THE WHITE DEVIL



TO THE READER



In publishing this tragedy, I do but challenge myself that liberty, which
other men have taken before me; not that I affect praise by it, for, nos
hæc novimus esse nihil, only since it was acted in so dull a time of
winter, presented in so open and black a theatre, that it wanted (that
which is the only grace and setting-out of a tragedy) a full and
understanding auditory; and that since that time I have noted, most of
the people that come to that playhouse resemble those ignorant asses
(who, visiting stationers' shops, their use is not to inquire for good
books, but new books), I present it to the general view with this
confidence:


Nec rhoncos metues maligniorum,
Nec scombris tunicas dabis molestas.


If it be objected this is no true dramatic poem, I shall easily confess
it, non potes in nugas dicere plura meas, ipse ego quam dixi; willingly,
and not ignorantly, in this kind have I faulted: For should a man present
to such an auditory, the most sententious tragedy that ever was written,
observing all the critical laws as height of style, and gravity of
person, enrich it with the sententious Chorus, and, as it were Life and