t of a conjurer

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

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

A Dumb Show

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

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

Brach. Excellent! then she 's dead.

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

Brach. Methought I saw
Count Lodowick there.

Conj. He was; and by my art
I find he did most passionately dote
Upon your duchess. Now turn another way,
And view Camillo's far more polit