Francisco De Medicis Monologue from The White Devil

From The White Devil by John Webster

male · anguished · 45 sec

I met even now with the most piteous sight. (Flam: Thou meet'st another here, a pitiful Degraded courtier.) Your reverend mother Is grown a very old woman in two hours. I found them winding of Marcello's corse; And there is such a solemn melody, 'Tween doleful songs, tears, and sad elegies; Such as old granddames, watching by the dead, Were wont t' outwear the nights with that, believe me, I had no eyes to guide me forth the room, They were so o'ercharg'd with water. (Flam: I will see them.) 'Twere much uncharity in you; for your sight Will add unto their tears.

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