feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/gradesaver/The White Devil/section_2_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: The White Devil.act 3.scene 1-scene 3
feat_summary_id: act 3
feat_summary: {"name": "Act 3", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20180409073731/http://www.gradesaver.com/the-white-devil/study-guide/summary-act-3", "summary": "Act 3 opens in Rome, as Francisco and Monticelso prepare Vittoria's trial for the murder of Camillo. As their Chancellor and Register physically set the stage for the trial, Francisco and Monticelso discuss how they will blacken Vittoria's name, despite their lack of concrete evidence. The four men soon leave, and Flamineo, Marcello, and a Lawyer enter. The lawyer chides the two brothers, explaining that Vittoria will be easily convicted if any evidence exists showing she has even kissed Brachiano. Flamineo jokes with the lawyer, twisting his words around to make sexual innuendos in order to prevent suspicion of his own guilt in the matter. Marcello, however, is in a miserable mood, and chastises his brother for helping Brachiano and Vittoria enact their illicit schemes. Flamineo counters that his goal was always to better his and Vittoria's fortunes. He criticizes Marcello for serving Francisco for very little money, but Marcello interrupts and insults him. At that moment, several foreign ambassadors, who are to judge the trial, walk across the stage. The Savoy Ambassador enters first, followed by the French Ambassador. The Lawyer and Flamineo mockingly discuss the French Ambassador's talent for tilting, which is also a pun for sexual intercourse, and Flamineo further describes him as impotent. The England and Spanish Ambassadors arrive last, and Flamineo insults them to himself. Everyone exits. Scene 2 Scene 2 presents Vittoria's arraignment. It begins as Francisco, Monticelso, the Ambassadors, Brachiano, Vittoria, Zanche, Flamineo, Marcello, the Lawyer, and a guard file in. Monticelso explains to Brachiano that there is no chair for him, so Brachiano lays a rich gown underneath himself as a place to rest. Monticelso then calls Vittoria and Zanche to the stand, and the lawyer enters a plea against them in Latin. Vittoria asks for the lawyer to speak in his \"usual tongue\" so that the spectators can understand. She believes that Latin will cloud the trial and judgment. Francisco grants the request, so the lawyer, searching for large, Latin-esque words, delivers a flowery, nonsensical rant against Vittoria. Vittoria protests, and Francisco dismisses the lawyer. Monticelso now takes control of the prosecution, accusing Vittoria of being a whore. When Vittoria asks him to elucidate his meaning, he compares whores alternately to poisoned perfumes, Russian winters, high taxes, and counterfeit money. When Vittoria denies the charge, the ambassadors discuss the case, concluding that she has lived \"ill,\" but that Monticelso is also \"too bitter\" to be trusted as impartial. Together, Francisco and Monticelso present the case claiming that Vittoria killed Camillo. In her defense, Vittoria kneels before the ambassadors and begs forgiveness for her strong, masculine assertions and personality. The ambassadors are impressed by her bravery, and Vittoria triumphantly tells Monticelso that the insults he used towards her are easily leveled back at him. To further implicate Vittoria, Monticelso asks her who was in her home the night her husband was murdered. Brachiano stands up and admits to being there, but claims that he was trying to help Camillo settle his debt to Monticelso. When Monticelso accuses Brachiano of indulging his lust, Brachiano insults Monticelso and leaves the courtroom, leaving his rich coat behind. Francisco asserts that the prosecution lacks sufficient evidence to convict Vittoria, and moreover believes her soul is not \"black\" enough to commit such a deed. In answer, Monticelso produces a letter from Brachiano to Vittoria, which entreats her to join him at a summer-house. Vittoria reminds him that they have only his invitation and not her \"frosty\" response to it, and so the letter proves only his lust, and not her sin. Vittoria claims she has only committed petty sins, and that Monticelso is accusing her unsympathetically and unfairly. Monticelso next reveals that Brachiano gave Vittoria money, which she claims was meant to pay her husband's debt. She insists Monticelso cannot fairly act as both prosecutor and impartial judge, and appeals to both the ambassadors and the audience for judgment instead. Monticelso then tells the story of Camillo's marriage to Vittoria, claiming Camillo received no money from her dowry, and that she had always acted like a whore. Monticelso prepares to pass judgment. He first tells Flamineo and Marcello that they must stay nearby even though he does not yet have evidence with which to charge them of a crime. He then sentences Vittoria to a \"house of convertites,\" a home for penitent prostitutes. Vittoria screams for vengeance and insists Monticelso has raped Justice as she is led away. Brachiano enters, dazed and upset. He says a few mysterious and mournful words to Francisco before leaving again. Aside, Flamineo congratulates Brachiano on his performance, and resolves to also act like he is mad with grief other Vittoria's punishment so that nobody will think him guilty of anything. He exits, and Lodovico and Giovanni enter together. Dressed in black, Giovanni reveals to his uncle that Isabella is dead. The ambassadors leave the stage at Monticelso's request, and Giovanni mourns his mother's death, asking Francisco what happens to the dead. Deeply upset, Francisco sends Giovanni and Lodovico away so that he may mourn Isabella's death privately. Scene 3 Flamineo enters, acting distracted and insane as planned in the previous scene. When Marcello and Lodovico follow him, Flamineo gripes about his misfortune, listing all the situations he'd prefer to serving Brachiano. The Savoy Ambassador enters and tries to console Flamineo, but he rebuffs the condolences. The French Ambassador then enters and argues that the proof of guilt was clear, but Flamineo accuses Monticelso of being corrupt and using bribes. The English Ambassador enters and Flamineo continues cursing at Monticelso. All three ambassadors leave, and Flamineo subtly insults Marcello, partly by referencing Cain's murder of Abel. Flamineo then leaves the stage. Aside, Lodovico comments on Flamineo's scandalous words, and resolves to learn more of the man. Flamineo re-enters, wondering how and why Lodovico is back, since he is still officially banished. The two men exchange subtle insults. Gasparo and Antonelli enter, laughing. Flamineo refers sarcastically to the \"grieving\" couple, while he and Lodovico exchange a few more insults and then make a pact to stop arguing. Antonelli tells Lodovico that the Pope, on his deathbed, has signed Lodovico's pardon. Rejoicing in his good fortune, Lodovico breaks with Flamineo and calls Vittoria a whore. Flamineo strikes Lodovico, and Marcello drags him away. Lodovico is upset to have been hit by Flamineo, whom he considers a low-class pimp. Nonetheless, he resolves to forget the insult and get drunk instead.", "analysis": "Act 3 is the center of the narrative action. Most of the act, which is divided into smaller scenes mostly for convenience and could be performed as a continuous scene, is concerned with Vittoria's trial.  This central event allows Webster to explore and express most of his play's major themes in an explicit fashion, and it also showcases how deeply Webster's pessimism runs. A woman's lack of agency is quite clear in the trial, both through the story and through the theatricality. One interesting aspect is how the trial deepens Vittoria's character, and explores her as more than just a lover or sensual figure. She demonstrates intelligence and power by commanding that her lawyer not speak in Latin. She wants the trial to be clear for everyone, and although she knows Latin , she fears the esoteric language will alienate those to whom she might appeal for justice. Unfortunately, though her clever use of power does get the Lawyer eliminated, Cardinal Monticelsco quickly seizes what power she has. One other way that the trial explores a woman's position is through an interesting theatrical device. In describing the stage, Webster writes that Isabella is amongst those watching, even though she died in the previous act. While this could be simply a slip-up, it is also possible that Isabella and Zanche were meant to be played by the same actress. This casting would connect the two women in the audience's minds, and thereby connect Isabella and Vittoria. Although they are often presented as polar opposites, one being a whore and the other a martyr, it is also possible to argue that their similarities as women are more significant those those differences.  Each woman has a complex mix of vice and virtue within her, and both women are ultimately victims of male desires and social forces. The most overpowering impression left by the trial is the intense misogyny that is personified through Monticelso. Though he admits that he has no concrete proof, he energetically seeks conviction solely on arguments that attack her character, focusing on her misuse of female sexuality. Vittoria has many logical arguments - she says one cannot blame a river for a man's suicide, for instance - but as she notes, a woman can only find revenge through words whereas men can exploit fears of cuckoldry or contempt for overly-sexualized women as tools. When she apologizes to the judges for having appeared too masculine, it is a last ditch effort to acknowledge why she is being persecuted and then hopefully help them transcend their prejudices. And of course, the trial reveals a blatant misuse of power. Monticelso's conflict of interest as both prosecutor and judge underscores how corrupt the system is, and how difficult it is to rise above it. Monticelso and other \"great men\" like him guard the gate to freedom and social betterment, preventing not just a woman like Vittoria, but also a poor man like Flamineo, from achieving what they desire. Monticelso's pretension to an unbiased opinion is most dangerous of all, since it guards him from legitimately reforming. As a result, the system itself is somewhat to blame for inspiring cruelty and crime in the likes of Flamineo, who merely take what path is available to achieve what they feel capable of. And yet, the most pessimistic irony of all is that for all this misuse and perversion of power, Vittoria is arguably guilty of having facilitated the crime, as the audience knows from earlier. Further, she did so through a clever ruse that stroked Brachiano's ego, through the very type of intrigue that frightens men like Monticelso. At the end of Act 3, another parallel occurs in the meeting of Lodovico and Flamineo. Both men could be considered the base villains of the play - they are the primary murderers, they both toe the line between knave and gentility, and they both unhappily work for \"great men.\" Their meeting provides the audience with cue to follow their story, to see how their paths deviate. Finally, Webster uses an interesting device when Lodovico notes that \"Fortune's wheel\" has spun in his favor. This allusion to Fortune's wheel evokes a torture wheel which, to men of their position, also applies. Misfortune can be tantamount to torture, and Lodovico may, by the end of the play, undergo actual torture for his part in the murders."}
text: ACT III SCENE I
  
  
  Enter Francisco de Medicis, and Monticelso, their Chancellor and Register
  
  
  Fran.   You have dealt discreetly, to obtain the presence
    Of all the great lieger ambassadors
    To hear Vittoria's trial.
  
  
  Mont.   'Twas not ill;
    For, sir, you know we have naught but circumstances
    To charge her with, about her husband's death:
    Their approbation, therefore, to the proofs
    Of her black lust shall make her infamous
    To all our neighbouring kingdoms.  I wonder
    If Brachiano will be here?
  
  
  Fran.   Oh, fie!  'Twere impudence too palpable.                 [Exeunt.
  
  
  Enter Flamineo and Marcello guarded, and a Lawyer
  
  
  Lawyer.   What, are you in by the week?  So--I will try now whether they
    wit be close prisoner--methinks none should sit upon thy sister, but
    old whore-masters----
  
  
  Flam.   Or cuckolds; for your cuckold is your most terrible tickler of
    lechery.  Whore-masters would serve; for none are judges at tilting,
    but those that have been old tilters.
  
  
  Lawyer.   My lord duke and she have been very private.
  
  
  Flam.   You are a dull ass; 'tis threatened they have been very public.
  
  
  Lawyer.   If it can be proved they have but kissed one another----
  
  
  Flam.   What then?
  
  
  Lawyer.   My lord cardinal will ferret them.
  
  
  Flam.   A cardinal, I hope, will not catch conies.
  
  
  Lawyer.   For to sow kisses (mark what I say), to sow kisses is to reap
    lechery; and, I am sure, a woman that will endure kissing is half won.
  
  
  Flam.   True, her upper part, by that rule; if you will win her neither
    part too, you know what follows.
  
  
  Lawyer.   Hark! the ambassadors are 'lighted----
  
  
  Flam.   I do put on this feigned garb of mirth,
    To gull suspicion.
  
  
  Marc.   Oh, my unfortunate sister!
    I would my dagger-point had cleft her heart
    When she first saw Brachiano: you, 'tis said,
    Were made his engine, and his stalking horse,
    To undo my sister.
  
  
  Flam.   I am a kind of path
    To her and mine own preferment.
  
  
  Marc.   Your ruin.
  
  
  Flam.   Hum! thou art a soldier,
    Followest the great duke, feed'st his victories,
    As witches do their serviceable spirits,
    Even with thy prodigal blood: what hast got?
    But, like the wealth of captains, a poor handful,
    Which in thy palm thou bear'st, as men hold water;
    Seeking to grip it fast, the frail reward
    Steals through thy fingers.
  
  
  Marc.   Sir!
  
  
  Flam.   Thou hast scarce maintenance
    To keep thee in fresh chamois.
  
  
  Marc.   Brother!
  
  
  Flam.   Hear me:
    And thus, when we have even pour'd ourselves
    Into great fights, for their ambition,
    Or idle spleen, how shall we find reward?
    But as we seldom find the mistletoe,
    Sacred to physic, or the builder oak,
    Without a mandrake by it; so in our quest of gain,
    Alas, the poorest of their forc'd dislikes
    At a limb proffers, but at heart it strikes!
    This is lamented doctrine.
  
  
  Marc.   Come, come.
  
  
  Flam.   When age shall turn thee
    White as a blooming hawthorn----
  
  
  Marc.   I 'll interrupt you:
    For love of virtue bear an honest heart,
    And stride o'er every politic respect,
    Which, where they most advance, they most infect.
    Were I your father, as I am your brother,
    I should not be ambitious to leave you
    A better patrimony.
  
  
  Flam.   I 'll think on 't.                       [Enter Savoy Ambassador.
    The lord ambassadors.
  
  
  [Here there is a passage of the Lieger Ambassadors over the stage
    severally.
  
  
  Enter French Ambassador
  
  
  Lawyer.   Oh, my sprightly Frenchman!  Do you know him? he 's an
    admirable tilter.
  
  
  Flam.   I saw him at last tilting: he showed like a pewter candlestick
    fashioned like a man in armour, holding a tilting staff in his hand,
    little bigger than a candle of twelve i' th' pound.
  
  
  Lawyer.   Oh, but he's an excellent horseman!
  
  
  Flam.   A lame one in his lofty tricks; he sleeps a-horseback, like a
    poulterer.
  
  
  Enter English and Spanish
  
  
  Lawyer.   Lo you, my Spaniard!
  
  
  Flam.   He carried his face in 's ruff, as I have seen a serving-man
    carry glasses in a cypress hatband, monstrous steady, for fear of
    breaking; he looks like the claw of a blackbird, first salted, and
    then broiled in a candle.                                      [Exeunt.
  
  
  
  SCENE II
  
  
  The Arraignment of Vittoria
  
  
  Enter Francisco, Monticelso, the six Lieger Ambassadors, Brachiano,
    Vittoria, Zanche, Flamineo, Marcello, Lawyer, and a Guard.
  
  
  Mont.   Forbear, my lord, here is no place assign'd you.
    This business, by his Holiness, is left
    To our examination.
  
  
  Brach.   May it thrive with you.             [Lays a rich gown under him.
  
  
  Fran.   A chair there for his Lordship.
  
  
  Brach.   Forbear your kindness: an unbidden guest
    Should travel as Dutch women go to church,
    Bear their stools with them.
  
  
  Mont.   At your pleasure, sir.
    Stand to the table, gentlewoman.  Now, signior,
    Fall to your plea.
  
  
  Lawyer.   Domine judex, converte oculos in hanc pestem, mulierum
    corruptissiman.
  
  
  Vit.   What 's he?
  
  
  Fran.   A lawyer that pleads against you.
  
  
  Vit.   Pray, my lord, let him speak his usual tongue,
    I 'll make no answer else.
  
  
  Fran.   Why, you understand Latin.
  
  
  Vit.   I do, sir, but amongst this auditory
    Which come to hear my cause, the half or more
    May be ignorant in 't.
  
  
  Mont.   Go on, sir.
  
  
  Vit.   By your favour,
    I will not have my accusation clouded
    In a strange tongue: all this assembly
    Shall hear what you can charge me with.
  
  
  Fran.   Signior,
    You need not stand on 't much; pray, change your language.
  
  
  Mont.   Oh, for God's sake--Gentlewoman, your credit
    Shall be more famous by it.
  
  
  Lawyer.   Well then, have at you.
  
  
  Vit.   I am at the mark, sir; I 'll give aim to you,
    And tell you how near you shoot.
  
  
  Lawyer.   Most literated judges, please your lordships
    So to connive your judgments to the view
    Of this debauch'd and diversivolent woman;
    Who such a black concatenation
    Of mischief hath effected, that to extirp
    The memory of 't, must be the consummation
    Of her, and her projections----
  
  
  Vit.   What 's all this?
  
  
  Lawyer.   Hold your peace!
    Exorbitant sins must have exulceration.
  
  
  Vit.   Surely, my lords, this lawyer here hath swallow'd
    Some 'pothecaries' bills, or proclamations;
    And now the hard and undigestible words
    Come up, like stones we use give hawks for physic.
    Why, this is Welsh to Latin.
  
  
  Lawyer.   My lords, the woman
    Knows not her tropes, nor figures, nor is perfect
    In the academic derivation
    Of grammatical elocution.
  
  
  Fran.   Sir, your pains
    Shall be well spar'd, and your deep eloquence
    Be worthily applauded amongst thouse
    Which understand you.
  
  
  Lawyer.   My good lord.
  
  
  Fran.   Sir,
    Put up your papers in your fustian bag--
                                        [Francisco speaks this as in scorn.
    Cry mercy, sir, 'tis buckram and accept
    My notion of your learn'd verbosity.
  
  
  Lawyer.   I most graduatically thank your lordship:
    I shall have use for them elsewhere.
  
  
  Mont.   I shall be plainer with you, and paint out
    Your follies in more natural red and white
    Than that upon your cheek.
  
  
  Vit.   Oh, you mistake!
    You raise a blood as noble in this cheek
    As ever was your mother's.
  
  
  Mont.   I must spare you, till proof cry whore to that.
    Observe this creature here, my honour'd lords,
    A woman of must prodigious spirit,
    In her effected.
  
  
  Vit.   My honourable lord,
    It doth not suit a reverend cardinal
    To play the lawyer thus.
  
  
  Mont.   Oh, your trade instructs your language!
    You see, my lords, what goodly fruit she seems;
    Yet like those apples travellers report
    To grow where Sodom and Gomorrah stood,
    I will but touch her, and you straight shall see
    She 'll fall to soot and ashes.
  
  
  Vit.   Your envenom'd 'pothecary should do 't.
  
  
  Mont.   I am resolv'd,
    Were there a second paradise to lose,
    This devil would betray it.
  
  
  Vit.   O poor Charity!
    Thou art seldom found in scarlet.
  
  
  Mont.   Who knows not how, when several night by night
    Her gates were chok'd with coaches, and her rooms
    Outbrav'd the stars with several kind of lights;
    When she did counterfeit a prince's court
    In music, banquets, and most riotous surfeits;
    This whore forsooth was holy.
  
  
  Vit.   Ha! whore! what 's that?
  
  
  Mont.   Shall I expound whore to you? sure I shall;
    I 'll give their perfect character.  They are first,
    Sweetmeats which rot the eater; in man's nostrils
    Poison'd perfumes.  They are cozening alchemy;
    Shipwrecks in calmest weather.  What are whores!
    Cold Russian winters, that appear so barren,
    As if that nature had forgot the spring.
    They are the true material fire of hell:
    Worse than those tributes i' th' Low Countries paid,
    Exactions upon meat, drink, garments, sleep,
    Ay, even on man's perdition, his sin.
    They are those brittle evidences of law,
    Which forfeit all a wretched man's estate
    For leaving out one syllable.  What are whores!
    They are those flattering bells have all one tune,
    At weddings, and at funerals.  Your rich whores
    Are only treasures by extortion fill'd,
    And emptied by curs'd riot.  They are worse,
    Worse than dead bodies which are begg'd at gallows,
    And wrought upon by surgeons, to teach man
    Wherein he is imperfect.  What's a whore!
    She 's like the guilty counterfeited coin,
    Which, whosoe'er first stamps it, brings in trouble
    All that receive it.
  
  
  Vit.   This character 'scapes me.
  
  
  Mont.   You, gentlewoman!
    Take from all beasts and from all minerals
    Their deadly poison----
  
  
  Vit.   Well, what then?
  
  
  Mont.   I 'll tell thee;
    I 'll find in thee a 'pothecary's shop,
    To sample them all.
  
  
  Fr. Ambass.   She hath liv'd ill.
  
  
  Eng. Ambass.   True, but the cardinal 's too bitter.
  
  
  Mont.   You know what whore is.  Next the devil adultery,
    Enters the devil murder.
  
  
  Fran.   Your unhappy husband
    Is dead.
  
  
  Vit.   Oh, he 's a happy husband!
    Now he owes nature nothing.
  
  
  Fran.   And by a vaulting engine.
  
  
  Mont.   An active plot; he jump'd into his grave.
  
  
  Fran.   What a prodigy was 't,
    That from some two yards' height, a slender man
    Should break his neck!
  
  
  Mont.   I' th' rushes!
  
  
  Fran.   And what's more,
    Upon the instant lose all use of speech,
    All vital motion, like a man had lain
    Wound up three days.  Now mark each circumstance.
  
  
  Mont.   And look upon this creature was his wife!
    She comes not like a widow; she comes arm'd
    With scorn and impudence: is this a mourning-habit?
  
  
  Vit.   Had I foreknown his death, as you suggest,
    I would have bespoke my mourning.
  
  
  Mont.   Oh, you are cunning!
  
  
  Vit.   You shame your wit and judgment,
    To call it so.  What! is my just defence
    By him that is my judge call'd impudence?
    Let me appeal then from this Christian court,
    To the uncivil Tartar.
  
  
  Mont.   See, my lords,
    She scandals our proceedings.
  
  
  Vit.   Humbly thus,
    Thus low to the most worthy and respected
    Lieger ambassadors, my modesty
    And womanhood I tender; but withal,
    So entangled in a curs'd accusation,
    That my defence, of force, like Perseus,
    Must personate masculine virtue.  To the point.
    Find me but guilty, sever head from body,
    We 'll part good friends: I scorn to hold my life
    At yours, or any man's entreaty, sir.
  
  
  Eng. Ambass.   She hath a brave spirit.
  
  
  Mont.   Well, well, such counterfeit jewels
    Make true ones oft suspected.
  
  
  Vit.   You are deceiv'd:
    For know, that all your strict-combined heads,
    Which strike against this mine of diamonds,
    Shall prove but glassen hammers: they shall break.
    These are but feigned shadows of my evils.
    Terrify babes, my lord, with painted devils,
    I am past such needless palsy.  For your names
    Of 'whore' and 'murderess', they proceed from you,
    As if a man should spit against the wind,
    The filth returns in 's face.
  
  
  Mont.   Pray you, mistress, satisfy me one question:
    Who lodg'd beneath your roof that fatal night
    Your husband broke his neck?
  
  
  Brach.   That question
    Enforceth me break silence: I was there.
  
  
  Mont.   Your business?
  
  
  Brach.   Why, I came to comfort he,
    And take some course for settling her estate,
    Because I heard her husband was in debt
    To you, my lord.
  
  
  Mont.   He was.
  
  
  Brach.   And 'twas strangely fear'd,
    That you would cozen her.
  
  
  Mont.   Who made you overseer?
  
  
  Brach.   Why, my charity, my charity, which should flow
    From every generous and noble spirit,
    To orphans and to widows.
  
  
  Mont.   Your lust!
  
  
  Brach.   Cowardly dogs bark loudest: sirrah priest,
    I 'll talk with you hereafter.  Do you hear?
    The sword you frame of such an excellent temper,
    I 'll sheath in your own bowels.
    There are a number of thy coat resemble
    Your common post-boys.
  
  
  Mont.   Ha!
  
  
  Brach.   Your mercenary post-boys;
    Your letters carry truth, but 'tis your guise
    To fill your mouths with gross and impudent lies.
  
  
  Servant.   My lord, your gown.
  
  
  Brach.   Thou liest, 'twas my stool:
    Bestow 't upon thy master, that will challenge
    The rest o' th' household-stuff; for Brachiano
    Was ne'er so beggarly to take a stool
    Out of another's lodging: let him make
    Vallance for his bed on 't, or a demy foot-cloth
    For his most reverend moil.  Monticelso,
    Nemo me impune lacessit.                                         [Exit.
  
  
  Mont.   Your champion's gone.
  
  
  Vit.   The wolf may prey the better.
  
  
  Fran.   My lord, there 's great suspicion of the murder,
    But no sound proof who did it.  For my part,
    I do not think she hath a soul so black
    To act a deed so bloody; if she have,
    As in cold countries husbandmen plant vines,
    And with warm blood manure them; even so
    One summer she will bear unsavoury fruit,
    And ere next spring wither both branch and root.
    The act of blood let pass; only descend
    To matters of incontinence.
  
  
  Vit.   I discern poison
    Under your gilded pills.
  
  
  Mont.   Now the duke's gone, I will produce a letter
    Wherein 'twas plotted, he and you should meet
    At an apothecary's summer-house,
    Down by the River Tiber,--view 't, my lords,
    Where after wanton bathing and the heat
    Of a lascivious banquet--I pray read it,
    I shame to speak the rest.
  
  
  Vit.   Grant I was tempted;
    Temptation to lust proves not the act:
    Casta est quam nemo rogavit.
    You read his hot love to me, but you want
    My frosty answer.
  
  
  Mont.   Frost i' th' dog-days! strange!
  
  
  Vit.   Condemn you me for that the duke did love me?
    So may you blame some fair and crystal river,
    For that some melancholic distracted man
    Hath drown'd himself in 't.
  
  
  Mont.   Truly drown'd, indeed.
  
  
  Vit.   Sum up my faults, I pray, and you shall find,
    That beauty and gay clothes, a merry heart,
    And a good stomach to feast, are all,
    All the poor crimes that you can charge me with.
    In faith, my lord, you might go pistol flies,
    The sport would be more noble.
  
  
  Mont.  Very good.
  
  
  Vit.   But take your course: it seems you 've beggar'd me first,
    And now would fain undo me.  I have houses,
    Jewels, and a poor remnant of crusadoes;
    Would those would make you charitable!
  
  
  Mont.   If the devil
    Did ever take good shape, behold his picture.
  
  
  Vit.   You have one virtue left,
    You will not flatter me.
  
  
  Fran.   Who brought this letter?
  
  
  Vit.   I am not compell'd to tell you.
  
  
  Mont.   My lord duke sent to you a thousand ducats
    The twelfth of August.
  
  
  Vit.   'Twas to keep your cousin
    From prison; I paid use for 't.
  
  
  Mont.   I rather think,
    'Twas interest for his lust.
  
  
  Vit.   Who says so but yourself?
    If you be my accuser,
    Pray cease to be my judge: come from the bench;
    Give in your evidence 'gainst me, and let these
    Be moderators.  My lord cardinal,
    Were your intelligencing ears as loving
    As to my thoughts, had you an honest tongue,
    I would not care though you proclaim'd them all.
  
  
  Mont.   Go to, go to.
    After your goodly and vainglorious banquet,
    I 'll give you a choke-pear.
  
  
  Vit.   O' your own grafting?
  
  
  Mont.   You were born in Venice, honourably descended
    From the Vittelli: 'twas my cousin's fate,
    Ill may I name the hour, to marry you;
    He bought you of your father.
  
  
  Vit.   Ha!
  
  
  Mont.   He spent there in six months
    Twelve thousand ducats, and (to my acquaintance)
    Receiv'd in dowry with you not one Julio:
    'Twas a hard pennyworth, the ware being so light.
    I yet but draw the curtain; now to your picture:
    You came from thence a most notorious strumpet,
    And so you have continued.
  
  
  Vit.   My lord!
  
  
  Mont.   Nay, hear me,
    You shall have time to prate.  My Lord Brachiano--
    Alas!  I make but repetition
    Of what is ordinary and Rialto talk,
    And ballated, and would be play'd a' th' stage,
    But that vice many times finds such loud friends,
    That preachers are charm'd silent.
    You, gentlemen, Flamineo and Marcello,
    The Court hath nothing now to charge you with,
    Only you must remain upon your sureties
    For your appearance.
  
  
  Fran.   I stand for Marcello.
  
  
  Flam.   And my lord duke for me.
  
  
  Mont.   For you, Vittoria, your public fault,
    Join'd to th' condition of the present time,
    Takes from you all the fruits of noble pity,
    Such a corrupted trial have you made
    Both of your life and beauty, and been styl'd
    No less an ominous fate than blazing stars
    To princes.  Hear your sentence: you are confin'd
    Unto a house of convertites, and your bawd----
  
  
  Flam.   [Aside.]  Who, I?
  
  
  Mont.   The Moor.
  
  
  Flam.   [Aside.]  Oh, I am a sound man again.
  
  
  Vit.   A house of convertites! what 's that?
  
  
  Mont.   A house of penitent whores.
  
  
  Vit.   Do the noblemen in Rome
    Erect it for their wives, that I am sent
    To lodge there?
  
  
  Fran.   You must have patience.
  
  
  Vit.   I must first have vengeance!
    I fain would know if you have your salvation
    By patent, that you proceed thus.
  
  
  Mont.   Away with her,
    Take her hence.
  
  
  Vit.   A rape! a rape!
  
  
  Mont.   How?
  
  
  Vit.   Yes, you have ravish'd justice;
    Forc'd her to do your pleasure.
  
  
  Mont.   Fie, she 's mad----
  
  
  Vit.   Die with those pills in your most cursed maw,
    Should bring you health! or while you sit o' th' bench,
    Let your own spittle choke you!
  
  
  Mont.   She 's turned fury.
  
  
  Vit.   That the last day of judgment may so find you,
    And leave you the same devil you were before!
    Instruct me, some good horse-leech, to speak treason;
    For since you cannot take my life for deeds,
    Take it for words.  O woman's poor revenge,
    Which dwells but in the tongue!  I will not weep;
    No, I do scorn to call up one poor tear
    To fawn on your injustice: bear me hence
    Unto this house of--what's your mitigating title?
  
  
  Mont.   Of convertites.
  
  
  Vit.   It shall not be a house of convertites;
    My mind shall make it honester to me
    Than the Pope's palace, and more peaceable
    Than thy soul, though thou art a cardinal.
    Know this, and let it somewhat raise your spite,
    Through darkness diamonds spread their richest light.            [Exit.
  
  
  Enter Brachiano
  
  
  Brach.   Now you and I are friends, sir, we'll shake hands
    In a friend's grave together; a fit place,
    Being th' emblem of soft peace, t' atone our hatred.
  
  
  Fran.   Sir, what 's the matter?
  
  
  Brach.  I will not chase more blood from that lov'd cheek;
    You have lost too much already; fare you well.                   [Exit.
  
  
  Fran.   How strange these words sound! what 's the interpretation?
  
  
  Flam.   [Aside.]  Good; this is a preface to the discovery of the
    duchess' death: he carries it well.  Because now I cannot counterfeit
    a whining passion for the death of my lady, I will feign a mad humour
    for the disgrace of my sister; and that will keep off idle questions.
    Treason's tongue hath a villainous palsy in 't; I will talk to any man,
    hear no man, and for a time appear a politic madman.
  
  
  Enter Giovanni, and Count Lodovico
  
  
  Fran.   How now, my noble cousin? what, in black!
  
  
  Giov.   Yes, uncle, I was taught to imitate you
    In virtue, and you must imitate me
    In colours of your garments.  My sweet mother
    Is----
  
  
  Fran.   How? where?
  
  
  Giov.   Is there; no, yonder: indeed, sir, I 'll not tell you,
    For I shall make you weep.
  
  
  Fran.   Is dead?
  
  
  Giov.   Do not blame me now,
    I did not tell you so.
  
  
  Lodo.   She 's dead, my lord.
  
  
  Fran.   Dead!
  
  
  Mont.   Bless'd lady, thou art now above thy woes!
    Will 't please your lordships to withdraw a little?
  
  
  Giov.   What do the dead do, uncle? do they eat,
    Hear music, go a-hunting, and be merry,
    As we that live?
  
  
  Fran.   No, coz; they sleep.
  
  
  Giov.   Lord, Lord, that I were dead!
    I have not slept these six nights.  When do they wake?
  
  
  Fran.   When God shall please.
  
  
  Giov.   Good God, let her sleep ever!
    For I have known her wake an hundred nights,
    When all the pillow where she laid her head
    Was brine-wet with her tears.  I am to complain to you, sir;
    I 'll tell you how they have us'd her now she 's dead:
    They wrapp'd her in a cruel fold of lead,
    And would not let me kiss her.
  
  
  Fran.   Thou didst love her?
  
  
  Giov.   I have often heard her say she gave me suck,
    And it should seem by that she dearly lov'd me,
    Since princes seldom do it.
  
  
  Fran.   Oh, all of my poor sister that remains!
    Take him away for God's sake!                           [Exit Giovanni.
  
  
  Mont.   How now, my lord?
  
  
  Fran.   Believe me, I am nothing but her grave;
    And I shall keep her blessed memory
    Longer than thousand epitaphs.
  
  
  
  SCENE III
  
  
  Enter Flamineo as distracted, Marcello, and Lodovico
  
  
  Flam.   We endure the strokes like anvils or hard steel,
    Till pain itself make us no pain to feel.
    Who shall do me right now? is this the end of service?  I'd rather go
    weed garlic; travel through France, and be mine own ostler; wear
    sheep-skin linings, or shoes that stink of blacking; be entered into
    the list of the forty thousand pedlars in Poland.  [Enter Savoy
    Ambassador.]  Would I had rotted in some surgeon's house at Venice,
    built upon the pox as well as one pines, ere I had served Brachiano!
  
  
  Savoy Ambass.  You must have comfort.
  
  
  Flam.   Your comfortable words are like honey: they relish well in your
    mouth that 's whole, but in mine that 's wounded, they go down as if
    the sting of the bee were in them.  Oh, they have wrought their purpose
    cunningly, as if they would not seem to do it of malice!  In this a
    politician imitates the devil, as the devil imitates a canon;
    wheresoever he comes to do mischief, he comes with his backside towards
    you.
  
  
  Enter French Ambassador
  
  
  Fr. Ambass.   The proofs are evident.
  
  
  Flam.   Proof! 'twas corruption.  O gold, what a god art thou! and O man,
    what a devil art thou to be tempted by that cursed mineral!  Your
    diversivolent lawyer, mark him! knaves turn informers, as maggots turn
    to flies, you may catch gudgeons with either.  A cardinal!  I would he
    would hear me: there 's nothing so holy but money will corrupt and
    putrity it, like victual under the line.  [Enter English Ambassador.]
    You are happy in England, my lord; here they sell justice with those
    weights they press men to death with.  O horrible salary!
  
  
  Eng. Ambass.   Fie, fie, Flamineo.
  
  
  Flam.   Bells ne'er ring well, till they are at their full pitch; and I
    hope yon cardinal shall never have the grace to pray well, till he come
    to the scaffold.  If they were racked now to know the confederacy: but
    your noblemen are privileged from the rack; and well may, for a little
    thing would pull some of them a-pieces afore they came to their
    arraignment.  Religion, oh, how it is commeddled with policy!  The
    first blood shed in the world happened about religion.  Would I were a
    Jew!
  
  
  Marc.   Oh, there are too many!
  
  
  Flam.   You are deceived; there are not Jews enough, priests enough, nor
    gentlemen enough.
  
  
  Marc.   How?
  
  
  Flam.   I 'll prove it; for if there were Jews enough, so many Christians
    would not turn usurers; if priests enough, one should not have six
    benefices; and if gentlemen enough, so many early mushrooms, whose best
    growth sprang from a live by begging: be thou one of them practise the
    art of Wolner in England, to swallow all 's given thee: and yet let one
    purgation make thee as hungry again as fellows that work in a saw-pit.
    I 'll go hear the screech-owl.                                   [Exit.
  
  
  Lodo.   This was Brachiano's pander; and 'tis strange
    That in such open, and apparent guilt
    Of his adulterous sister, he dare utter
    So scandalous a passion.  I must wind him.
  
  
  Re-enter Flamineo.
  
  
  Flam.   How dares this banish'd count return to Rome,
    His pardon not yet purchas'd!  I have heard
    The deceased duchess gave him pension,
    And that he came along from Padua
    I' th' train of the young prince.  There 's somewhat in 't:
    Physicians, that cure poisons, still do work
    With counter-poisons.
  
  
  Marc.   Mark this strange encounter.
  
  
  Flam.   The god of melancholy turn thy gall to poison,
    And let the stigmatic wrinkles in thy face,
    Like to the boisterous waves in a rough tide,
    One still overtake another.
  
  
  Lodo.   I do thank thee,
    And I do wish ingeniously for thy sake,
    The dog-days all year long.
  
  
  Flam.   How croaks the raven?
    Is our good duchess dead?
  
  
  Lodo.   Dead.
  
  
  Flam.   O fate!
    Misfortune comes like the coroner's business
    Huddle upon huddle.
  
  
  Lodo.   Shalt thou and I join housekeeping?
  
  
  Flam.   Yes, content:
    Let 's be unsociably sociable.
  
  
  Lodo.   Sit some three days together, and discourse?
  
  
  Flam.   Only with making faces;
    Lie in our clothes.
  
  
  Lodo.   With faggots for our pillows.
  
  
  Flam.   And be lousy.
  
  
  Lodo.   In taffeta linings, that 's genteel melancholy;
    Sleep all day.
  
  
  Flam.   Yes; and, like your melancholic hare,
    Feed after midnight.                      [Enter Antonelli and Gasparo.
    We are observed: see how yon couple grieve.
  
  
  Lodo.   What a strange creature is a laughing fool!
    As if man were created to no use
    But only to show his teeth.
  
  
  Flam.   I 'll tell thee what,
    It would do well instead of looking-glasses,
    To set one's face each morning by a saucer
    Of a witch's congeal'd blood.
  
  
  Lodo.   Precious rogue!
    We'll never part.
  
  
  Flam.   Never, till the beggary of courtiers,
    The discontent of churchmen, want of soldiers,
    And all the creatures that hang manacled,
    Worse than strappadoed, on the lowest felly
    Of fortune's wheel, be taught, in our two lives,
    To scorn that world which life of means deprives.
  
  
  Ant.   My lord, I bring good news.  The Pope, on 's death bed,
    At th' earnest suit of the great Duke of Florence,
    Hath sign'd your pardon, and restor'd unto you----
  
  
  Lodo.   I thank you for your news.  Look up again,
    Flamineo, see my pardon.
  
  
  Flam.   Why do you laugh?
    There was no such condition in our covenant.
  
  
  Lodo.   Why?
  
  
  Flam.   You shall not seem a happier man than I:
    You know our vow, sir; if you will be merry,
    Do it i' th' like posture, as if some great man
    Sat while his enemy were executed:
    Though it be very lechery unto thee,
    Do 't with a crabbed politician's face.
  
  
  Lodo.   Your sister is a damnable whore.
  
  
  Flam.   Ha!
  
  
  Lodo.   Look you, I spake that laughing.
  
  
  Flam.   Dost ever think to speak again?
  
  
  Lodo.   Do you hear?
    Wilt sell me forty ounces of her blood
    To water a mandrake?
  
  
  Flam.   Poor lord, you did vow
    To live a lousy creature.
  
  
  Lodo.   Yes.
  
  
  Flam.   Like one
    That had for ever forfeited the daylight,
    By being in debt.
  
  
  Lodo.   Ha, ha!
  
  
  Flam.   I do not greatly wonder you do break,
    Your lordship learn'd 't long since.  But I 'll tell you.
  
  
  Lodo.   What?
  
  
  Flam.   And 't shall stick by you.
  
  
  Lodo.   I long for it.
  
  
  Flam.   This laughter scurvily becomes your face:
    If you will not be melancholy, be angry.                  [Strikes him.
    See, now I laugh too.
  
  
  Marc.   You are to blame: I 'll force you hence.
  
  
  Lodo.   Unhand me.                         [Exeunt Marcello and Flamineo.
    That e'er I should be forc'd to right myself,
    Upon a pander!
  
  
  Ant.   My lord.
  
  
  Lodo.   H' had been as good met with his fist a thunderbolt.
  
  
  Gas.   How this shows!
  
  
  Lodo.   Ud's death! how did my sword miss him?
    These rogues that are most weary of their lives
    Still 'scape the greatest dangers.
    A pox upon him; all his reputation,
    Nay, all the goodness of his family,
    Is not worth half this earthquake:
    I learn'd it of no fencer to shake thus:
    Come, I 'll forget him, and go drink some wine.
                                                                   [Exeunt.
  
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Act 3
target: Act 3 opens in Rome, as Francisco and Monticelso prepare Vittoria's trial for the murder of Camillo. As their Chancellor and Register physically set the stage for the trial, Francisco and Monticelso discuss how they will blacken Vittoria's name, despite their lack of concrete evidence. The four men soon leave, and Flamineo, Marcello, and a Lawyer enter. The lawyer chides the two brothers, explaining that Vittoria will be easily convicted if any evidence exists showing she has even kissed Brachiano. Flamineo jokes with the lawyer, twisting his words around to make sexual innuendos in order to prevent suspicion of his own guilt in the matter. Marcello, however, is in a miserable mood, and chastises his brother for helping Brachiano and Vittoria enact their illicit schemes. Flamineo counters that his goal was always to better his and Vittoria's fortunes. He criticizes Marcello for serving Francisco for very little money, but Marcello interrupts and insults him. At that moment, several foreign ambassadors, who are to judge the trial, walk across the stage. The Savoy Ambassador enters first, followed by the French Ambassador. The Lawyer and Flamineo mockingly discuss the French Ambassador's talent for tilting, which is also a pun for sexual intercourse, and Flamineo further describes him as impotent. The England and Spanish Ambassadors arrive last, and Flamineo insults them to himself. Everyone exits. Scene 2 Scene 2 presents Vittoria's arraignment. It begins as Francisco, Monticelso, the Ambassadors, Brachiano, Vittoria, Zanche, Flamineo, Marcello, the Lawyer, and a guard file in. Monticelso explains to Brachiano that there is no chair for him, so Brachiano lays a rich gown underneath himself as a place to rest. Monticelso then calls Vittoria and Zanche to the stand, and the lawyer enters a plea against them in Latin. Vittoria asks for the lawyer to speak in his "usual tongue" so that the spectators can understand. She believes that Latin will cloud the trial and judgment. Francisco grants the request, so the lawyer, searching for large, Latin-esque words, delivers a flowery, nonsensical rant against Vittoria. Vittoria protests, and Francisco dismisses the lawyer. Monticelso now takes control of the prosecution, accusing Vittoria of being a whore. When Vittoria asks him to elucidate his meaning, he compares whores alternately to poisoned perfumes, Russian winters, high taxes, and counterfeit money. When Vittoria denies the charge, the ambassadors discuss the case, concluding that she has lived "ill," but that Monticelso is also "too bitter" to be trusted as impartial. Together, Francisco and Monticelso present the case claiming that Vittoria killed Camillo. In her defense, Vittoria kneels before the ambassadors and begs forgiveness for her strong, masculine assertions and personality. The ambassadors are impressed by her bravery, and Vittoria triumphantly tells Monticelso that the insults he used towards her are easily leveled back at him. To further implicate Vittoria, Monticelso asks her who was in her home the night her husband was murdered. Brachiano stands up and admits to being there, but claims that he was trying to help Camillo settle his debt to Monticelso. When Monticelso accuses Brachiano of indulging his lust, Brachiano insults Monticelso and leaves the courtroom, leaving his rich coat behind. Francisco asserts that the prosecution lacks sufficient evidence to convict Vittoria, and moreover believes her soul is not "black" enough to commit such a deed. In answer, Monticelso produces a letter from Brachiano to Vittoria, which entreats her to join him at a summer-house. Vittoria reminds him that they have only his invitation and not her "frosty" response to it, and so the letter proves only his lust, and not her sin. Vittoria claims she has only committed petty sins, and that Monticelso is accusing her unsympathetically and unfairly. Monticelso next reveals that Brachiano gave Vittoria money, which she claims was meant to pay her husband's debt. She insists Monticelso cannot fairly act as both prosecutor and impartial judge, and appeals to both the ambassadors and the audience for judgment instead. Monticelso then tells the story of Camillo's marriage to Vittoria, claiming Camillo received no money from her dowry, and that she had always acted like a whore. Monticelso prepares to pass judgment. He first tells Flamineo and Marcello that they must stay nearby even though he does not yet have evidence with which to charge them of a crime. He then sentences Vittoria to a "house of convertites," a home for penitent prostitutes. Vittoria screams for vengeance and insists Monticelso has raped Justice as she is led away. Brachiano enters, dazed and upset. He says a few mysterious and mournful words to Francisco before leaving again. Aside, Flamineo congratulates Brachiano on his performance, and resolves to also act like he is mad with grief other Vittoria's punishment so that nobody will think him guilty of anything. He exits, and Lodovico and Giovanni enter together. Dressed in black, Giovanni reveals to his uncle that Isabella is dead. The ambassadors leave the stage at Monticelso's request, and Giovanni mourns his mother's death, asking Francisco what happens to the dead. Deeply upset, Francisco sends Giovanni and Lodovico away so that he may mourn Isabella's death privately. Scene 3 Flamineo enters, acting distracted and insane as planned in the previous scene. When Marcello and Lodovico follow him, Flamineo gripes about his misfortune, listing all the situations he'd prefer to serving Brachiano. The Savoy Ambassador enters and tries to console Flamineo, but he rebuffs the condolences. The French Ambassador then enters and argues that the proof of guilt was clear, but Flamineo accuses Monticelso of being corrupt and using bribes. The English Ambassador enters and Flamineo continues cursing at Monticelso. All three ambassadors leave, and Flamineo subtly insults Marcello, partly by referencing Cain's murder of Abel. Flamineo then leaves the stage. Aside, Lodovico comments on Flamineo's scandalous words, and resolves to learn more of the man. Flamineo re-enters, wondering how and why Lodovico is back, since he is still officially banished. The two men exchange subtle insults. Gasparo and Antonelli enter, laughing. Flamineo refers sarcastically to the "grieving" couple, while he and Lodovico exchange a few more insults and then make a pact to stop arguing. Antonelli tells Lodovico that the Pope, on his deathbed, has signed Lodovico's pardon. Rejoicing in his good fortune, Lodovico breaks with Flamineo and calls Vittoria a whore. Flamineo strikes Lodovico, and Marcello drags him away. Lodovico is upset to have been hit by Flamineo, whom he considers a low-class pimp. Nonetheless, he resolves to forget the insult and get drunk instead.
feat_summary_analysis: Act 3 is the center of the narrative action. Most of the act, which is divided into smaller scenes mostly for convenience and could be performed as a continuous scene, is concerned with Vittoria's trial.  This central event allows Webster to explore and express most of his play's major themes in an explicit fashion, and it also showcases how deeply Webster's pessimism runs. A woman's lack of agency is quite clear in the trial, both through the story and through the theatricality. One interesting aspect is how the trial deepens Vittoria's character, and explores her as more than just a lover or sensual figure. She demonstrates intelligence and power by commanding that her lawyer not speak in Latin. She wants the trial to be clear for everyone, and although she knows Latin , she fears the esoteric language will alienate those to whom she might appeal for justice. Unfortunately, though her clever use of power does get the Lawyer eliminated, Cardinal Monticelsco quickly seizes what power she has. One other way that the trial explores a woman's position is through an interesting theatrical device. In describing the stage, Webster writes that Isabella is amongst those watching, even though she died in the previous act. While this could be simply a slip-up, it is also possible that Isabella and Zanche were meant to be played by the same actress. This casting would connect the two women in the audience's minds, and thereby connect Isabella and Vittoria. Although they are often presented as polar opposites, one being a whore and the other a martyr, it is also possible to argue that their similarities as women are more significant those those differences.  Each woman has a complex mix of vice and virtue within her, and both women are ultimately victims of male desires and social forces. The most overpowering impression left by the trial is the intense misogyny that is personified through Monticelso. Though he admits that he has no concrete proof, he energetically seeks conviction solely on arguments that attack her character, focusing on her misuse of female sexuality. Vittoria has many logical arguments - she says one cannot blame a river for a man's suicide, for instance - but as she notes, a woman can only find revenge through words whereas men can exploit fears of cuckoldry or contempt for overly-sexualized women as tools. When she apologizes to the judges for having appeared too masculine, it is a last ditch effort to acknowledge why she is being persecuted and then hopefully help them transcend their prejudices. And of course, the trial reveals a blatant misuse of power. Monticelso's conflict of interest as both prosecutor and judge underscores how corrupt the system is, and how difficult it is to rise above it. Monticelso and other "great men" like him guard the gate to freedom and social betterment, preventing not just a woman like Vittoria, but also a poor man like Flamineo, from achieving what they desire. Monticelso's pretension to an unbiased opinion is most dangerous of all, since it guards him from legitimately reforming. As a result, the system itself is somewhat to blame for inspiring cruelty and crime in the likes of Flamineo, who merely take what path is available to achieve what they feel capable of. And yet, the most pessimistic irony of all is that for all this misuse and perversion of power, Vittoria is arguably guilty of having facilitated the crime, as the audience knows from earlier. Further, she did so through a clever ruse that stroked Brachiano's ego, through the very type of intrigue that frightens men like Monticelso. At the end of Act 3, another parallel occurs in the meeting of Lodovico and Flamineo. Both men could be considered the base villains of the play - they are the primary murderers, they both toe the line between knave and gentility, and they both unhappily work for "great men." Their meeting provides the audience with cue to follow their story, to see how their paths deviate. Finally, Webster uses an interesting device when Lodovico notes that "Fortune's wheel" has spun in his favor. This allusion to Fortune's wheel evokes a torture wheel which, to men of their position, also applies. Misfortune can be tantamount to torture, and Lodovico may, by the end of the play, undergo actual torture for his part in the murders.