral scruple. In Sam’s handling, the complexities of the syntax become the correlatives of Borgio’s control of the situation and of a grand, worldly-wise strategy for success.

It was at this point that the actors were informed of the end of the play and the revelation that Borgio is really Victoria’s brother, which is why he is anxious to ensure she abides by the plan that she awards herself only to a man who can produce the fabulously high fee that has been placed on her maidenhead. This is his means of ensuring she stays a virgin; Victoria capitulates to the scheme because she wishes to preserve her honour for Fabritio, the lover she is in quest of; Jacconetta (being in reality Jacomo, Fabritio’s pageboy) is presumably also concerned that she remains a virgin for his master’s sake. Given that knowledge, the actors appreciated that the strange quality of the scene derives from the fact that visually the action is a depiction of a courtesan at work but everyone involved in the scene is determined that the would-be courtesan’s chastity is safeguarded. If the whole “show” is really an elaborate game, then everyone has to play true to role rather than to self for it to succeed. (More than in any other workshop we attempted with the actors, a considerable length of time needed to be taken up discussing points of detail, meanings, relationships, possible ironies, the significance of the mirror as a prop, the range of reference to other drama and particularly The White Devil. Richard Cave deemed this necessary to get tentatively some sense of how the original audience may have responded to the play in performance, how they read what they viewed. Some intimation here of what the final scene was to reveal should ideally be given to spectators so that the actual revelations would seem at least plausible when they came, and not just a convenient way of ending an intricate plot.) With all this information at their command, the actors played the scene anew.

The argument between Victoria and Borgio now had shape and purpose and Brian Woolland noted how actually this sequence ends where it begins with Victoria facing up to her first public appearance in the role of courtesan (from “So, I am ready” to “So now about our business”) but in the interim the audience have been made a party to all the doubts, fears, anxieties that lie behind her decision to pursue her intended purpose and the fears of her accomplice that she lacks that strength of purpose. From the moment that Borgio here voiced his acquiescence and commitment to Victoria’s command (“I’m now your creature”), there was a growing accord between them (they could even afford to share a joke about old Pantaloni’s visit the previous evening); and Victoria chose to understand his concern as dictated by his wish to achieve the best for them both. This gave considerable weight to Victoria’s line (“And therefore, doubt not, careful Borgio”) in speech 244, which Olivia articulated with a steady emphasis on each of the last four words to denote her giving him an absolute assurance of her faith in the enterprise they had planned. This in turn met with his echoing her words on his exit: “You need not doubt me”. Pledges had been given on both sides and unity achieved. (When next we see them together in this act (at speech 250) after Borgio has accepted fees from a number of hopeful clients, they are far more relaxed and companionable together.) After dissonance, a harmony obtains. In the subsequent discussion, Olivia made an observation that the director chose to work with:

Brian suggested that the three used the kind of opening Olivia envisaged to establish a rather different tone that was closer to comedy than they had yet played, and that Victoria should be giddy with excitement and fear and “right on the edge of being out of control”. He instructed Sam to show more of the monk (Borgio’s alter ego, Paulo) trying to play a bravo, so that the element of performance was foregrounded through his tonal shifts.

The pace was faster in this reading, pushed on by the near-hysteria that never quite subsided in Victoria. The tone had a comic dimension but was fraught with unease: much was at stake when this Victoria went public and the quarrel now seemed almost a tactic to delay the inevitable appearance she must soon make. What seemed lost in this version were the Websterian echoes especially in Borgio’s dialogue (Flamineo in The White Devil is an absolute malcontent; Borgio is assuming that persona, and the stress on the role-play was at the expense of that parallel). Brian Woolland seized on one particular moment to investigate further. He saw the potential in developing what had been done on impulse by Sam to stage a significant break in social decorum.

The actors were instructed to try and pitch the final moments of the sequence between the strained jokiness of the previous reading and the threatening tonal quality that had prevailed in earlier attempts. This was the result.

Here the brother embraced the sister but she, knowing him only as a bravo, was wholly shocked by the intimacy, the sudden intrusion on her personal space; Jacconetta became quizzical of what exactly was happening; and the subsequent tone of the exchanges between Victoria and Borgio was embarrassed, business-like, intent on restoring their earlier formality; and this gave more logic to her questioning whether Borgio is to be trusted or feared. This performance was (despite its various textual slips) far more nuanced than earlier attempts. It was beginning to resolve the dilemma the scene poses about how to realise the particularly enigmatic tone of the action and dialogue, and showed ways of situating the sequence within the larger context of the play overall. Surprises were being effected which registered as significant that it would take more of the action fully and credibly to explain. The tensions here were organic and potentially far-reaching within the large-scale narrative strategies that Brome is setting up. Actors and director noted what help to them the mirror had become as a prop through which to point the dialogue significantly; and they considered that what they needed next was Victoria’s elaborate dress, if the many levels of irony in the scene were to be fully realised, and too a suitably raffish set of clothes for Borgio. What had seemed at first glance a highly wordy scene had begun to reveal the need for a varied set of visual signifiers to realise the complexities of meaning inherent in the dramaturgy. and trust me Jacconetta,

My pretty moor† (for so I still must call thee

For thy dear master’s sake that gave thee to me*)

Thou art grown skilful in these quaint† attires†,

So lately unacquainted with my wearing*:

Thou hast played the good beginner at this dressing,

And by thine industry and further practice,

I doubt not but my knowledge will grow ripe†.

219Borgio Aside* And by that knowledge, you yourself soon rotten*.

O! Could these creatures grow still† towards ripeness;

Or, being ripe, abide† so, and no further*,

What excellent fruit they were!

220VictoriaWhat say you, Borgio*?

221BorgioI say among the twenty thousand courtesans*

In and about this city, none becomes

The dressing† or the habit†*

Courtesans were usually recognisable from their particular dress (for its costliness and splendour) and from their highly elaborate hairstyles. Their clothes or habits often displayed an extreme decolletage and consequently an exposure of breasts and cleavage. Coryat devotes a long section in his Crudities ([Glasgow: James MacLehose for Glasgow University Press, 1905], Vol 1, pp. 400-404) to courtesans, their ways of dressing, their make-up and treatment of their hair (oiled, dyed, washed and shaped usually with two front coils being arranged like horns over their temples). An etching of one such courtesan, labelled "Margarita Emiliana bella Courtesana di Venetia", whom Coryat visited is included in his volume of travel writings. The image (inserted in volume 1 opposite p.408)[IMAGE NV_2_1] is notable for what it reveals about a courtesan's attire: Margarita is wearing a heavy brocade dress with a fringed hem to the skirt; ornately embroidered sleeves with elaborate capped shoulder sections frame her breasts; these are but thinly disguised with veiling, which is caught up into a high, starched collar behind; this beautifully frames her head, her long neck encircled with pearls and a thick gold chain with one vast, central jewel and her extensively curled hair with a positive coronet of "horns" surrounding her forehead. Courtesans' other notable feature (to be seen when walking the streets of Venice) were their high chopines. These were delicate slipper-like upper shoes, which were under-supported by high and thick soles of substances such as cork that raised the wearers from the ground as if on short stilts and made walking a matter for careful balance and difficult degrees of poise. The style had evolved from the fashion for ornately decorated, raised clogs. Riello and McNeil devote a whole chapter of their monograph on the history of shoes to this form of footwear, which was a popular fashion developing over several centuries. (See Giorgio Riello and Peter McNeil, Shoes: A History from Sandals to Sneakers [Oxford and New York: Berg, 2006], especially chapter 3.) The progress through the streets of women wearing chopines was therefore slow and, if they were sufficiently practised in the art, extremely stately: they would appear to glide along rather than walk. Coryat, who called them "chapineys", disliked the style, which he deemed "frivolous and ridiculous" (p.400) since wearers were required to go in the streets supported by a man or woman servant "to the end they would not fall". Examples of chopines may be found in the Museo Correr in Venice, while a coloured etching of 1589 by Pietro Bertelli in the Bayerisches Nationalmuseum in Munich shows a courtesan with a long red gown, which by means of a hinged flap may be lifted to reveal that below she is wearing chopines (of a height that equals the distance between her feet and her knees), stockings and knee-length trousers in blue silk by way of an undergarment. like yourself,

Your most unparalleled self*! But, noblest lady,

Think ’tis your person beautifies the dress,

Not it, your person.

222VictoriaWhy not it my person?*

223BorgioYes, as the flame the fuel:

To work it into coals and so to ashes.

224VictoriaStill, Borgio, in your old morality!

225BorgioThese tires†, these chains†, these paintings†, and these gauds†*

Are but the sprigs and leaves* the butchers use

To set out flesh to sale with; or, at best,

But the gay garlands which adorn the beast

Prepared for sacrifice* ――――

226VictoriaPeace, Borgio, peace.

227BorgioAnd as those beasts, so senseless are you women

Of the most certain danger you put on

With your vainglorious† gaiety†: chips† and straws,

To kindle fire of lust, in whose lewd* flame

Sinks (with Troy’s buildings)* Nature’s choicest fame*.

228VictoriaI would I understood this misery!

Deal freely† with me, Borgio: what new art

Hast thou in practice, that thou set’st a face

Shiningly varnished with divinity

On a profession that makes Nature vile

In her own shame? Lust’s instrument!*

Nay, case of instruments: holding all means

For propagation and maintaining of it*,

To make thy gain out of its dregs and fragments*.

Tell me, dost think by preaching modesty

To quit† thee of the baseness of thy trade:

A poor, necessitous† bravo†? Or hast hope

To live upon my honesty and yet be still

Thyself a ruffiano†?

229BorgioI would give o’er,

Would you; and change my function†.*

230VictoriaHa, ha, ha,――――

231JacconettaWhat mean you, Borgio? Would you now spoil all?

Did you instruct her in this way of profit,

And no less pleasant too than profitable

(As most of my books’ titles are)* whereby

She was so well resolvèd to go on―――

232BorgioHold thy peace, fool: she will run on the faster.

Thou know’st not how much harm preaching has done

’Mongst women. She will prove the only sweepstake*

In all the city.

233JacconettaOh! Are you there*, devil?

234VictoriaSir, leave this grumbling or I’ll turn you off*

Amongst your brothers and your sons, (ruffianos*),

To lurch† i’th’ night betwixt eleven and two

To rob and drown for prey*; till, being taken,

Immediate hanging follows.

235BorgioI’m now your creature†,

My noble, resolute mistress; now I adore you;

Now you shine bright; your bravery† now becomes you.

Yet (let me tell you under fair† correction)

I have some cause to hinder your desires,

And theirs that seek you more, yet†, for a time.

236VictoriaYour reason, sir?

237BorgioYou know I was preferred† to you for a bravo*

Of long and dear† experience. I have served

Six, the most famous dames* this city bred

These sixty years; none scorning my advice

By which*, and† their endeavours, they grew up

To purse† the price of providences†, which bestowed

The most in public; some in pious uses

Purchased them fame, almost canonization†.

The last and least of them, Margarita Emiliana*

Founded the Augustinian† Monastery*

I showed you late†, where she has daily prayers*.

These women, whom successively† I served,

Fell not by rash adventure* unto all

Great Fortune’s offers*; but by sound advice

(Which kept their bodies sound† and riched† their coffers†)

Were long ere† they embraced, by which their price

And beauty grew of greater estimation.

My profit in this too is unneglected†:

For long suspense and tedious expectation*

Bring me more certain fees; where† if you fell†

Immediately to work, my work were done

And your own too, perhaps too soon. Witness the falls†

That pox† and poverty have brought on many,

When their youth’s flame† was spent† and they rejected*,

When others of their sisterhood* were embraced†

Into a wholesome† nunnery.

238VictoriaThis fellow speaks my thoughts. Borgio, I thought

You had respect to your particular† profit

In all this winding† wariness† for my good.

239BorgioYou may conceive, ’twould grieve me, that (where now

You have continual, new and bounteous suitors

That yield me fees for the bare sight of you)

You should in yielding to their common use*

Send one man cloyed† away, t’affright another

From his approach.

240VictoriaBorgio, no more of this.

A dear friend put you to me, for whose sake

I hitherto have followed your advice,

In hoisting† up the price of my virginity.

241JacconettaTo such a rate no common purse dares venture,

Nor common folks presume t’approach the house.

242VictoriaAnd such as did attempt, by offering less,

I have sent back with shame: as the old youth*

Last night, for which I thank thee, Jacconetta.

243JacconettaI think I cooled his grave† concupiscence†.

244VictoriaAnd therefore, doubt not, careful Borgio:

Unless I meet a husband by the way

I will not stoop* this month at a less rate

Than the proposed sum and your consent.

245BorgioI thank you more than if you had possessed

Me of the value of that sum proposed.

246Jacconetta [Aside]* He means her maidenhead! [To BORGIO] I’faith†, good sir,

The mark’s grown out of your old chaps*, or else

Hang me if I believed you, by that little

I know of man.

247VictoriaSo now about our business.

Some of my visitants† I know are near.

Wait circumspectly†, Borgio.

248BorgioYou need not doubt me.[BORGIO] exit[s]*

249Victoria [Aside] There is some hidden virtue in this fellow

Or dangerous ill; but whether†, let it be*;

As was my birth, my purpose shall be free.*

[Aloud] Make fit my chamber, Jaconet. But first

Give me my lute; and set me for the sign*

Of what I mean to be, the famed Novella.

[JACCONETTA presents a lute and exits]

Song.

Whilst she plays and sings above, BORGIO waits below.*Many gallants pass over the stage, gazing at her. PISO is received in by BORGIO; after him a French cavalier*; then a brave Spaniard*; and after him a glorious German*. BORGIO takes fees of all as they enter the house.

The Song ended, BORGIO appears above with VICTORIA.

250VictoriaNow, Borgio, how speaks your muster roll†?

What? Are you full?

251BorgioI have an army royal†

Of princely spirits*, ready for encounter*.

252VictoriaBut one at once*, good Borgio.

253BorgioI have encamped* them each in several† quarter†.

Here lies the no less politic† than stout†

Italian force; and there your sprightly† French;

Here the brave Spaniard; there the German bold;*

Here the Polonian†; and Sclavonian† there;

Persian and Grecian*―――

254VictoriaPray thee hold. No more.

255Borgio’Tis not your house can hold (would I admit ’em)

One of each several† nation would throng in

To make his battery† on your virgin fort*.

The rich piazza† on her greatest mart†

Boasts not more nations, nor St. Mark* himself

The understanding of more languages*

Than I (could I find house-room) could receive,

To be made one by your interpretation*.

O what a daring glass† is sparkling beauty,

Fetching† ambition from above the pitch†

Of tow’ring eagles, or sky-touching larks

Down with a glance* into the nets of love*!

256VictoriaPray thee, speak nearer home*: who hast thou housed?

257BorgioI have culled† from the pack* a special prince;

Four glittering gallants; one of Italy,

For our dear country’s sake; but then a Monsieur,

A jovial Frenchman, all of flame† and spirit†.

258VictoriaI shall not dare to meddle† with his glory*

For fear I fall with Semele*. Who next?

259BorgioA Spaniard next, that, to adorn his pride,

Wears an epitome of both the Indies*.

260VictoriaI saw his punctuality† pass by.

261BorgioAnd did you note his stiff reservedness?

He dares not cough for† breaking of his chain.

But then there is a Dutchman, (cargo lustig*!)

A jolly strong-chinned German, princely born

(A Landsgrave† at the least) whose very bluntness

Promises more than the sharp-set Italian,

The fiery Frenchman or the doughty† Diego*

In all their eager pursuit.

262VictoriaThat man, Borgio!

You have bestowed them all in several† rooms?

263BorgioOh like fierce beasts: from scent* of one another*!

264VictoriaThen first (in fair requital† of the music

I do imagine some of them bestowed

On me this morning) ere† my love appears

To feed their eyes, let music feast their ears*.All exit

Edited by Professor Richard Cave