For all your protestations and your forwardness,
Find out strange fortunes in this lady’s eyes, 135
And new enticements to put off your journey;
And who shall have honour then?
_Mir._ No, no, never fear it:
I must needs see her to receive my legacy.
_Bel._ If it be tied up in her smock, Heaven help thee!
May not we see too?
_Mir._ Yes, afore we go: 140
I must be known myself, ere I be able
To make thee welcome. Wouldst thou see more women?
I thought you had been out of love with all.
_Bel._ I may be
(I find that), with the least encouragement;
Yet I desire to see whether all countries 145
Are naturally possess’d with the same spirits,
For, if they be, I ’ll take a monastery,
And never travel: for I had rather be a friar,
And live mew’d [3629] up, than be a fool, and flouted.
_Mir._ Well, well, I ’ll meet ye anon, then tell you more, boys; 150
However, stand prepared, prest[3630] for our journey;
For certain we shall go, I think, when I have seen her,
And view’d her well.
_Pin._ Go, go, and we ’ll wait for ye;
Your fortune directs ours.
_Bel._ You shall find us i’ th’ tavern,
Lamenting in sack and sugar for our losses. 155
If she be right Italian, and want servants,[3631]
You may prefer the properest man. How I could
Worry a woman now!
_Pin._ Come, come, leave prating:
Ye may have enough to do, without this boasting.
_Exeunt_ [_on one side_, PINAC _and_ BELLEUR; _on the other_ MIRABEL].
SCENE III.[3632]
_Enter_ LUGIER, DE GARD, ROSALURA, _and_ LILLIA BIANCA.
_Lug._ This is the last adventure.
_De Gard._ And the happiest,
As we hope, too.
_Ros._ We should be glad to find it.
_Lil._ Who shall conduct us thither?
_Lug._ Your man is ready.
For I must not be seen; no, nor this gentleman;
That may beget suspicion; all the rest 5
Are people of no doubt. I would have ye, ladies,
Keep your old liberties, and as we instruct ye.
Come, look not pale; you shall not lose your wishes,
Nor beg ’em neither; but be yourselves and happy.
_Ros._ I tell you true, I cannot hold off longer,
Nor give no more hard language.
_De Gard._ You shall not need. 11
_Ros._ I love the gentleman, and must now show it:
Shall I beat a proper man out of heart?
_Lug._ There ’s none advises ye.
_Lil._ Faith, I repent me too.
_Lug._ Repent and spoil all;
Tell what ye know, ye had best!
_Lil._ I ’ll tell what I think; 15
For, if he ask me now if I can love him,
I ’ll tell him, yes, I can. The man’s a kind man,
And out of his true honesty affects me.
Although he play’d the fool, which I requited,
Must I still hold him at the staff’s end?
_Lug._ You are two strange women. 20
_Ros._ We may be, if we fool still.
_Lug._ Dare ye believe me?
Follow but this advice I have set you in now,
And if ye lose—Would ye yield now so basely?
Give up without your honours sav’d?
_De Gard._ Fie, ladies!
Preserve your freedom still.
_Lil._ Well, well, for this time. 25
_Lug._ And carry that full state—
_Ros._ That ’s as the wind stands;
If it begin to chop about, and scant us,
Hang me, but I know what I ’ll do! Come, direct us;
I make no doubt we shall do handsomely.
_De Gard._ Some part o’ th’ way we ’ll wait upon ye, ladies; 30
The rest your man supplies.
_Lug._ Do well, I ’ll honour ye. _Exeunt._
SCENE IV.[3633]
ORIANA [_disguised as an Italian lady,_] _and two_ [_persons disguised
as_] Merchants, [_discovered above._] _Enter_, [_below, the_ Young Man
_disguised as a_] Factor, _and_ MIRABEL.
_Y. Man._ Look ye, sir, there she is; you see how busy.
Methinks you are infinitely bound to her for her journey.
_Mir._ How gloriously she shows! She is a tall woman.
_Y. Man._ Of a fair size, sir. My master not being at home,
I have been so out of my wits to get her company! 5
I mean, sir, of her own fair sex and fashion——
_Mir._ Afar off, she is most fair too.
_Y. Man._ Near, most excellent.—
At length, I have entreated two fair ladies
(And happily you know ’em), the young daughters
Of Monsieur Nantolet.
_Mir._ I know ’em well, sir. 10
What are those? Jewels?
_Y. Man._ All.
_Mir._ They make a rich show.
_Y. Man._ There is a matter of ten thousand pounds, too,
Was owing here. You see those merchants with her;
They have brought it in now.
_Mir._ How handsomely her shape shows!
_Y. Man._ Those are still neat; your Italians are most curious. 15
Now she looks this way.
_Mir._ She has a goodly presence;
How full of courtesy!—Well, sir, I ’ll leave ye;
And, if I may be bold to bring a friend or two,
Good noble gentlemen——
_Y. Man._ No doubt, ye may, sir;
For you have most command.
_Mir._ I have seen a wonder! _Exit._ 20
_Ori._ Is he gone?
_Y. Man._ Yes.
_Ori._ How?
_Y. Man._ Taken to the utmost:
A wonder dwells about him.
_Ori._ He did not guess at me?
_Y. Man._ No, be secure; ye show another woman.
He is gone to fetch his friends.
_Ori._ Where are the gentlewomen?
_Y. Man._ Here, here: now they are come, 25
Sit still, and let them see ye.
_Enter_ [_below_] ROSALURA, LILLIA BIANCA, _and_ Servant.
_Ros._ Pray you, where ’s my friend, sir?
_Y. Man._ She is within, ladies; but here ’s another gentlewoman,
A stranger to this town: so please you visit her,
’T will be well taken.
_Lil._ Where is she?
_Y. Man._ There, above, ladies.
_Serv._ Bless me, what thing is this? Two pinnacles 31
Upon her pate! Is ’t not a glode[3634] to catch woodcocks?
_Ros._ Peace, you rude knave!
_Serv._ What a bouncing bum she has too!
There ’s sail enough for a carrack.[3635]
_Ros._ What is this lady?
For, as I live, she is a goodly woman. 35
_Y. Man._ Guess, guess.
_Lil._ I have not seen a nobler presence.
_Serv._ ’T is a lusty wench: now could I spend my forty-pence,
With all my heart, to have but one fling at her,
To give her but a [s]washing blow.
_Lil._ Ye rascal!
_Serv._ Ay, that ’s all a man has for ’s good will.
’T will be long enough 40
Before ye cry, “Come, Anthony, and kiss me.”
_Lil._ I ’ll have ye whipt.
_Ros._ Has my friend seen this lady?
_Y. Man._ Yes, yes, and is well known to her.
_Ros._ I much admire her presence.
_Lil._ So do I too;
For, I protest, she is the handsomest, 45
The rarest, and the newest to mine eye,
That ever I saw yet.
_Ros._ I long to know her;
My friend shall do that kindness.
_Ori._ So she shall, ladies:
Come, pray ye, come up.
_Ros._ Oh me!
_Lil._ Hang me, if I knew her!—
Were I a man myself, I should now love ye;
Nay, I should dote.
_Ros._ I dare not trust mine eyes; 51
For, as I live, ye are the strangest alter’d!
I must come up to know the truth.
_Serv._ So must I, lady:
For I ’m a kind of unbeliever too.
_Lil._ Get ye gone, sirrah;
And what ye have seen be secret in; you are paid else! 55
No more of your long tongue.
_Y. Man._ Will ye go in, ladies,
And talk with her? These venturers will come straight.
Away with this fellow.
_Lil._ There, sirrah; go, disport you.
_Serv._ I would the trunk-hos’d woman would go with me.
_Exeunt_, [_on one side_, ROSALURA, LILLIA BIANCA, _and the_ Young Man
_disguised as a_ Factor; _on the other_, Servant.]
SCENE V.[3636]
_Enter_ MIRABEL, PINAC, _and_ BELLEUR.
_Pin._ Is she so glorious handsome?
_Mir._ You would wonder;
Our women look like gipsies, like gills[3637] to her;
Their clothes and fashions beggarly and bankrupt,
Base, old, and scurvy.
_Bel._ How looks her face?
_Mir._ Most heavenly; 5
And the becoming motion of her body
So sets her off!
_Bel._ Why then, we shall stay.
_Mir._ Pardon me,
That ’s more than I know. If she be that woman
She appears to be——
_Bel._ As ’t is impossible.
_Mir._ I shall then tell ye more.
_Pin._ Did ye speak to her? 10
_Mir._ No, no. I only saw her; she was busy.
Now I go for that end; and mark her, gentlemen,
If she appear not to ye one of the sweetest,
The handsomest, the fairest in behaviour!
We shall meet the two wenches there too; they come to visit her, 15
To wonder, as we do.
_Pin._ Then we shall meet ’em.
_Bel._ I had rather meet two bears.
_Mir._ There you may take your leaves, despatch that business,
And, as ye find their humours——
_Pin._ Is your love there too?
_Mir._ No, certain; she has no great heart to set out again. 20
This is the house; I ’ll usher ye.
_Bel._ I ’ll bless me,
And take a good-heart, if I can.
_Mir._ Come, nobly. _Exeunt_ [_into the house_].
SCENE VI.[3638]
_Enter_ [_the_ Young Man _disguised as a_] Factor, ROSALURA, LILLIA
BIANCA, _and_ ORIANA [_disguised as before_].
_Y. Man._ They are come in. Sit you two off, as strangers.—
There, lady.—Where ’s the boy?
[_Enter_ Boy.]
Be ready, sirrah,
And clear your pipes.—The music now; they enter. _Music._
_Enter_ MIRABEL, PINAC, _and_ BELLEUR.
_Pin._ What a state she keeps! How far off they sit from her!
How rich she is! Ay, marry, this shows bravely! 5
_Bel._ She is a lusty wench, and may allure a good man;
But, if she have a tongue, I ’ll not give twopence for her.
There sits my Fury; how I shake to see her!
_Y. Man._ Madam, this is the gentleman.
_Mir._ How sweet she kisses!
[MIRABEL _salutes_ ORIANA.]
She has a spring dwells on her lips, a paradise! 10
This is the legacy?
_Song_ [_by the_ Boy, _while he presents a casket to_ MIRABEL].
From the honour’d dead I bring
Thus his love and last off’ring.
Take it nobly, ’t is your due.
From a friendship ever true; 15
From a faith, &c.
_Ori._ Most noble sir,
This from my now-dead brother, as his love,
And grateful memory of your great benefit;
From me my thanks, my wishes, and my service. 20
Till I am more acquainted, I am silent;
Only I dare say this,—you are truly noble.
_Mir._ What should I think?
_Pin._ Think you have a handsome fortune:
Would I had such another!
_Ros._ Ye are all well met, gentlemen;
We hear ye are for travel.
_Pin._ You hear true, lady; 25
And come to take our leaves.
_Lil._ We ’ll along with ye:
We see you are grown so witty by your journey,
We cannot choose but step out too. This lady
We mean to wait upon as far as Italy.
_Bel._ I ’ll travel into Wales, amongst the mountains, 30
In hope they cannot find me.
_Ros._ If you go further,
So good and free society we hold ye,
We ’ll jog along too.
_Pin._ Are you so valiant, lady?
_Lil._ And we ’ll be merry, sir, and laugh.
_Pin._ It may be
We ’ll go by sea.
_Lil._ Why, ’t is the only voyage! 35
I love a sea-voyage, and a blust’ring tempest:
And let all split!
_Pin._ This is a dainty damosel!—
I think ’t will tame ye. Can ye ride post?
_Lil._ Oh, excellently! I am never weary that way:
A hundred mile a day is nothing with me. 40
_Bel._ I ’ll travel under ground. Do you hear, sweet lady?
I find it will be dangerous for a woman.
_Ros._ No danger, sir, I warrant; I love to be under.
_Bel._ I see she will abuse me all the world over.—
But say we pass through Germany, and drink hard? 45
_Ros._ We ’ll learn to drink, and swagger too.
_Bel._ She ’ll beat me!—
Lady, I ’ll live-at home.
_Ros._ And I ’ll live with thee;
And we ’ll keep house together.
_Bel._ I ’ll keep hounds first:
And those I hate right heartily.
_Pin._ I go for Turkey;
And so, it may be, up into Persia. 50
_Lil._ We cannot know too much; I ’ll travel with ye.
_Pin._ And you ’ll abuse me?
_Lil._ Like enough.
_Pin._ ’T is dainty!
_Bel._ I will live in a bawdy-house.
_Ros._ I dare come to you.
_Bel._ Say I am dispos’d to hang myself?
_Ros._ There I ’ll leave you.
_Bel._ I am glad I know how to avoid you.
_Mir._ May I speak yet?
_Y. Man._ She beckons to ye. 56
_Mir._ Lady, I could wish I knew to recompense,
Even with the service of my life, those pains,
And those high favours you have thrown upon me:
Till I be more desertful in your eye, 60
And till my duty shall make known I honour ye,
Noblest of women, do me but this favour,
To accept this back again as a poor testimony.
[_Offering the casket._]
_Ori._ I must have you too with ’em; else the will,
That says they must rest with ye, is infring’d, sir; 65
Which, pardon me, I dare not do.
_Mir._ Take me then,
And take me with the truest love.
_Ori._ ’T is certain
My brother lov’d ye dearly, and I ought
As dearly to preserve that love: but, sir,
Though I were willing, these are but your ceremonies. 70
_Mir._ As I have life, I speak my soul!
_Ori._ I like ye:
But how you can like me, without having testimony,
A stranger to ye——
_Mir._ I ’ll marry ye immediately;
A fair state[3639] I dare promise ye.
_Bel._ Yet she ’ll cozen thee.
_Ori._ Would some fair gentleman durst promise for ye! 75
_Mir._ By all that’s good——
_Enter_ LA CASTRE, NANTOLET, LUGIER and DE GARD.
_La Cast., Nant., &c._ And we ’ll make up the rest, lady.
_Ori._ Then Oriana takes ye! Nay, she has caught ye;
If ye start now, let all the world cry shame on ye!
I have out-travell’d ye.
_Bel._ Did not I say she would cheat thee? 80
_Mir._ I thank ye: I am pleas’d ye have deceiv’d me,
And willingly I swallow it, and joy in ’t;
And yet, perhaps, I knew[3640] ye. Whose plot was this?
_Lug._ He is not asham’d that cast[3641] it; he that executed,
Follow’d your father’s will.
_Mir._ What a world’s this! 85
Nothing but craft and cozenage!
_Ori._ Who begun, sir?
_Mir._ Well; I do take thee upon mere compassion;
And I do think I shall love thee. As a testimony,
I ’ll burn my book, and turn a new leaf over.
But these fine clothes you shall wear still.
_Ori._ I obey you, sir, in all. 90
_Nant._ And how, how, daughters? What say
you to these gentlemen?—
What say ye, gentlemen, to the girls?
_Pin._ By my troth—if she can love me—
_Lil._ How long?
_Pin._ Nay, if once ye love——
_Lil._ Then take me,
And take your chance.
_Pin._ Most willingly: ye are mine, lady;
And, if I use ye not that ye may love me—— 95
_Lil._ A match, i’ faith.
_Pin._ Why, now ye travel with me.
_Ros._ How that thing stands!
_Bel._ It will, if ye urge it:
Bless your five wits!
_Ros._ Nay, prithee, stay; I ’ll have thee.
_Bel._ You must ask me leave first.
_Ros._ Wilt thou use me kindly,
And beat me but once a week?
_Bel._ If you deserve no more. 100
_Ros._ And wilt thou get me with child?
_Bel._ Dost thou ask me seriously?
_Ros._ Yes, indeed, do I.
_Bel._ Yes, I will get thee with child. Come, presently,
An ’t be but in revenge, I ’ll do thee that courtesy. 105
Well, if thou wilt fear God and me, have at thee!
_Ros._ I ’ll love ye, and I ’ll honour ye.
_Bel._ I am pleas’d, then.
_Mir._ This _Wild-Goose Chase_ is done; we have won o’ both sides.
Brother, your love: and now to church of all hands;
Let’s lose no time.
_Pin._ Our travelling lay by. 110
_Bel._ No more for Italy; for the Low Countries, [I.] _Exeunt._
THE DUCHESS OF MALFI
BY JOHN WEBSTER
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
FERDINAND [Duke of Calabria].
CARDINAL [his brother]
ANTONIO [BOLOGNA, Steward of the Household to the Duchess].
DELIO [his friend].
DANIEL DE BOSOLA [Gentleman of the Horse to the Duchess].
[CASTRUCCIO, an old Lord.]
MARQUIS OF PESCARA.
[COUNT] MALATESTI.
RODERIGO, }
SILVIO, } [Lords.]
GRISOLAN, }
DOCTOR.
The Several Madmen.
DUCHESS [OF MALFI].
CARIOLA [her woman].
[JULIA, Castruccio’s wife, and] the Cardinal’s mistress.
[Old Lady.]
Ladies, Three Young Children, Two Pilgrims, Executioners, Court
Officers, and Attendants.
[SCENE.—_Amalfi_, _Rome_, _Loretto_, _Milan_. TIME.—_Early Sixteenth
Century._]
ACT I
SCENE I.[3642]
[_Enter_] ANTONIO _and_ DELIO.
_Delio._ You are welcome to your country, dear Antonio;
You have been long in France, and you return
A very formal Frenchman in your habit.
How do you like the French court?
_Ant._ I admire it.
In seeking to reduce both state and people 5
To a fix’d order, their judicious king
Begins at home; quits first his royal palace
Of flatt’ring sycophants, of dissolute
And infamous persons,—which he sweetly terms
His master’s master-piece, the work of heaven;
Considering duly that a prince’s court 11
Is like a common fountain, whence should flow
Pure silver drops in general, but if ’t chance
Some curs’d example poison ’t near the head,
Death and diseases through the whole land spread. 15
And what is ’t makes this blessed government
But a most provident council, who dare freely
Inform him the corruption of the times?
Though some o’ th’ court hold it presumption
To instruct princes what they ought to do, 20
It is a noble duty to inform them
What they ought to forsee.[3643]—Here comes Bosola,
The only court-gall; yet I observe his railing
Is not for simple love of piety:
Indeed, he rails at those things which he wants; 25
Would be as lecherous, covetous, or proud,
Bloody, or envious, as any man,
If he had means to be so.—Here’s the cardinal.
[_Enter_ CARDINAL _and_ BOSOLA.]
_Bos._ I do haunt you still.
_Card._ So. 30
_Bos._ I have done you better service than to be slighted thus.
Miserable age, where only the reward of doing well is the doing of it!
_Card._ You enforce your merit too much.
_Bos._ I fell into the galleys in your service; (35) where, for two
years together, I wore two towels instead of a shirt, with a knot on
the shoulder, after the fashion of a Roman mantle. Slighted thus! I
will thrive some way. Blackbirds fatten best in hard weather; why not
(40) I in these dog-days?
_Card._ Would you could become honest!
_Bos._ With all your divinity do but direct me the way to it. I have
known many travel far for it, and yet return as arrant knaves as 45
they went forth, because they carried themselves always along with
them. [_Exit_ CARDINAL.] Are you gone? Some fellows, they say, are
possessed with the devil, but this great fellow were able to possess
the greatest devil, and make him (50) worse.
_Ant._ He hath denied thee some suit?
_Bos._ He and his brother are like plum-trees that grow crooked over
standing-pools; they are rich and o’erladen with fruit, but none
but crows, pies, and caterpillars feed on them. (56) Could I be
one of their flatt’ring panders, I would hang on their ears like a
horseleech, till I were full, and then drop off. I pray, leave me.
Who would rely upon these miserable dependencies, in expectation
to be advanc’d to-morrow? (61) What creature ever fed worse than
hoping Tantalus? Nor ever died any man more fearfully than he that
hop’d for a pardon. There are rewards for hawks and dogs when 65
they have done us service; but for a soldier that hazards his limbs
in a battle, nothing but a kind of geometry is his last supportation.
_Delio._ Geometry?
_Bos._ Ay, to hang in a fair pair of slings, take his latter swing in
the world upon an honourable (71) pair of crutches, from hospital to
hospital. Fare ye well, sir: and yet do not you scorn us; for places
in the court are but like beds in the hospital, where this man’s head
lies at that man’s foot, and so lower and lower. [_Exit._] 76
_Del._ I knew this fellow seven years in the galleys
For a notorious murder; and ’t was thought
The cardinal suborn’d it: he was releas’d
By the French general, Gaston de Foix, 80
When he recover’d Naples.
_Ant._ ’T is great pity
He should be thus neglected: I have heard
He ’s very valiant. This foul melancholy
Will poison all his goodness; for, I’ll tell you,
If too immoderate sleep be truly said 85
To be an inward rust unto the soul,
It then doth follow want of action
Breeds all black malcontents; and their close rearing,
Like moths in cloth, do hurt for want of wearing.
SCENE II.[3644]
ANTONIO, DELIO. [_Enter_] SILVIO, CASTRUCCIO, JULIA, RODERIGO, _and_
GRISOLAN.
_Delio._ The presence ’gins to fill: you promis’d me
To make me the partaker of the natures
Of some of your great courtiers.
_Ant._ The lord cardinal’s
And other strangers’ that are now in court?
I shall.—Here comes the great Calabrian duke.
[_Enter_ FERDINAND _and_ Attendants.]
_Ferd._ Who took the ring oft’nest?[3645] 6
_Sil._ Antonio Bologna, my lord.
_Ferd._ Our sister duchess’ great master of her household? Give him
the jewel.—When shall we leave this sportive action, and fall to
action indeed? 11
_Cast._ Methinks, my lord, you should not desire to go to war in
person.
_Ferd._ Now for some gravity.—Why, my lord? 15
_Cast._ It is fitting a soldier arise to be a prince, but not
necessary a prince descend to be a captain.
_Ferd._ No?
_Cast._ No, my lord; he were far better do it by a deputy. 21
_Ferd._ Why should he not as well sleep or eat by a deputy? This
might take idle, offensive, and base office from him, whereas the
other deprives him of honour. 25
_Cast._ Believe my experience, that realm is never long in quiet
where the ruler is a soldier.
_Ferd._ Thou told’st me thy wife could not endure fighting.
_Cast._ True, my lord. 30
_Ferd._ And of a jest she broke of[3646] a captain she met full of
wounds: I have forgot it.
_Cast._ She told him, my lord, he was a pitiful fellow, to lie, like
the children of Ismael, all in tents.[3647] 35
_Ferd._ Why, there ’s a wit were able to undo all the
chirurgeons[3648] o’ the city; for although gallants should quarrel,
and had drawn their weapons, and were ready to go to it, yet her
persuasions would make them put up. 40
_Cast._ That she would, my lord.—How do you like my Spanish
gennet?[3649]
_Rod._ He is all fire.
_Ferd._ I am of Pliny’s opinion, I think he was begot by the wind; he
runs as if he were ballas’d[3650] with quicksilver. 46
_Sil._ True, my lord, he reels from the tilt often.
_Rod. Gris._ Ha, ha, ha!
_Ferd._ Why do you laugh? Methinks you that are courtiers should be
my touch-wood, (51) take fire when I give fire; that is, laugh when I
laugh, were the subject never so witty.
_Cast._ True, my lord: I myself have heard a very good jest, and have
scorn’d to seem to have so silly a wit as to understand it. 56
_Ferd._ But I can laugh at your fool, my lord.
_Cast._ He cannot speak, you know, but he makes faces; my lady cannot
abide him.
_Ferd._ No? 60
_Cast._ Nor endure to be in merry company; for she says too full
laughing, and too much company, fills her too much of the wrinkle.
_Ferd._ I would, then, have a mathematical instrument made for her
face, that she might not laugh out of compass.—I shall shortly visit
(66) you at Milan, Lord Silvio.
_Sil._ Your grace shall arrive most welcome.
_Ferd._ You are a good horseman, Antonio: you have excellent riders
in France; what do you think of good horsemanship? 71
_Ant._ Nobly, my lord: as out of the Grecian horse issued many famous
princes, so out of brave horsemanship arise the first sparks of
growing resolution, that raise the mind to noble action. 76
_Ferd._ You have bespoke it worthily.
_Sil._ Your brother, the lord cardinal, and sister duchess.
[_Enter_ CARDINAL, _with_ DUCHESS, _and_ CARIOLA.]
_Card._ Are the galleys come about?
_Gris._ They are, my lord. 80
_Ferd._ Here ’s the Lord Silvio is come to take his leave.
_Delio._ Now, sir, your promise: what ’s that cardinal?
I mean his temper. They say he ’s a brave fellow,
Will play his five thousand crowns at tennis, dance,
Court ladies, and one that hath fought single combats. 85
_Ant._ Some such flashes superficially hang on him for form; but
observe his inward character: he is a melancholy churchman. The
spring in his face is nothing but the engend’ring of toads; where
he is jealous of any man, he lays worse plots for them than ever
was impos’d (91) on Hercules, for he strews in his way flatterers,
panders, intelligencers, atheists, and a thousand such political
monsters. He should have been Pope; but instead of coming to it by
the primitive decency of the church, he did (96) bestow bribes so
largely and so impudently as if he would have carried it away without
heaven’s knowledge. Some good he hath done——
_Delio._ You have given too much of him. What ’s his brother? 100
_Ant._ The duke there? A most perverse and turbulent nature.
What appears in him mirth is merely outside;
If he laught heartily, it is to laugh
All honesty out of fashion.
_Delio._ Twins?
_Ant._ In quality.
He speaks with others’ tongues, and hears men’s suits 105
With others’ ears; will seem to sleep o’ th’ bench
Only to entrap offenders in their answers;
Dooms men to death by information;
Rewards by hearsay.
_Delio._ Then the law to him
Is like a foul, black cobweb to a spider,— 110
He makes it his dwelling and a prison
To entangle those shall feed him.
_Ant._ Most true:
He never pays debts unless they be shrewd turns,
And those he will confess that he doth owe.
Last, for his brother there, the cardinal, 115
They that do flatter him most say oracles
Hang at his lips; and verily I believe them,
For the devil speaks in them.
But for their sister, the right noble duchess,
You never fix’d your eye on three fair medals
Cast in one figure, of so different temper. 121
For her discourse, it is so full of rapture,
You only will begin then to be sorry
When she doth end her speech, and wish, in wonder,
She held it less vain-glory to talk much, 125
Than your penance to hear her. Whilst she speaks,
She throws upon a man so sweet a look
That it were able to raise one to a galliard[3651]
That lay in a dead palsy, and to dote
On that sweet countenance; but in that look 130
There speaketh so divine a continence
As cuts off all lascivious and vain hope.
Her days are practis’d in such noble virtue,
That sure her nights, nay, more, her very sleeps,
Are more in heaven than other ladies’ shrifts.
Let all sweet ladies break their flatt’ring glasses, 136
And dress themselves in her.
_Delio._ Fie, Antonio.
You play the wire-drawer with her commendations.
_Ant._ I ’ll case the picture up: only thus much;
All her particular worth grows to this sum,—
She stains[3652] the time past, lights the time to come. 141
_Cari._ You must attend my lady in the gallery,
Some half an hour hence.
_Ant._ I shall. [_Exeunt_ ANTONIO _and_ DELIO.]
_Ferd._ Sister, I have a suit to you.
_Duch._ To me, sir?
_Ferd._ A gentlemen here, Daniel de Bosola,
One that was in the galleys——
_Duch._ Yes, I know him. 146
_Ferd._ A worthy fellow he ’s: pray, let me entreat for
The provisorship of your horse.
_Duch._ Your knowledge of him
Commends him and prefers him.
_Ferd._ Call him hither. [_Exit_ Attendants.]
We [are] now upon[3653] parting. Good Lord Silvio,
Do us commend to all our noble friends 151
At the leaguer.
_Sil._ Sir, I shall.
[_Duch._] You are for Milan?
_Sil._ I am.
_Duch._ Bring the caroches.[3654]—We ’ll bring you down
To the haven.
[_Exeunt_ DUCHESS, SILVIO, CASTRUCCIO, RODERIGO, GRISOLAN, CARIOLA,
JULIA, _and_ Attendants.]
_Card._ Be sure you entertain that Bosola 154
For your intelligence.[3655] I would not be seen in ’t;
And therefore many times I have slighted him
When he did court our furtherance, as this morning.
_Ferd._ Antonio, the great master of her household,
Had been far fitter.
_Card._ You are deceiv’d in him. 159
His nature is too honest for such business.—
He comes: I ’ll leave you. [_Exit._]
[_Re-enter_ BOSOLA.]
_Bos._ I was lur’d to you.
_Ferd._ My brother, here, the cardinal could never
Abide you.
_Bos._ Never since he was in my debt.
_Ferd._ May be some oblique character in your face
Made him suspect you.
_Bos._ Doth he study physiognomy? 165
There ’s no more credit to be given to th’ face
Than to a sick man’s urine, which some call
The physician’s whore, because she cozens[3656] him.
He did suspect me wrongfully.
_Ferd._ For that
You must give great men leave to take their times. 170
Distrust doth cause us seldom be deceiv’d.
You see the oft shaking of the cedar-tree
Fastens it more at root.
_Bos._ Yet take heed;
For to suspect a friend unworthily
Instructs him the next way to suspect you, 175
And prompts him to deceive you.
_Ferd._ There ’s gold.
_Bos._ So:
What follows?—[_Aside._] Never rain’d such showers as these
Without thunderbolts i’ th’ tail of them.—Whose throat must I cut?
_Ferd._ Your inclination to shed blood rides post
Before my occasion to use you. I give you that
To live i’ th’ court here, and observe the duchess; 181
To note all the particulars of her behaviour,
What suitors do solicit her for marriage,
And whom she best affects.[3657] She ’s a young widow:
I would not have her marry again.
_Bos._ No, sir? 185
_Ferd._ Do not you ask the reason; but be satisfied.
I say I would not.
_Bos._ It seems you would create me
One of your familiars.
_Ferd._ Familiar! What ’s that?
_Bos._ Why, a very quaint invisible devil in flesh,—
An intelligencer.[3658]
_Ferd._ Such a kind of thriving thing 190
I would wish thee; and ere long thou mayst arrive
At a higher place by ’t.
_Bos._ Take your devils,
Which hell calls angels! These curs’d gifts would make
You a corrupter, me an impudent traitor;
And should I take these, they ’d take me [to] hell. 195
_Ferd._ Sir, I ’ll take nothing from you that I have given.
There is a place that I procur’d for you
This morning, the provisorship o’ th’ horse;
Have you heard on ’t?
_Bos._ No.
_Ferd._ ’T is yours: is ’t not worth thanks?
_Bos._ I would have you curse yourself now, that your bounty 200
(Which makes men truly noble) e’er should make me
A villain. O, that to avoid ingratitude
For the good deed you have done me, I must do
All the ill man can invent! Thus the devil
Candies all sins o’er: and what heaven terms vile, 205
That names he complimental.
_Ferd._ Be yourself;
Keep your old garb of melancholy; ’t will express
You envy those that stand above your reach,
Yet strive not to come near ’em. This will gain
Access to private lodgings, where yourself 210
May, like a politic dormouse——
_Bos._ As I have seen some
Feed in a lord’s dish, half asleep, not seeming
To listen to any talk; and yet these rogues
Have cut his throat in a dream. What ’s my place?
The provisorship o’ th’ horse? Say, then, my corruption 215
Grew out of horse-dung: I am your creature.
_Ferd._ Away! [_Exit._]
_Bos._ Let good men, for good deeds, covet good fame,
Since place and riches oft are bribes of shame.
Sometimes the devil doth preach. _Exit._
[SCENE III.][3659]
[_Enter_ FERDINAND, DUCHESS, CARDINAL, _and_ CARIOLA.]
_Card._ We are to part from you; and your own discretion
Must now be your director.
_Ferd._ You are a widow:
You know already what man is; and therefore
Let not youth, high promotion, eloquence——
_Card._ No, 5
Nor anything without the addition, honour,
Sway your high blood.
_Ferd._ Marry! They are most luxurious[3660]
Will wed twice.
_Card._ O, fie!
_Ferd._ Their livers are more spotted
Than Laban’s sheep.[3661]
_Duch._ Diamonds are of most value,
They say, that have past through most jewellers’ hands. 10
_Ferd._ Whores by that rule are precious.
_Duch._ Will you hear me?
I ’ll never marry.
_Card._ So most widows say;
But commonly that motion[3662] lasts no longer
Than the turning of an hour-glass: the funeral sermon
And it end both together.
_Ferd._ Now hear me: 15
You live in a rank pasture, here, i’ th’ court;
There is a kind of honey-dew that ’s deadly;
’T will poison your fame; look to ’t. Be not cunning;
For they whose faces do belie their hearts
Are witches ere they arrive at twenty years, 20
Ay, and give the devil suck.
_Duch._ This is terrible good counsel.
_Ferd._ Hypocrisy is woven of a fine small thread,
Subtler than Vulcan’s engine:[3663] yet, believe ’t,
Your darkest actions, nay, your privat’st thoughts, 25
Will come to light.
_Card._ You may flatter yourself,
And take your own choice; privately be married
Under the eaves of night——
_Ferd._ Think ’t the best voyage
That e’er you made; like the irregular crab,
Which, though ’t goes backward, thinks that it goes right 30
Because it goes its own way: but observe,
Such weddings may more properly be said
To be executed than celebrated.
_Card._ The marriage night
Is the entrance into some prison.
_Ferd._ And those joys,
Those lustful pleasures, are like heavy sleeps 35
Which do fore-run man’s mischief.
_Card._ Fare you well.
Wisdom begins at the end: remember it. [_Exit._]
_Duch._ I think this speech between you both was studied,
It came so roundly off.
_Ferd._ You are my sister:
This was my father’s poniard, do you see? 40
I’d be loth to see ’t look rusty, ’cause ’t was his.
I would have you give o’er these chargeable revels:
A visor and a mask are whispering-rooms
That were nev’r built for goodness,—fare ye well—
And women like that part which, like the lamprey, 45
Hath nev’r a bone in ’t.
_Duch._ Fie, sir!
_Ferd._ Nay,
I mean the tongue; variety of courtship.
What cannot a neat knave with a smooth tale
Make a woman believe? Farewell, lusty widow. [_Exit._]
_Duch._ Shall this move me? If all my royal kindred 50
Lay in my way unto this marriage,
I ’d make them my low footsteps. And even now,
Even in this hate, as men in some great battles,
By apprehending danger, have achiev’d
Almost impossible actions (I have heard soldiers say so), 55
So I through frights and threat’nings will assay
This dangerous venture. Let old wives report
I wink’d and chose a husband.—Cariola,
To thy known secrecy I have given up
More than my life,—my fame.
_Cari._ Both shall be safe; 60
For I ’ll conceal this secret from the world
As warily as those that trade in poison
Keep poison from their children.
_Duch._ Thy protestation
Is ingenious and hearty; I believe it.
Is Antonio come?
_Cari._ He attends you.
_Duch._ Good dear soul, 65
Leave me; but place thyself behind the arras,
Where thou mayest overhear us. Wish me good speed;
For I am going into a wilderness,
Where I shall find nor path nor friendly clue
To be my guide.
[CARIOLA _goes behind the arras_.]
[_Enter_ ANTONIO.]
I sent for you: sit down; 70
Take pen and ink, and write: are you ready?
_Ant._ Yes.
_Duch._ What did I say?
_Ant._ That I should write somewhat.
_Duch._ O, I remember.
After these triumphs and this large expense
It ’s fit, like thrifty husbands,[3664] we inquire 75
What ’s laid up for to-morrow.
_Ant._ So please your beauteous excellence.
_Duch._ Beauteous!
Indeed, I thank you. I look young for your sake;
You have ta’en my cares upon you.
_Ant._ I ’ll fetch your grace
The particulars of your revenue and expense. 80
_Duch._ O, you are
An upright treasurer, but you mistook;
For when I said I meant to make inquiry
What ’s laid up for to-morrow, I did mean
What ’s laid up yonder for me.
_Ant._ Where?
_Duch._ In heaven. 85
I am making my will (as ’t is fit princes should,
In perfect memory), and, I pray, sir, tell me,
Were not one better make it smiling, thus,
Than in deep groans and terrible ghastly looks,
As if the gifts we parted with procur’d[3665] 90
That violent distraction?
_Ant._ O, much better.
_Duch._ If I had a husband now, this care were quit:
But I intend to make you overseer.
What good deed shall we first remember? Say.
_Ant._ Begin with that first good deed began i’ th’ world 95
After man’s creation, the sacrament of marriage.
I ’d have you first provide for a good husband;
Give him all.
_Duch._ All!
_Ant._ Yes, your excellent self.
_Duch._ In a winding-sheet?
_Ant._ In a couple.
_Duch._ Saint Winifred, that were a strange will! 100
_Ant._ ’T were stranger[3666] if there were no will in you
To marry again.
_Duch._ What do you think of marriage?
_Ant._ I take ’t, as those that deny purgatory,
It locally contains or heaven or hell;
There ’s no third place in ’t.
_Duch._ How do you affect it? 105
_Ant._ My banishment, feeding my melancholy,
Would often reason thus:—
_Duch._ Pray, let ’s hear it.
_Ant._ Say a man never marry, nor have children,
What takes that from him? Only the bare name
Of being a father, or the weak delight 110
To see the little wanton ride a-cock-horse
Upon a painted stick, or hear him chatter
Like a taught starling.
_Duch._ Fie, fie, what ’s all this?
One of your eyes is blood-shot: use my ring to ’t.
They say ’t is very sovereign. ’T was my wedding-ring. 115
And I did vow never to part with it
But to my second husband.
_Ant._ You have parted with it now.
_Duch._ Yes, to help your eye-sight.
_Ant._ You have made me stark blind.
_Duch._ How? 120
_Ant._ There is a saucy and ambitious devil
Is dancing in this circle.
_Duch._ Remove him.
_Ant._ How?
_Duch._ There needs small conjuration, when your finger
May do it: thus. Is it fit?
[_She puts the ring upon his finger_]: _he kneels_.
_Ant._ What said you?
_Duch._ Sir,
This goodly roof of yours is too low built; 125
I cannot stand upright in ’t nor discourse,
Without I raise it higher. Raise yourself;
Or, if you please, my hand to help you: so. [_Raises him._]
_Ant._ Ambition, madam, is a great man’s madness,
That is not kept in chains and close-pent rooms,
But in fair lightsome lodgings, and is girt 131
With the wild noise of prattling visitants,
Which makes it lunatic beyond all cure.
Conceive not I am so stupid but I aim[3667]
Whereto your favours tend: but he ’s a fool 135
That, being a-cold, would thrust his hands i’ th’ fire
To warm them.
_Duch._ So, now the ground ’s broke,
You may discover what a wealthy mine
I make you lord of.
_Ant._ O my unworthiness!
_Duch._ You were ill to sell yourself: 140
This dark’ning of your worth is not like that
Which tradesmen use i’ th’ city; their false lights
Are to rid bad wares off: and I must tell you,
If you will know where breathes a complete man
(I speak it without flattery), turn your eyes, 145
And progress through yourself.
_Ant._ Were there nor heaven nor hell,
I should be honest: I have long serv’d virtue,
And nev’r ta’en wages of her.
_Duch._ Now she pays it.
The misery of us that are born great! 150
We are forc’d to woo, because none dare woo us;
And as a tyrant doubles with his words
And fearfully equivocates, so we
Are forc’d to express our violent passions
In riddles and in dreams, and leave the path 155
Of simple virtue, which was never made
To seem the thing it is not. Go, go brag
You have left me heartless; mine is in your bosom:
I hope ’t will multiply love there. You do tremble:
Make not your heart so dead a piece of flesh, 160
To fear more than to love me. Sir, be confident:
What is ’t distracts you? This is flesh and blood, sir;
’T is not the figure cut in alabaster
Kneels at my husband’s tomb. Awake, awake, man!
I do here put off all vain ceremony, 165
And only do appear to you a young widow
That claims you for her husband, and, like a widow,
I use but half a blush in ’t.
_Ant._ Truth speak for me;
I will remain the constant sanctuary
Of your good name.
_Duch._ I thank you, gentle love: 170
And ’cause you shall not come to me in debt,
Being now my steward, here upon your lips
I sign your _Quietus est_.[3668] This you should have begg’d now.
I have seen children oft eat sweetmeats thus,
As fearful to devour them too soon. 175
_Ant._ But for your brothers?
_Duch._ Do not think of them:
All discord without this circumference
Is only to be pitied, and not fear’d:
Yet, should they know it, time will easily
Scatter the tempest.
_Ant._ These words should be mine, 180
And all the parts you have spoke, if some part of it
Would not have savour’d flattery.
_Duch._ Kneel.
[CARIOLA _comes from behind the arras_.]
_Ant._ Ha!
_Duch._ Be not amaz’d: this woman ’s of my counsel.
I have heard lawyers say, a contract in a chamber
_Per verba_ [_de_] _presenti_[3669] is absolute marriage. 185
[_She and_ ANTONIO _kneel_.]
Bless, heaven, this sacred gordian,[3670] which let violence
Never untwine.
_Ant._ And may our sweet affections, like the spheres,
Be still in motion!
_Duch._ Quick’ning, and make
The like soft music! 190
_Ant._ That we may imitate the loving palms,
Best emblem of a peaceful marriage,
That nev’r bore fruit, divided!
_Duch._ What can the church force more?
_Ant._ That fortune may not know an accident, 195
Either of joy or sorrow, to divide
Our fixed wishes!
_Duch._ How can the church build faster?[3671]
We now are man and wife, and ’t is the church
That must but echo this.—Maid, stand apart:
I now am blind.
_Ant._ What ’s your conceit in this? 200
_Duch._ I would have you lead your fortune by the hand
Unto your marriage-bed:
(You speak in me this, for we now are one.)
We ’ll only lie and talk together, and plot
T’ appease my humorous[3672] kindred; and if you please, 205
Like the old tale in _Alexander and Lodowick_,
Lay a naked sword between us, keep us chaste.
O, let me shrowd my blushes in your bosom,
Since ’t is the treasury of all my secrets!
[_Exeunt_ DUCHESS _and_ ANTONIO.]
_Cari._ Whether the spirit of greatness or of woman 210
Reign most in her, I know not; but it shows
A fearful madness. I owe her much of pity. _Exit._
ACT II
SCENE I.[3673]
[_Enter_] BOSOLA _and_ CASTRUCCIO.
_Bos._ You say you would fain be taken for an eminent courtier?
_Cast._ ’T is the very main[3674] of my ambition.
_Bos._ Let me see: you have a reasonable good face for ’t already,
and your night-cap expresses your ears sufficient largely. I would
have you (5) learn to twirl the strings of your band with a good
grace, and in a set speech, at th’ end of every sentence, to hum
three or four times, or blow your nose till it smart again, to
recover your memory. When you come to be a (10) president in criminal
causes, if you smile upon a prisoner, hang him; but if you frown upon
him and threaten him, let him be sure to scape the gallows.
_Cast._ I would be a very merry president. 15
_Bos._ Do not sup o’ nights; ’t will beget you an admirable wit.
_Cast._ Rather it would make me have a good stomach to quarrel; for
they say, your roaring boys eat meat seldom, and that makes them so
valiant. But how shall I know whether the (20) people take me for an
eminent fellow?
_Bos._ I will teach a trick to know it: give out you lie a-dying, and
if you hear the common people curse you, be sure you are taken for
one of the prime night-caps.[3675] 25
[_Enter an_ Old Lady.]
You come from painting now.
_Old Lady._ From what?
_Bos._ Why, from your scurvy face-physic. To behold thee not painted
inclines somewhat near a miracle. These in thy face here were deep
ruts and foul sloughs the last progress.[3676] There was (31) a lady
in France that, having had the small-pox, flayed the skin off her
face to make it more level; and whereas before she looked like a
nutmeg-grater, after she resembled an abortive hedge-hog. 35
_Old Lady._ Do you call this painting?
_Bos._ No, no, but you call [it] careening[3677] of an old
morphew’d[3678] lady, to make her disembogue[3679] again: there ’s
rough-cast phrase to your plastic.[3680]
_Old Lady._ It seems you are well acquainted (40) with my closet.
_Bos._ One would suspect it for a shop of witch-craft, to find in it
the fat of serpents, spawn of snakes, Jews’ spittle, and their young
children’s ordure; and all these for the face. I would (45) sooner
eat a dead pigeon taken from the soles of the feet of one sick of
the plague, than kiss one of you fasting. Here are two of you, whose
sin of your youth is the very patrimony of the physician; makes him
renew his foot-cloth (50) with the spring, and change his high-pric’d
courtesan with the fall of the leaf. I do wonder you do not loathe
yourselves. Observe my meditation now.
What thing is in this outward form of man 55
To be belov’d? We account it ominous,
If nature do produce a colt, or lamb,
A fawn, or goat, in any limb resembling
A man, and fly from ’t as a prodigy.
Man stands amaz’d to see his deformity 60
In any other creature but himself.
But in our own flesh though we bear diseases
Which have their true names only ta’en from beasts,—
As the most ulcerous wolf[3681] and swinish measle,[3682]—
Though we are eaten up of lice and worms, 65
And though continually we bear about us
A rotten and dead body, we delight
To hide it in rich tissue: all our fear,
Nay, all our terror, is, lest our physician 69
Should put us in the ground to be made sweet.—
Your wife ’s gone to Rome: you two couple, and
get you to the wells at Lucca to recover your
aches. I have other work on foot.
[_Exeunt_ CASTRUCCIO _and_ Old Lady.]
I observe our duchess 74
Is sick a-days, she pukes, her stomach seethes,
The fins of her eye-lids look most teeming blue,[3683]
She wanes i’ th’ cheek, and waxes fat i’ th’ flank,
And, contrary to our Italian fashion,
Wears a loose-bodied gown: there’s somewhat in ’t.
I have a trick may chance discover it, 80
A pretty one; I have bought some apricocks,
The first our spring yields.
[_Enter_ ANTONIO _and_ DELIO, _talking together apart_.]
_Delio._ And so long since married?
You amaze me.
_Ant._ Let me seal your lips for ever:
For, did I think that anything but th’ air
Could carry these words from you, I should wish 85
You had no breath at all.—Now, sir, in your contemplation?
You are studying to become a great wise fellow.
_Bos._ O, sir, the opinion of wisdom is a foul tetter[3684] that runs
all over a man’s body: if simplicity direct us to have no evil, it
directs us (90) to a happy being; for the subtlest folly proceeds
from the subtlest wisdom. Let me be simply honest.
_Ant._ I do understand your inside.
_Bos._ Do you so?
_Ant._ Because you would not seem to appear to th’ world 95
Puff’d up with your preferment, you continue
This out-of-fashion melancholy: leave it, leave it.
_Bos._ Give me leave to be honest in any phrase, in any compliment
whatsoever. Shall I confess myself to you? I look no higher than 100
I can reach: they are the gods that must ride on winged horses.
A lawyer’s mule of a slow pace will both suit my disposition and
business; for, mark me, when a man’s mind rides faster than his horse
can gallop, they quickly both (105) tire.
_Ant._ You would look up to heaven, but I think
The devil, that rules i’ th’ air, stands in your light.
_Bos._ O, sir, you are lord of the ascendant,[3685] chief man with
the duchess: a duke was your (110) cousin-german remov’d. Say you
were lineally descended from King Pepin, or he himself, what of this?
Search the heads of the greatest rivers in the world, you shall find
them but bubbles of water. Some would think the souls of princes 115
were brought forth by some more weighty cause than those of meaner
persons: they are deceiv’d, there’s the same hand to them; the like
passions sway them; the same reason that makes a vicar go to law for
a tithe-pig, and (120) undo his neighbours, makes them spoil a whole
province, and batter down goodly cities with the cannon.
[_Enter_ DUCHESS _and_ Ladies.]
_Duch._ Your arm, Antonio: do I not grow fat?
I am exceeding short-winded.—Bosola, 125
I would have you, sir, provide for me a litter;
Such a one as the Duchess of Florence rode in.
_Bos._ The duchess us’d one when she was great with child.
_Duch._ I think she did.—Come hither, mend my ruff: 129
Here, when? thou art such a tedious lady; and
Thy breath smells of lemon-pills: wouldst thou hadst done!
Shall I swoon under thy fingers? I am
So troubled with the mother![3686]
_Bos._ [_Aside._] I fear, too much.
_Duch._ I have heard you say that the French courtiers
Wear their hats on ’fore the king. 135
_Ant._ I have seen it.
_Duch._ In the presence?
_Ant._ Yes.
_Duch._ Why should not we bring up that fashion?
’T is ceremony more than duty that consists
In the removing of a piece of felt.
Be you the example to the rest o’ th’ court; 140
Put on your hat first.
_Ant._ You must pardon me:
I have seen, in colder countries than in France,
Nobles stand bare to th’ prince; and the distinction
Methought show’d reverently.
_Bos._ I have a present for your grace.
_Duch._ For me, sir? 145
_Bos._ Apricocks, madam.
_Duch._ O, sir, where are they?
I have heard of none to-year.[3687]
_Bos._ [_Aside._] Good; her colour rises.
_Duch._ Indeed, I thank you: they are wondrous fair ones.
What an unskilful fellow is our gardener!
We shall have none this month. 150
_Bos._ Will not your grace pare them?
_Duch._ No: they taste of musk, methinks; indeed they do.
_Bos._ I know not: yet I wish your grace had par’d ’em.
_Duch._ Why?
_Bos._ I forgot to tell you, the knave gardener,
Only to raise his profit by them the sooner, 155
Did ripen them in horse-dung.
_Duch._ O, you jest.—
You shall judge: pray, taste one.
_Ant._ Indeed, madam,
I do not love the fruit.
_Duch._ Sir, you are loth
To rob us of our dainties. ’T is a delicate fruit;
They say they are restorative.
_Bos._ ’T is a pretty art, 160
This grafting.
_Duch._ ’T is so; a bett’ring of nature.
_Bos._ To make a pippin grow upon a crab,
A damson on a black-thorn.—[_Aside._] How greedily she eats them!
A whirlwind strike off these bawd farthingales!
For, but for that and the loose-bodied gown, 166
I should have discover’d apparently[3688]
The young springal[3689] cutting a caper in her belly.
_Duch._ I thank you, Bosola: they were right good ones,
If they do not make me sick.
_Ant._ How, now, madam! 170
_Duch._ This green fruit and my stomach are not friends:
How they swell me!
_Bos._ [_Aside._] Nay, you are too much swell’d already.
_Duch._ O, I am in an extreme cold sweat!
_Bos._ I am very sorry. [_Exit._]
_Duch._ Lights to my chamber!—O good Antonio, 175
I fear I am undone!
_Delio._ Lights there, lights!
_Exeunt_ DUCHESS [_and Ladies_].
_Ant._ O my most trusty Delio, we are lost!
I fear she’s fall’n in labour; and there’s left
No time for her remove.
_Delio._ Have you prepar’d
Those ladies to attend her; and procur’d 180
That politic safe conveyance for the midwife
Your duchess plotted?
_Ant._ I have.
_Delio._ Make use, then, of this forc’d occasion.
Give out that Bosola hath poison’d her
With these apricocks; that will give some colour 185
For her keeping close.
_Ant._ Fie, fie, the physicians
Will then flock to her.
_Delio._ For that you may pretend
She’ll use some prepar’d antidote of her own,
Lest the physicians should re-poison her. 190
_Ant._ I am lost in amazement: I know not what to think on ’t.
_Exeunt._
SCENE II.[3690]
[_Enter_] BOSOLA _and_ Old Lady.
_Bos._ So, so, there’s no question but her techiness[3691] and
most vulturous eating of the apricocks are apparent signs of
breeding.—Now?
_Old Lady._ I am in haste, sir.
_Bos._ There was a young waiting-woman had a monstrous desire to see
the glass-house—— 6
_Old Lady._ Nay, pray, let me go.
_Bos._ And it was only to know what strange instrument it was should
swell up a glass to the fashion of a woman’s belly. 10
_Old Lady._ I will hear no more of the glass-house. You are
still[3692] abusing women!
_Bos._ Who? I? No; only, by the way now and then, mention your
frailties. The orange-tree bears ripe and green fruit and blossoms
all (15) together; and some of you give entertainment for pure love,
but more for more precious reward. The lusty spring smells well; but
drooping autumn tastes well. If we have the same golden showers that
rained in the time of (20) Jupiter the thunderer, you have the same
Danäes still, to hold up their laps to receive them. Didst thou never
study the mathematics?
_Old Lady._ What’s that, sir? 25
_Bos._ Why, to know the trick how to make a many lines meet in one
centre. Go, go, give your foster-daughters good counsel: tell them,
that the devil takes delight to hang at a woman’s girdle, like a
false rusty watch, that (30) she cannot discern how the time passes.
[_Exit_ Old Lady.]
[_Enter_ ANTONIO, RODERIGO, _and_ GRISOLAN.]
_Ant._ Shut up the court-gates.
_Rod._ Why, sir? What’s the danger?
_Ant._ Shut up the posterns presently, and call
All the officers o’ th’ court.
_Gris._ I shall instantly. [_Exit._]
_Ant._ Who keeps the key o’ th’ park-gate?
_Rod._ Forobosco. 35
_Ant._ Let him bring ’t presently.
[_Re-enter_ GRISOLAN _with_ Servants.]
_1 Serv._ O, gentleman o’ th’ court, the foulest treason!
_Bos._ [_Aside._] If that these apricocks should be poison’d now,
Without my knowledge?
_1 Serv._ There was taken even now a Switzer in the duchess’
bed-chamber——- 40
_2 Serv._ A Switzer!
_1 Serv._ With a pistol in his great codpiece.
_Bos._ Ha, ha, ha!
_1 Serv._ The codpiece was the case for ’t.
_2 Serv._ There was a cunning traitor. Who would have search’d his
codpiece? 46
_1 Serv._ True; if he had kept out of the ladies’ chambers. And all
the moulds of his buttons were leaden bullets.
_2 Serv._ O wicked cannibal! A fire-lock in ’s codpiece! 50
_1 Serv._ ’T was a French plot, upon my life.
_2 Serv._ To see what the devil can do!
_Ant._ [Are] all the officers here?
_Servants._ We are.
_Ant._ Gentlemen, 55
We have lost much plate you know; and but this evening
Jewels, to the value of four thousand ducats,
Are missing in the duchess’ cabinet.
Are the gates shut?
_Serv._ Yes.
_Ant._ ’T is the duchess’ pleasure
Each officer be lock’d into his chamber 60
Till the sun-rising; and to send the keys
Of all their chests and of their outward doors
Into her bed-chamber. She is very sick.
_Rod._ At her pleasure.
_Ant._ She entreats you take ’t not ill: the innocent 65
Shall be the more approv’d by it.
_Bos._ Gentlemen o’ th’ wood-yard, where’s your Switzer now?
_1 Serv._ By this hand, ’t was credibly reported by one o’ th’ black
guard.[3693] 70
[_Exeunt all except_ ANTONIO _and_ DELIO.]
_Delio._ How fares it with the duchess?
_Ant._ She’s expos’d
Unto the worst of torture, pain and fear.
_Delio._ Speak to her all happy comfort.
_Ant._ How I do play the fool with mine own danger!
You are this night, dear friend, to post to Rome: 75
My life lies in your service.
_Delio._ Do not doubt me.
_Ant._ O, ’t is far from me: and yet fear presents me
Somewhat that looks like danger.
_Delio._ Believe it,
’T is but the shadow of your fear, no more.
How superstitiously we mind our evils! 80
The throwing down salt, or crossing of a hare,
Bleeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse,
Or singing of a cricket, are of power
To daunt whole man in us. Sir, fare you well:
I wish you all the joys of a bless’d father; 85
And, for my faith, lay this unto your breast,—
Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best. [_Exit._]
[_Enter_ CARIOLA.]
_Cari._ Sir, you are the happy father of a son:
Your wife commends him to you.
_Ant._ Blessed comfort!—
For heaven’ sake, tend her well: I ’ll presently[3694]
Go set a figure for ’s nativity.[3695] _Exeunt._ 91
SCENE III.[3696]
[_Enter_ BOSOLA, _with a dark lantern_.]
_Bos._ Sure I did hear a woman shriek: list, ha!
And the sound came, if I receiv’d it right,
From the duchess’ lodgings. There’s some stratagem
In the confining all our courtiers
To their several wards: I must have part of it;
My intelligence will freeze else. List, again! 5
It may be ’t was the melancholy bird,
Best friend of silence and of solitariness,
The owl, that scream’d so.—Ha! Antonio!
[_Enter_ ANTONIO _with a candle, his sword drawn._]
_Ant._ I heard some noise.—Who’s there?
What art thou? Speak. 10
_Bos._ Antonio, put not your face nor body
To such a forc’d expression of fear;
I am Bosola, your friend.
_Ant._ Bosola!—
[_Aside._] This mole does undermine me.—Heard you not
A noise even now?
_Bos._ From whence?
_Ant._ From the duchess’ lodging. 15
_Bos._ Not I: did you?
_Ant._ I did, or else I dream’d.
_Bos._ Let ’s walk towards it.
_Ant._ No: it may be ’t was
But the rising of the wind.
_Bos._ Very likely.
Me thinks ’t is very cold, and yet you sweat:
You look wildly.
_Ant._ I have been setting a figure[3697] 20
For the duchess’ jewels.
_Bos._ Ah, and how falls your question?
Do you find it radical?[3698]
_Ant._ What’s that to you?
’T is rather to be question’d what design,
When all men were commanded to their lodgings,
Makes you a night-walker.
_Bos._ In sooth, I ’ll tell you: 25
Now all the court’s asleep, I thought the devil
Had least to do here; I came to say my prayers;
And if it do offend you I do so,
You are a fine courtier.
_Ant._ [_Aside._] This fellow will undo me,—
You gave the duchess apricocks to-day: 30
Pray heaven they were not poison’d!
_Bos._ Poison’d! a Spanish fig
For the imputation!
_Ant._ Traitors are ever confident
Till they are discover’d. There were jewels stol’n too:
In my conceit, none are to be suspected 35
More than yourself.
_Bos._ You are a false steward.
_Ant._ Saucy slave, I ’ll pull thee up by the roots.
_Bos._ May be the ruin will crush you to pieces.
_Ant._ You are an impudent snake indeed, sir:
Are you scarce warm, and do you show your sting? 40
You libel[3699] well, sir?
_Bos._ No, sir: copy it out,
And I will set my hand to ’t.
_Ant._ [_Aside._] My nose bleeds.
One that were superstitious would count
This ominous, when it merely comes by chance.
Two letters, that are wrought here for my name,[3700] 45
Are drown’d in blood!
Mere accident.—For you, sir, I ’ll take order
I’ th’ morn you shall be safe.—[_Aside._] ’Tis that must colour
Her lying-in.—Sir, this door you pass not:
I do not hold it fit that you come near 50
The duchess’ lodgings, till you have quit yourself.—
[_Aside._] The great are like the base, nay, they are the same,
When they seek shameful ways to avoid shame. _Exit._
_Bos._ Antonio hereabout did drop a paper:—
Some of your help, false friend.[3701]—O, here it is.
What’s here? a child’s nativity calculated! [_Reads._] 56
_‛The duchess was deliver’d of a son, ’tween the hours twelve and
one in the night, Anno Dom. 1504._’—that’s this year—’_decimo
nono Decembris_,’—that’s this night—’_taken according (60) to the
meridian of Malfi_,’—that’s our duchess: happy discovery!—’_The
lord of the first house being combust in the ascendant signifies
short life; and Mars being in a human sign, joined to the tail of
the Dragon, in the eighth (65) house, doth threaten a violent death.
Caetera non scrutantur._’[3702]
Why, now ’t is most apparent; this precise fellow
Is the duchess’ bawd:—I have it to my wish!
This is a parcel of intelligency[3703] 70
Our courtiers were cas’d up for: it needs must follow
That I must be committed on pretence
Of poisoning her; which I ’ll endure, and laugh at.
If one could find the father now! but that
Time will discover. Old Castruccio 75
I’ th’ morning posts to Rome: by him I ’ll send
A letter that shall make her brothers’ galls
O’erflow their livers. This was a thrifty[3704] way!
Though Lust do mask in ne’er so strange disguise,
She ’s oft found witty, but is never wise. [_Exit_] 80
SCENE IV.[3705]
[_Enter_] CARDINAL _and_ JULIA.
_Card._ Sit: thou art my best of wishes. Prithee, tell me
What trick didst thou invent to come to Rome
Without thy husband?
_Julia._ Why, my lord, I told him
I came to visit an old anchorite[3706]
Here for devotion.
_Card._ Thou art a witty false one,— 5
I mean, to him.
_Julia._ You have prevail’d with me
Beyond my strongest thoughts; I would not now
Find you inconstant.
_Card._ Do not put thyself
To such a voluntary torture, which proceeds
Out of your own guilt.
_Julia._ How, my lord!
_Card._ You fear 10
My constancy, because you have approv’d[3707]
Those giddy and wild turnings in yourself.
_Julia._ Did you e’er find them?
_Card._ Sooth, generally for women,
A man might strive to make glass malleable,
Ere he should make them fixed.
_Julia._ So, my lord. 15
_Card._ We had need go borrow that fantastic glass
Invented by Galileo the Florentine
To view another spacious world i’ th’ moon,
And look to find a constant woman there.
_Julia._ This is very well, my lord.
_Card._ Why do you weep? 20
Are tears your justification? The self-same tears
Will fall into your husband’s bosom, lady,
With a loud protestation that you love him
Above the world. Come, I ’ll love you wisely,
That ’s jealously; since I am very certain 25
You cannot make me cuckold.
_Julia._ I ’ll go home
To my husband.
_Card._ You may thank me, lady,
I have taken you off your melancholy perch,
Bore you upon my fist, and show’d you game,
And let you fly at it.—I pray thee, kiss me.— 30
When thou wast with thy husband, thou wast watch’d
Like a tame elephant:—still you are to thank me:—
Thou hadst only kisses from him and high feeding:
But what delight was that? ’T was just like one
That hath a little fing’ring on the lute, 35
Yet cannot tune it:—still you are to thank me.
_Julia._ You told me of a piteous wound i’ th’ heart,
And a sick liver, when you woo’d me first,
And spake like one in physic.[3708]
_Card._ Who’s that?——
[_Enter_ Servant.]
Rest firm for my affection to thee, 40
Lightning moves slow to ’t.
_Serv._ Madam, a gentleman
That ’s comes post from Malfi, desires to see you.
_Card._ Let him enter: I ’ll withdraw. _Exit._
_Serv._ He says
Your husband, old Castruccio, is come to Rome,
Most pitifully tir’d with riding post. [_Exit._] 45
[_Enter_ DELIO.]
_Julia._ [_Aside._] Signior Delio! ’t is one of my old suitors.
_Delio._ I was bold to come and see you.
_Julia._ Sir, you are welcome.
_Delio._ Do you lie here?
_Julia._ Sure, your own experience
Will satisfy you no: our Roman prelates
Do not keep lodging for ladies.
_Delio._ Very well: 50
I have brought you no commendations from your husband,
For I know none by him.
_Julia._ I hear he ’s come to Rome.
_Delio._ I never knew man and beast, of a horse and a knight,
So weary of each other. If he had had a good back,
He would have undertook to have borne his horse, 55
His breech was so pitifully sore.
_Julia._ Your laughter
Is my pity.
_Delio._ Lady, I know not whether
You want money, but I have brought you some.
_Julia._ From my husband?
_Delio._ No, from mine own allowance. 60
_Julia._ I must hear the condition, ere I be bound to take it.
_Delio._ Look on ’t, ’t is gold; hath it not a fine colour?
_Julia._ I have a bird more beautiful.
_Delio._ Try the sound on ’t.
_Julia._ A lute-string far exceeds it.
It hath no smell, like cassia or civet; 65
Nor is it physical,[3709] though some fond doctors
Persuade us seethe ’t in cullises.[3710] I ’ll tell you,
This is a creature bred by——
[_Re-enter_ Servant.]
_Serv._ Your husband ’s come,
Hath deliver’d a letter to the Duke of Calabria
That, to my thinking, hath put him out of his wits. _Exit._ 70
_Julia._ Sir, you hear:
Pray, let me know your business and your suit
As briefly as can be.
_Delio._ With good speed: I would wish you,
At such time as you are non-resident 75
With your husband, my mistress.
_Julia._ Sir, I ’ll go ask my husband if I shall,
And straight return your answer. _Exit._
_Delio._ Very fine!
Is this her wit, or honesty, that speaks thus?
I heard one say the duke was highly mov’d 80
With a letter sent from Malfi. I do fear
Antonio is betray’d. How fearfully
Shows his ambition now! Unfortunate fortune!
They pass through whirl-pools, and deep woes do shun,
Who the event weigh ere the action ’s done. 85
SCENE V.[3711]
[_Enter_] CARDINAL _and_ FERDINAND _with a letter_.
_Ferd._ I have this night digg’d up a mandrake.[3712]
_Card._ Say you?
_Ferd._ And I am grown mad with ’t.
_Card._ What ’s the prodigy?
_Ferd._ Read there,—a sister damn’d: she ’s loose i’ th’ hilts;[3713]
Grown a notorious strumpet.
_Card._ Speak lower.
_Ferd._ Lower!
Rogues do not whisper ’t now, but seek to publish ’t 5
(As servants do the bounty of their lords)
Aloud; and with a covetous searching eye,
To mark who note them. O, confusion seize her!
She hath had most cunning bawds to serve her turn,
And more secure conveyances for lust 10
Than towns of garrison for service.
_Card._ Is ’t possible?
Can this be certain?
_Ferd._ Rhubarb, O, for rhubarb
To purge this choler! Here ’s the cursed day
To prompt my memory; and here ’t shall stick
Till of her bleeding heart I make a sponge 15
To wipe it out.
_Card._ Why do you make yourself
So wild a tempest?
_Ferd._ Would I could be one,
That I might toss her palace ’bout her ears,
Root up her goodly forests, blast her meads,
And lay her general territory as waste 20
As she hath done her honours.
_Card._ Shall our blood,
The royal blood of Arragon and Castile,
Be thus attainted?
_Ferd._ Apply desperate physic:
We must not now use balsamum, but fire,
The smarting cupping-glass, for that ’s the mean 25
To purge infected blood, such blood as hers.
There is a kind of pity in mine eye,—
I ’ll give it to my handkercher; and now ’t is here,
I ’ll bequeath this to her bastard.
_Card._ What to do?
_Ferd._ Why, to make soft lint for his mother’s wounds, 30
When I have hew’d her to pieces.
_Card._ Curs’d creature!
Unequal nature, to place women’s hearts
So far upon the left side![3714]
_Ferd._ Foolish men,
That e’er will trust their honour in a bark
Made of so slight weak bulrush as is woman, 35
Apt every minute to sink it!
_Card._ Thus ignorance, when it hath purchas’d honour,
It cannot wield it.
_Ferd._ Methinks I see her laughing.—
Excellent hyena! Talk to me somewhat quickly,
Or my imagination will carry me 40
To see her in the shameful act of sin.
_Card._ With whom?
_Ferd._ Happily with some strong-thigh’d bargeman,
Or one o’ th’ wood-yard that can quoit the sledge[3715]
Or toss the bar, or else some lovely squire
That carries coals up to her privy lodgings. 45
_Card._ You fly beyond your reason.
_Ferd._ Go to, mistress!
’T is not your whore’s milk that shall quench my wild-fire,
But your whore’s blood.
_Card._ How idly shows this rage, which carries you,
As men convey’d by witches through the air, 50
On violent whirlwinds! This intemperate noise
Fitly resembles deaf men’s shrill discourse,
Who talk aloud, thinking all other men
To have their imperfection.
_Ferd._ Have not you
My palsy?
_Card._ Yes, [but] I can be angry 55
Without this rupture. There is not in nature
A thing that makes man so deform’d, so beastly,
As doth intemperate anger. Chide yourself.
You have divers men who never yet express’d
Their strong desire of rest but by unrest, 60
By vexing of themselves. Come, put yourself
In tune.
_Ferd._ So I will only study to seem
The thing I am not. I could kill her now,
In you, or in myself; for I do think
It is some sin in us heaven doth revenge 65
By her.
_Card._ Are you stark mad?
_Ferd._ I would have their bodies
Burnt in a coal-pit with the ventage stopp’d,
That their curs’d smoke might not ascend to heaven;
Or dip the sheets they lie in in pitch or sulphur, 70
Wrap them in ’t, and then light them like a match;
Or else to-boil[3716] their bastard to a cullis,
And give ’t his lecherous father to renew
The sin of his back.
_Card._ I ’ll leave you.
_Ferd._ Nay, I have done.
I am confident, had I been damn’d in hell, 75
And should have heard of this, it would have put me
Into a cold sweat. In, in; I’ll go sleep.
Till I know who leaps my sister, I ’ll not stir:
That known, I ’ll find scorpions to string my whips.
And fix her in a general eclipse. _Exeunt._ 80
ACT III
SCENE I.[3717]
[_Enter_] ANTONIO _and_ DELIO.
_Ant._ Our noble friend, my most beloved Delio!
O, you have been a stranger long at court:
Came you along with the Lord Ferdinand?
_Delio._ I did, sir: and how fares your noble duchess?
_Ant._ Right fortunately well: she ’s an excellent 5
Feeder of pedigrees; since you last saw her,
She hath had two children more, a son and daughter.
_Delio._ Methinks ’t was yesterday. Let me but wink,
And not behold your face, which to mine eye
Is somewhat leaner, verily I should dream 10
It were within this half hour.
_Ant._ You have not been in law, friend Delio,
Nor in prison, nor a suitor at the court,
Nor begg’d the reversion of some great man’s place,
Nor troubled with an old wife, which doth make 15
Your time so insensibly hasten.
_Delio._ Pray, sir, tell me,
Hath not this news arriv’d yet to the ear
Of the lord cardinal?
_Ant._ I fear it hath:
The Lord Ferdinand, that ’s newly come to court,
Doth bear himself right dangerously.
_Delio._ Pray, why? 20
_Ant._ He is so quiet that he seems to sleep
The tempest out, as dormice do in winter.
Those houses that are haunted are most still
Till the devil be up.
_Delio._ What say the common people?
_Ant._ The common rabble do directly say 25
She is a strumpet.
_Delio._ And your graver heads
Which would be politic, what censure they?
_Ant._ They do observe I grow to infinite purchase,[3718]
The left hand way; and all suppose the duchess
Would amend it, if she could; for, say they, 30
Great princes, though they grudge their officers
Should have such large and unconfined means
To get wealth under them, will not complain,
Lest thereby they should make them odious
Unto the people. For other obligation 35
Of love or marriage between her and me
They never dream of.
_Delio._ The Lord Ferdinand
Is going to bed.
[_Enter_ DUCHESS, FERDINAND, _and_ Attendants.]
_Ferd._ I ’ll instantly to bed,
For I am weary.—I am to bespeak
A husband for you.
_Duch._ For me, sir! Pray, who is ’t? 40
_Ferd._ The great Count Malatesti.
_Duch._ Fie upon him!
A count! He’s a mere stick of sugar-candy;
You may look quite through him. When I choose
A husband, I will marry for your honour.
_Ferd._ You shall do well in ’t.—How is ’t, worthy Antonio? 45
_Duch._ But, sir, I am to have private conference with you
About a scandalous report is spread
Touching mine honour.
_Ferd._ Let me be ever deaf to ’t:
One of Pasquil’s paper-bullets,[3719] court-calumny,
A pestilent air, which princes’ palaces 50
Are seldom purg’d of. Yet, say that it were true,
I pour it in your bosom, my fix’d love
Would strongly excuse, extenuate, nay, deny
Faults, were they apparent in you. Go, be safe
In your own innocency.
_Duch._ [_Aside._] O bless’d comfort! 55
This deadly air is purg’d.
_Exeunt_ [DUCHESS, ANTONIO, DELIO, _and_ Attendants.]
_Ferd._ Her guilt treads on
Hot-burning coulters.[3720]
[_Enter_ BOSOLA.]
Now, Bosola,
How thrives our intelligence?[3721]
_Bos._ Sir, uncertainly:
’T is rumour’d she hath had three bastards, but
By whom we may go read i’ th’ stars.
_Ferd._ Why, some 60
Hold opinion all things are written there.
_Bos._ Yes, if we could find spectacles to read them.
I do suspect there hath been some sorcery
Us’d on the duchess.
_Ferd._ Sorcery! to what purpose?
_Bos._ To make her dote on some desertless fellow 65
She shames to acknowledge.
_Ferd._ Can your faith give way
To think there ’s power in potions or in charms,
To make us love whether we will or no?
_Bos._ Most certainly.
_Ferd._ Away! these are mere gulleries,[3722] horrid things, 70
Invented by some cheating mountebanks
To abuse us. Do you think that herbs or charms
Can force the will? Some trials have been made
In this foolish practice, but the ingredients
Were lenitive[3723] poisons, such as are of force 75
To make the patient mad; and straight the witch
Swears by equivocation they are in love.
The witch-craft lies in her rank blood. This night
I will force confession from her. You told me
You had got, within these two days, a false key 80
Into her bed-chamber.
_Bos._ I have.
_Ferd._ As I would wish.
_Bos._ What do you intend to do?
_Ferd._ Can you guess?
_Bos._ No.
_Ferd._ Do not ask, then:
He that can compass me, and know my drifts,
May say he hath put a girdle ’bout the world,
And sounded all her quick-sands.
_Bos._ I do not 85
Think so.
_Ferd._ What do you think, then, pray?
_Bos._ That you
Are your own chronicle too much, and grossly
Flatter yourself.
_Ferd._ Give me thy hand; I thank thee:
I never gave pension but to flatterers,
Till I entertained thee. Farewell. 90
That friend a great man’s ruin strongly checks,
Who rails into his belief all his defects. _Exeunt._
SCENE II.[3724]
_Enter_ DUCHESS, ANTONIO, _and_ CARIOLA.
_Duch._ Bring me the casket hither, and the glass.—
You get no lodging here to-night, my lord.
_Ant._ Indeed, I must persuade one.
_Duch._ Very good:
I hope in time ’t will grow into a custom,
That noblemen shall come with cap and knee 5
To purchase a night’s lodging of their wives.
_Ant._ I must lie here.
_Duch._ Must! You are a lord of mis-rule.
_Ant._ Indeed, my rule is only in the night.
_Duch._ To what use will you put me?
_Ant._ We ’ll sleep together.
_Duch._ Alas, what pleasure can two lovers find in sleep? 10
_Cari._ My lord, I lie with her often, and I know
She ’ll much disquiet you.
_Ant._ See, you are complain’d of.
_Cari._ For she’s the sprawling’st bedfellow.
_Ant._ I shall like her the better for that.
_Cari._ Sir, shall I ask you a question? 15
_Ant._ I pray thee, Cariola.
_Cari._ Wherefore still when you lie with my lady
Do you rise so early?
_Ant._ Labouring men
Count the clock oft’nest, Cariola,
Are glad when their task’s ended.
_Duch._ I ’ll stop your mouth. [_Kisses him._] 20
_Ant._ Nay, that ’s but one; Venus had two soft doves
To draw her chariot; I must have another.— [_She kisses him again._]
When wilt thou marry, Cariola?
_Cari._ Never, my lord.
_Ant._ O, fie upon this single life! forgo it.
We read how Daphne, for her peevish [flight,][3725]
Became a fruitless bay-tree; Syrinx turn’d 26
To the pale empty reed; Anaxarete
Was frozen into marble: whereas those
Which married, or prov’d kind unto their friends,
Were by a gracious influence trans-shap’d 30
Into the olive, pomegranate, mulberry,
Became flowers, precious stones, or eminent stars.
_Cari._ This is a vain poetry: but I pray you, tell me,
If there were propos’d me, wisdom, riches, and beauty,
In three several young men, which should I choose? 35
_Ant._ ’T is a hard question. This was Paris’ case,
And he was blind in ’t, and there was a great cause;
For how was ’t possible he could judge right,
Having three amorous goddesses in view,
And they stark naked? ’T was a motion 40
Were able to benight the apprehension
Of the severest counsellor of Europe.
Now I look on both your faces so well form’d,
It puts me in mind of a question I would ask.
_Cari._ What is ’t?
_Ant._ I do wonder why hard-favour’d ladies,
For the most part, keep worse-favour’d waiting-women 46
To attend them, and cannot endure fair ones.
_Duch._ O, that ’s soon answer’d.
Did you ever in your life know an ill painter
Desire to have his dwelling next door to the shop 50
Of an excellent picture-maker? ’T would disgrace
His face-making, and undo him. I prithee,
When were we so merry? My hair tangles.
_Ant._ Pray thee, Cariola, let’s steal forth the room,
And let her talk to herself: I have divers times
Serv’d her the like, when she hath chaf’d extremely. 56
I love to see her angry. Softly, Cariola.
_Exeunt_ [ANTONIO _and_ CARIOLA].
_Duch._ Doth not the colour of my hair ’gin to change?
When I wax gray, I shall have all the court
Powder their hair with arras,[3726] to be like me. 60
You have cause to love me; I ent’red you into my heart
[_Enter_ FERDINAND _unseen_.]
Before you would vouchsafe to call for the keys.
We shall one day have my brothers take you napping.
Methinks his presence, being now in court,
Should make you keep your own bed; but you ’ll say 65
Love mixt with fear is sweetest. I ’ll assure you,
You shall get no more children till my brothers
Consent to be your gossips. Have you lost your tongue?
’Tis welcome: 69
For know, whether I am doom’d to live or die,
I can do both like a prince.
_Ferd._ Die, then, quickly.
_Giving her a poniard_.
Virtue, where art thou hid? What hideous thing
Is it that doth eclipse thee?
_Duch._ Pray, sir, hear me.
_Ferd._ Or is it true thou art but a bare name,
And no essential thing?
_Duch._ Sir——
_Ferd._ Do not speak. 75
_Duch._ No, sir:
I will plant my soul in mine ears, to hear you.
_Ferd._ O most imperfect light of human reason,
That mak’st [us] so unhappy to foresee
What we can least prevent! Pursue thy wishes,
And glory in them: there ’s in shame no comfort 81
But to be past all bounds and sense of shame.
_Duch._ I pray, sir, hear me: I am married.
_Ferd._ So!
_Duch._ Happily, not to your liking: but for that,
Alas, your shears do come untimely now 85
To clip the bird’s wings that ’s already flown!
Will you see my husband?
_Ferd._ Yes, if I could change
Eyes with a basilisk.
_Duch._ Sure, you came hither
By his confederacy.
_Ferd._ The howling of a wolf 89
Is music to thee, screech-owl: prithee, peace.—
Whate’er thou art that hast enjoy’d my sister,
For I am sure thou hear’st me, for thine own sake
Let me not know thee. I came hither prepar’d
To work thy discovery; yet am now persuaded
It would beget such violent effects 95
As would damn us both. I would not for ten millions
I had beheld thee: therefore use all means
I never may have knowledge of thy name;
Enjoy thy lust still, and a wretched life,
On that condition.—And for thee, vild woman,
If thou do wish thy lecher may grow old 101
In thy embracements, I would have thee build
Such a room for him as our anchorites
To holier use inhabit. Let not the sun
Shine on him till he ’s dead; let dogs and monkeys 105
Only converse with him, and such dumb things
To whom nature denies use to sound his name;
Do not keep a paraquito, lest she learn it;
If thou do love him, cut out thine own tongue,
Lest it bewray him.
_Duch._ Why might not I marry? 110
I have not gone about in this to create
Any new world or custom.
_Ferd._ Thou art undone;
And thou hast ta’en that massy sheet of lead
That hid thy husband’s bones, and folded it
About my heart.
_Duch._ Mine bleeds for ’t.
_Ferd._ Thine! thy heart! 115
What should I name ’t, unless a hollow bullet
Fill’d with unquenchable wild-fire?
_Duch._ You are in this
Too strict; and were you not my princely brother,
I would say, too wilful: my reputation
Is safe.
_Ferd._ Dost thou know what reputation is?
I ’ll tell thee,—to small purpose, since th’ instruction 121
Comes now too late.
Upon a time Reputation, Love, and Death,
Would travel o’er the world; and it was concluded
That they should part, and take three several ways. 125
Death told them, they should find him in great battles,
Or cities plagu’d with plagues; Love gives them counsel
To inquire for him ’mongst unambitious shepherds,
Where dowries were not talk’d of and sometimes
’Mongst quiet kindred that had nothing left 130
By their dead parents: ’Stay,’ quoth Reputation,
’Do not forsake me; for it is my nature,
If once I part from any man I meet,
I am never found again.’ And so for you:
You have shook hands with Reputation, 135
And made him invisible. So, fare you well:
I will never see you more.
_Duch._ Why should only I,
Of all the other princes of the world,
Be cas’d up, like a holy relic? I have youth
And a little beauty.
_Ferd._ So you have some virgins 140
That are witches. I will never see thee more. _Exit._
_Re-enter_ ANTONIO _with a pistol_, [_and_ CARIOLA.]
_Duch._ You saw this apparition?
_Ant._ Yes: we are
Betray’d. How came he hither? I should turn
This to thee, for that.
_Cari._ Pray, sir, do; and when
That you have cleft my heart, you shall read there 145
Mine innocence.
_Duch._ That gallery gave him entrance.
_Ant._ I would this terrible thing would come again,
That, standing on my guard, I might relate
My warrantable love.— (_She shows the poniard._)
Ha! what means this?
_Duch._ He left this with me.
_Ant._ And it seems did wish 150
You would use it on yourself.
_Duch._ His action seem’d
To intend so much.
_Ant._ This hath a handle to ’t,
As well as a point: turn it towards him, and
So fasten the keen edge in his rank gall. [_Knocking within._]
How now! who knocks? More earthquakes?
_Duch._ I stand 155
As if a mine beneath my feet were ready
To be blown up.
_Cari._ ’T is Bosola.
_Duch._ Away!
O misery! methinks unjust actions
Should wear these masks and curtains, and not we.
You must instantly part hence: I have fashion’d it already. 160
_Exit_ ANTONIO.
[_Enter_ BOSOLA.]
_Bos._ The duke your brother is ta’en up in a whirlwind;
Hath took horse, and ’s rid post to Rome.
_Duch._ So late?
_Bos._ He told me, as he mounted into th’ saddle,
You were undone.
_Duch._ Indeed, I am very near it.
_Bos._ What’s the matter? 165
_Duch._ Antonio, the master of our household,
Hath dealt so falsely with me in ’s accounts.
My brother stood engag’d with me for money
Ta’en up of certain Neapolitan Jews,
And Antonio lets the bonds be forfeit. 170
_Bos._ Strange!—[_Aside._] This is cunning.
_Duch._ And hereupon
My brother’s bills at Naples are protested
Against.—Call up our officers.
_Bos._ I shall. _Exit._
[_Re-enter_ ANTONIO.]
_Duch._ The place that you must fly to is Ancona:
Hire a house there; I ’ll send after you 175
My treasure and my jewels. Our weak safety
Runs upon enginous wheels:[3727] short syllables
Must stand for periods. I must now accuse you
Of such a feigned crime as Tasso calls
_Magnanima menzogna_, a noble lie, 180
’Cause it must shield our honours.—Hark! they are coming.
[_Re-enter_ BOSOLA _and_ Officers.]
_Ant._ Will your grace hear me?
_Duch._ I have got well by you; you have yielded me
A million of loss: I am like to inherit
The people’s curses for your stewardship. 185
You had the trick in audit-time to be sick,
Till I had sign’d your quietus;[3728] and that cur’d you
Without help of a doctor.—Gentlemen,
I would have this man be an example to you all;
So shall you hold my favour; I pray, let him;
For h’as done that, alas, you would not think of, 191
And, because I intend to be rid of him,
I mean not to publish.—Use your fortune elsewhere.
_Ant._ I am strongly arm’d to brook my overthrow,
As commonly men bear with a hard year. 195
I will not blame the cause on ’t; but do think
The necessity of my malevolent star
Procures this, not her humour. O, the inconstant
And rotten ground of service! You may see,
’T is even like him, that in a winter night, 200
Takes a long slumber o’er a dying fire,
A-loth to part from ’t; yet parts thence as cold
As when he first sat down.
_Duch._ We do confiscate,
Towards the satisfying of your accounts,
All that you have.
_Ant._ I am all yours; and ’t is very fit 205
All mine should be so.
_Duch._ So, sir, you have your pass.
_Ant._ You may see, gentlemen, what ’t is to serve
A prince with body and soul. _Exit._
_Bos._ Here ’s an example for extortion: what moisture is drawn out
of the sea, when foul (210) weather comes, pours down, and runs into
the sea again.
_Duch._ I would know what are your opinions
Of this Antonio. 214
_2 Off._ He could not abide to see a pig’s head gaping: I thought
your grace would find him a Jew.
_3 Off._ I would you had been his officer, for your own sake.
_4 Off._ You would have had more money. 220
_1 Off._ He stopp’d his ears with black wool, and to those came to
him for money said he was thick of hearing.
_2 Off._ Some said he was an hermaphrodite, for he could not abide a
woman. 225
_4 Off._ How scurvy proud he would look when the treasury was full!
Well, let him go.
_1 Off._ Yes, and the chippings of the buttery fly after him, to
scour his gold chain.[3729] 229
_Duch._ Leave us.—— _Exeunt_ [Officers].
What do you think of these?
_Bos._ That these are rogues that in ’s prosperity,
But to have waited on his fortune, could have wish’d
His dirty stirrup riveted through their noses,
And follow’d after ’s mule, like a bear in a ring; 235
Would have prostituted their daughters to his lust;
Made their first-born intelligencers;[3730] thought none happy
But such as were born under his blest planet,
And wore his livery: and do these lice drop off now?
Well, never look to have the like again: 240
He hath left a sort[3731] of flatt’ring rogues behind him;
Their doom must follow. Princes pay flatterers
In their own money: flatterers dissemble their vices,
And they dissemble their lies; that ’s justice.
Alas, poor gentleman! 245
_Duch._ Poor! he hath amply fill’d his coffers.
_Bos._ Sure, he was too honest. Pluto,[3732] the god of riches,
When he ’s sent by Jupiter to any man,
He goes limping, to signify that wealth
That comes on God’s name comes slowly; but when he ’s sent 250
On the devil’s errand, he rides post and comes in by scuttles.[3733]
Let me show you what a most unvalu’d jewel
You have in a wanton humour thrown away,
To bless the man shall find him. He was an excellent
Courtier and most faithful; a soldier that thought it 255
As beastly to know his own value too little
As devilish to acknowledge it too much.
Both his virtue and form deserv’d a far better fortune:
His discourse rather delighted to judge itself than show itself:
His breast was fill’d with all perfection, 260
And yet it seem’d a private whisp’ring-room,
It made so little noise of ’t.
_Duch._ But he was basely descended.
_Bos._ Will you make yourself a mercenary herald,
Rather to examine men’s pedigrees than virtues? 265
You shall want[3734] him:
For know an honest statesman to a prince
Is like a cedar planted by a spring;
The spring bathes the tree’s root, the grateful tree
Rewards it with his shadow: you have not done so. 270
I would sooner swim to the Bermoothes on
Two politicians’ rotten bladders, tied
Together with an intelligencer’s heart-string,
Than depend on so changeable a prince’s favour.
Fare thee well, Antonio! Since the malice of the world 275
Would needs down with thee, it cannot be said yet
That any ill happen’d unto thee, considering thy fall
Was accompanied with virtue.
_Duch._ O, you render me excellent music!
_Bos._ Say you?
_Duch._ This good one that you speak of is my husband. 280
_Bos._ Do I not dream? Can this ambitious age
Have so much goodness in ’t as to prefer
A man merely for worth, without these shadows
Of wealth and painted honours? Possible?
_Duch._ I have had three children by him.
_Bos._ Fortunate lady! 285
For you have made your private nuptial bed
The humble and fair seminary of peace,
No question but: many an unbenefic’d scholar
Shall pray for you for this deed, and rejoice
That some preferment in the world can yet 290
Arise from merit. The virgins of your land
That have no dowries shall hope your example
Will raise them to rich husbands. Should you want
Soldiers, ’t would make the very Turks and Moors
Turn Christians, and serve you for this act. 295
Last, the neglected poets of your time,
In honour of this trophy of a man,
Rais’d by that curious engine, your white hand,
Shall thank you in your grave for ’t, and make that
More reverend than all the cabinets 300
Of living princes. For Antonio,
His fame shall likewise flow from many a pen,
When heralds shall want coats to sell to men.
_Duch._ As I taste comfort in this friendly speech,
So would I find concealment. 305
_Bos._ O, the secret of my prince,
Which I will wear on th’ inside of my heart!
_Duch._ You shall take charge of all my coin and jewels,
And follow him; for he retires himself
To Ancona.
_Bos._ So.
_Duch._ Whither, within few days, 310
I mean to follow thee.
_Bos._ Let me think:
I would wish your grace to feign a pilgrimage
To our Lady of Loretto, scarce seven leagues
From fair Ancona; so may you depart
Your country with more honour, and your flight
Will seem a princely progress, retaining 316
Your usual train about you.
_Duch._ Sir, your direction
Shall lead me by the hand.
_Cari._ In my opinion,
She were better progress to the baths at Lucca,
Or go visit the Spa 320
In Germany; for, if you will believe me,
I do not like this jesting with religion,
This feigned pilgrimage.
_Duch._ Thou art a superstitious fool:
Prepare us instantly for our departure. 325
Past sorrows, let us moderately lament them,
For those to come, seek wisely to prevent them.
[_Exeunt_ DUCHESS _and_ CARIOLA.]
_Bos._ A politician is the devil’s quilted anvil;
He fashions all sins on him, and the blows
Are never heard: he may work in a lady’s chamber, 330
As here for proof. What rests[3735] but I reveal
All to my lord? O, this base quality[3736]
Of intelligencer! Why, every quality i’ th’ world
Prefers but gain or commendation:
Now, for this act I am certain to be rais’d, 335
And men that paint weeds to the life are prais’d. _Exit._
SCENE III.[3737]
[_Enter_] CARDINAL, FERDINAND, MALATESTI, PESCARA, DELIO, _and_ SILVIO.
_Card._ Must we turn soldier, then?
_Mal._ The emperor,
Hearing your worth that way, ere you attain’d
This reverend garment, joins you in commission
With the right fortunate soldier the Marquis of Pescara,
And the famous Lannoy.
_Card._ He that had the honour 5
Of taking the French king prisoner?
_Mal._ The same.
Here’s a plot drawn for a new fortification
At Naples.
_Ferd._ This great Count Malatesti, I perceive,
Hath got employment?
_Delio._ No employment, my lord;
A marginal note in the muster-book that he is 10
A voluntary lord.
_Ferd._ He’s no soldier?
_Delio._ He has worn gun-powder in ’s hollow tooth for the tooth-ache.
_Sil._ He comes to the leaguer with a full intent
To eat fresh beef and garlic, means to stay
Till the scent be gone, and straight return to court. 15
_Delio._ He hath read all the late service
As the City Chronicle relates it;
And keeps two pewterers going, only to express
Battles in model.
_Sil._ Then he ’ll fight by the book.
_Delio._ By the almanac, I think, 20
To choose good days and shun the critical;
That’s his mistress’ scarf.
_Sil._ Yes, he protests
He would do much for that taffeta.
_Delio._ I think he would run away from a battle,
To save it from taking prisoner.
_Sil._ He is horribly afraid 25
Gun-powder will spoil the perfume on ’t.
_Delio._ I saw a Dutchman break his pate once
For calling him a pot-gun; he made his head
Have a bore in ’t like a musket.
_Sil._ I would he had made a touch-hole to ’t. 30
He is indeed a guarded sumpter-cloth,[3738]
Only for the remove of the court.
[_Enter_ BOSOLA.]
_Pes._ Bosola arriv’d! What should be the business?
Some falling-out among the cardinals.
These factions amongst great men, they are like 35
Foxes, when their heads are divided,
They carry fire in their tails, and all the country
About them goes to wrack for ’t.
_Sil._ What’s that Bosola?
_Delio._ I knew him in Padua,—a fantastical scholar, like such who
study to know how many knots was in Hercules’ club, of what colour 41
Achilles’ beard was, or whether Hector were not troubled with the
tooth-ache. He hath studied himself half blear-ey’d to know the true
symmetry of Caesar’s nose by a shoeing-horn; (45) and this he did to
gain the name of a speculative man.
_Pes._ Mark Prince Ferdinand:
A very salamander lives in ’s eye,
To mock the eager violence of fire. 50
_Sil._ That cardinal hath made more bad faces with his oppression
than ever Michael Angelo made good ones. He lifts up ’s nose, like a
foul porpoise before a storm.
_Pes._ The Lord Ferdinand laughs.
_Delio._ Like a deadly cannon 55
That lightens ere it smokes.
_Pes._ These are your true pangs of death,
The pangs of life, that struggle with great statesmen.
_Delio._ In such a deformed silence witches whisper their charms.
_Card._ Doth she make religion her riding-hood 60
To keep her from the sun and tempest?
_Ferd._ That, that damns her. Methinks her fault and beauty,
Blended together, show like leprosy,
The whiter the fouler. I make it a question
Whether her beggarly brats were ever christ’ned. 65
_Card._ I will instantly solicit the state of Ancona
To have them banish’d.
_Ferd._ You are for Loretto:
I shall not be at your ceremony, fare you well—
Write to the Duke of Malfi, my young nephew,
She had by her first husband, and acquaint him 70
With ’s mother’s honesty.
_Bos._ I will.
_Ferd._ Antonio!
A slave that only smell’d of ink and counters,
And nev’r in ’s life look’d like a gentleman,
But in the audit-time.—Go, go presently,
Draw me out an hundred and fifty of our horse, 75
And meet me at the foot-bridge. _Exeunt._
SCENE IV.
[_Enter_] Two Pilgrims _to the Shrine of our_ Lady of Loretto.
_1 Pil._ I have not seen a goodlier shrine than this;
Yet I have visited many.
_2 Pil._ The Cardinal of Arragon
Is this day to resign his cardinal’s hat;
His sister duchess likewise is arriv’d
To pay her vow of pilgrimage. I expect 5
A noble ceremony.
_1 Pil._ No question.—They come.
[_Here the ceremony of the Cardinal’s instalment in the habit of a
soldier performed in delivering up his cross, hat, robes and ring at
the shrine, and investing him with sword, helmet, shield, and spurs.
Then_ ANTONIO, _the_ DUCHESS _and their children, having presented
themselves at the shrine, are, by a form of banishment in dumb-show
expressed towards them by the_ CARDINAL _and the state of Ancona,
banished: during all which ceremony, this ditty is sung, to very
solemn music, by divers church-men; and then exeunt_ [_all except
the_ Two Pilgrims].
Arms and honours deck thy story,[3739]
To thy fame’s eternal glory!
Adverse fortune ever fly thee;
No disastrous fate come nigh thee! 10
I alone will sing thy praises,
Whom to honour virtue raises,
And thy study, that divine is,
Bent to martial discipline is,
Lay aside all those robes lie by thee; 15
Crown thy arts with arms, they ’ll beautify thee.
O worthy of worthiest name, adorn’d in this manner,
Lead bravely thy forces on under war’s warlike banner!
O, mayst thou prove fortunate in all martial courses!
Guide thou still by skill in arts and forces! 20
Victory attend thee nigh, whilst fame sings loud thy powers;
Triumphant conquest crown thy head, and blessings pour down showers!
_1 Pil._ Here’s a strange turn of state! who would have thought
So great a lady would have match’d herself
Unto so mean a person? Yet the cardinal 25
Bears himself much too cruel.
_2 Pil._ They are banish’d.
_1 Pil._ But I would ask what power hath this state
Of Ancona to determine of a free prince?
_2 Pil._ They are a free state, sir, and her brother show’d
How that the Pope, fore-bearing of her looseness, 30
Hath seiz’d into th’ protection of the church
The dukedom which she held as dowager.
_1 Pil._ But by what justice?
_2 Pil._ Sure, I think by none,
Only her brother’s instigation.
_1 Pil._ What was it with such violence he took 35
Off from her finger?
_2 Pil._ ’T was her wedding-ring;
Which he vow’d shortly he would sacrifice
To his revenge.
_1 Pil._ Alas, Antonio!
If that a man be thrust into a well, 39
No matter who sets hand to ’t, his own weight
Will bring him sooner to th’ bottom. Come, let ’s hence.
Fortune makes this conclusion general,
All things do help th’ unhappy man to fall. _Exeunt._
SCENE V.[3740]
[_Enter_] DUCHESS, ANTONIO, Children, CARIOLA, _and_ Servants.
_Duch._ Banish’d Ancona!
_Ant._ Yes, you see what power
Lightens in great men’s breath.
_Duch._ Is all our train
Shrunk to this poor remainder?
_Ant._ These poor men,
Which have got little in your service, vow
To take your fortune: but your wiser bunttings,[3741] 5
Now they are fledg’d, are gone.
_Duch._ They have done wisely.
This puts me in mind of death: physicians thus,
With their hands full of money, use to give o’er
Their patients.
_Ant._ Right the fashion of the world: 9
From decay’d fortunes every flatterer shrinks;
Men cease to build where the foundation sinks.
_Duch._ I had a very strange dream to-night.
_Ant._ What was ’t?
_Duch._ Methought I wore my coronet of state,
And on a sudden all the diamonds
Were chang’d to pearls.
_Ant._ My interpretation 15
Is, you ’ll weep shortly; for to me the pearls
Do signify your tears.
_Duch._ The birds, that live i’ th’ field
On the wild benefit of nature, live
Happier than we: for they may choose their mates,
And carol their sweet pleasures to the spring. 20
[_Enter_ BOSOLA _with a letter_.]
_Bos._ You are happily o’erta’en.
_Duch._ From my brother?
_Bos._ Yes, from the Lord Ferdinand your brother
All love and safety.
_Duch._ Thou dost blanch mischief,
Would’st make it white. See, see, like to calm weather
At sea before a tempest, false hearts speak fair 25
To those they intend most mischief. [_Reads._]
“Send Antonio to me; I want his head in a business.”
A politic equivocation!
He doth not want your counsel, but your head;
That is, he cannot sleep till you be dead. 30
And here ’s another pitfall that ’s strew’d o’er
With roses: mark it, ’t is a cunning one: [_Reads._]
“I stand engaged for your husband for several debts at Naples: let
not that trouble him; I had rather have his heart than his money.”—
And I believe so too.
_Bos._ What do you believe? 36
_Duch._ That he so much distrusts my husband’s love,
He will by no means believe his heart is with him
Until he see it: the devil is not cunning enough
To circumvent us in riddles. 40
_Bos._ Will you reject that noble and free league
Of amity and love which I present you?
_Duch._ Their league is like that of some politic kings,
Only to make themselves of strength and power
To be our after-ruin: tell them so. 45
_Bos._ And what from you?
_Ant._ Thus tell him; I will not come.
_Bos._ And what of this?
_Ant._ My brothers have dispers’d
Bloodhounds abroad; which till I hear are muzzl’d,
No truce, though hatch’d with ne’er such politic skill,
Is safe, that hangs upon our enemies’ will. 50
I ’ll not come at them.
_Bos._ This proclaims your breeding.
Every small thing draws a base mind to fear
As the adamant draws iron. Fare you well, sir;
You shall shortly hear from ’s. _Exit._
_Duch._ I suspect some ambush;
Therefore by all my love I do conjure you 55
To take your eldest son, and fly towards Milan,
Let us not venture all this poor remainder
In one unlucky bottom.
_Ant._ You counsel safely.
Best of my life, farewell. Since we must part,
Heaven hath a hand in ’t; but no otherwise 60
Than as some curious artist takes in sunder
A clock or watch, when it is out of frame,
To bring ’t in better order.
_Duch._ I know not which is best,
To see you dead, or part with you. Farewell, boy: 65
Thou art happy that thou hast not understanding
To know thy misery; for all our wit
And reading brings us to a truer sense
Of sorrow.—In the eternal church, sir,
I do hope we shall not part thus.
_Ant._ O, be of comfort! 70
Make patience a noble fortitude,
And think not how unkindly we are us’d:
Man, like to cassia, is prov’d best, being bruis’d.
_Duch._ Must I, like to a slave-born Russian,
Account it praise to suffer tyranny? 75
And yet, O heaven, thy heavy hand is in ’t!
I have seen my little boy oft scourge his top,
And compar’d myself to ’t: naught made me e’er
Go right but heaven’s scourge-stick.
_Ant._ Do not weep:
Heaven fashion’d us of nothing; and we strive
To bring ourselves to nothing.—Farewell, Cariola, 81
And thy sweet armful.—If I do never see thee more,
Be a good mother to your little ones,
And save them from the tiger: fare you well.
_Duch._ Let me look upon you once more, for that speech 85
Came from a dying father. Your kiss is colder
Than that I have seen an holy anchorite
Give to a dead man’s skull.
_Ant._ My heart is turn’d to a heavy lump of lead,
With which I sound my danger: fare you well.
_Exeunt_ [ANTONIO _and his son_].
_Duch._ My laurel is all withered. 91
_Cari._ Look, madam, what a troop of armed men
Make toward us!
_Re-enter_ BOSOLA [_visarded_,] _with a Guard_.
_Duch._ O, they are very welcome:
When Fortune’s wheel is over-charg’d with princes,
The weight makes it move swift: I would have my ruin 95
Be sudden.—I am your adventure, am I not?
_Bos._ You are: you must see your husband no more.
_Duch._ What devil art thou that counterfeit’st heaven’s thunder?
_Bos._ Is that terrible? I would have you tell me whether
Is that note worse that frights the silly birds 100
Out of the corn, or that which doth allure them
To the nets? You have heark’ned to the last too much.
_Duch._ O misery! like to a rusty o’ercharg’d cannon,
Shall I never fly in pieces? Come, to what prison?
_Bos._ To none.
_Duch._ Whither, then?
_Bos._ To your palace.
_Duch._ I have heard 105
That Charon’s boat serves to convey all o’er
The dismal lake, but brings none back again.
_Bos._ Your brothers mean you safety and pity.
_Duch._ Pity!
With such a pity men preserve alive
Pheasants and quails, when they are not fat enough 110
To be eaten.
_Bos._ These are your children?
_Duch._ Yes.
_Bos._ Can they prattle?
_Duch._ No:
But I intend, since they were born accurs’d,
Curses shall be their first language.
_Bos._ Fie, madam!
Forget this base, low fellow——
_Duch._ Were I a man, 115
I ’d beat that counterfeit face[3742] into thy other.
_Bos._ One of no birth.
_Duch._ Say that he was born mean,
Man is most happy when ’s own actions
Be arguments and examples of his virtue.
_Bos._ A barren, beggarly virtue. 120
_Duch._ I prithee, who is greatest? Can you tell?
Sad tales befit my woe: I ’ll tell you one.
A salmon, as she swam unto the sea,
Met with a dog-fish, who encounters her
With this rough language; ’Why art thou so bold 125
To mix thyself with our high state of floods,
Being no eminent courtier, but one
That for the calmest and fresh time o’ th’ year
Dost live in shallow rivers, rank’st thyself
With silly smelts and shrimps? And darest thou 130
Pass by our dog-ship without reverence?’
’O,’ quoth the salmon, ’sister, be at peace:
Thank Jupiter we both have pass’d the net!
Our value never can be truly known,
Till in the fisher’s basket we be shown: 135
I’ th’ market then my price may be the higher,
Even when I am nearest to the cook and fire.’
So to great men the moral may be stretched;
Men oft are valu’d high, when they ’re most wretched.—
But come, whither you please. I am arm’d ’gainst misery; 140
Bent to all sways of the oppressor’s will.
There ’s no deep valley but near some great hill. _Exeunt._
ACT IV
SCENE I.[3743]
[_Enter_] FERDINAND _and_ BOSOLA.
_Ferd._ How doth our sister duchess bear herself
In her imprisonment?
_Bos._ Nobly: I ’ll describe her.
She ’s sad as one long us’d to ’t, and she seems
Rather to welcome the end of misery
Than shun it; a behaviour so noble 5
As gives a majesty to adversity:
You may discern the shape of loveliness
More perfect in her tears than in her smiles:
She will muse four hours together; and her silence,
Methinks, expresseth more than if she spake. 10
_Ferd._ Her melancholy seems to be fortified
With a strange disdain.
_Bos._ ’Ti s so; and this restraint,
Like English mastives that grow fierce with tying,
Makes her too passionately apprehend
Those pleasures she is kept from.
_Ferd._ Curse upon her! 15
I will no longer study in the book
Of another’s heart. Inform her what I told you. _Exit._
[_Enter_ DUCHESS _and_ Attendants.]
_Bos._ All comfort to your grace!
_Duch._ I will have none.
Pray thee, why dost thou wrap thy poison’d pills
In gold and sugar? 20
_Bos._ Your elder brother, the Lord Ferdinand,
Is come to visit you, and sends you word,
’Cause once he rashly made a solemn vow
Never to see you more, he comes i’ th’ night;
And prays you gently neither torch nor taper 25
Shine in your chamber. He will kiss your hand,
And reconcile himself; but for his vow
He dares not see you.
_Duch._ At his pleasure.—
Take hence the lights.—He’s come.
[_Exeunt_ Attendants _with lights_.]
[_Enter_ FERDINAND.]
_Ferd._ Where are you?
_Duch._ Here, sir.
_Ferd._ This darkness suits you well.
_Duch._ I would ask you pardon. 30
_Ferd._ You have it;
For I account it the honorabl’st revenge,
Where I may kill, to pardon.—Where are your cubs?
_Duch._ Whom?
_Ferd._ Call them your children;
For though our national law distinguish bastards 35
From true legitimate issue, compassionate nature
Makes them all equal.
_Duch._ Do you visit me for this?
You violate a sacrament o’ th’ church
Shall make you howl in hell for ’t.
_Ferd._ It had been well 39
Could you have liv’d thus always; for, indeed,
You were too much i’ th’ light:—but no more;
I come to seal my peace with you. Here ’s a hand
_Gives her a dead man’s hand._
To which you have vow’d much love; the ring upon ’t
You gave.
_Duch._ I affectionately kiss it.
_Ferd._ Pray, do, and bury the print of it in your heart. 45
I will leave this ring with you for a love-token;
And the hand as sure as the ring; and do not doubt
But you shall have the heart too. When you need a friend,
Send it to him that ow’d it; you shall see
Whether he can aid you.
_Duch._ You are very cold: 50
I fear you are not well after your travel.—
Ha! lights!——O, horrible!
_Ferd._ Let her have lights enough. _Exit._
_Duch._ What witchcraft doth he practise, that he hath left
A dead man’s hand here?
_Here is discovered_, _behind a traverse_,[3744] _the artificial
figures of_ ANTONIO _and his children_, _appearing as if they were
dead_.
_Bos._ Look you, here ’s the piece from which ’t was ta’en. 55
He doth present you this sad spectacle,
That, now you know directly they are dead,
Hereafter you may wisely cease to grieve
For that which cannot be recovered.
_Duch._ There is not between heaven and earth one wish 60
I stay for after this. It wastes me more
Than were ’t my picture, fashion’d out of wax,
Stuck with a magical needle, and then buried
In some foul dung hill; and yon ’s an excellent property
For a tyrant, which I would account mercy.
_Bos._ What ’s that? 65
_Duch._ If they would bind me to that lifeless trunk,
And let me freeze to death.
_Bos._ Come, you must live.
_Duch._ That ’s the greatest torture souls feel in hell,
In hell, that they must live, and cannot die.
Portia,[3745] I ’ll new kindle thy coals again, 70
And revive the rare and almost dead example
Of a loving wife.
_Bos._ O, fie! despair? Remember
You are a Christian.
_Duch._ The church enjoins fasting:
I ’ll starve myself to death.
_Bos._ Leave this vain sorrow.
Things being at the worst begin to mend: the bee 75
When he hath shot his sting into your hand,
May then play with your eye-lid.
_Duch._ Good comfortable fellow.
Persuade a wretch that’s broke upon the wheel
To have all his bones new set; entreat him live
To be executed again. Who must despatch me?
I account this world a tedious theatre, 81
For I do play a part in ’t ’gainst my will.
_Bos._ Come, be of comfort; I will save your life.
_Duch._ Indeed, I have not leisure to tend so small a business.
_Bos._ Now, by my life, I pity you.
_Duch._ Thou art a fool, then, 85
To waste thy pity on a thing so wretched
As cannot pity itself. I am full of daggers.
Puff, let me blow these vipers from me.
[_Enter_ Servant.]
What are you?
_Serv._ One that wishes you long life.
_Duch._ I would thou wert hang’d for the horrible curse 90
Thou hast given me: I shall shortly grow one
Of the miracles of pity. I ’ll go pray;— [_Exit_ Serv.]
No, I ’ll go curse.
_Bos._ O, fie!
_Duch._ I could curse the stars—
_Bos._ O, fearful!
_Duch._ And those three smiling seasons of the year
Into a Russian winter; nay, the world 95
To its first chaos.
_Bos._ Look you, the stars shine still.
_Duch._ O, but you must
Remember, my curse hath a great way to go.—
Plagues, that make lanes through largest families,
Consume them!—
_Bos._ Fie, lady!
_Duch._ Let them, like tyrants, 100
Never be remembered but for the ill they have done;
Let all the zealous prayers of mortified
Churchmen forget them!—
_Bos._ O, uncharitable!
_Duch._ Let heaven a little while cease crowning martyrs,
To punish them!— 105
Go, howl them this, and say, I long to bleed:
It is some mercy when men kill with speed. _Exit._
[_Re-enter_ FERDINAND.]
_Ferd._ Excellent, as I would wish; she’s plagu’d in art.[3746]
These presentations are but fram’d in wax
By the curious master in that quality,[3747] 110
Vincentio Lauriola, and she takes them
For true substantial bodies.
_Bos._ Why do you do this?
_Ferd._ To bring her to despair.
_Bos._ Faith, end here,
And go no farther in your cruelty:
Send her a penitential garment to put on 115
Next to her delicate skin, and furnish her
With beads and prayer-books.
_Ferd._ Damn her! that body of hers,
While that my blood ran pure in ’t, was more worth
Than that which thou wouldst comfort, call’d a soul. 119
I will send her masques of common courtesans,
Have her meat serv’d up by bawds and ruffians,
And, ’cause she ’ll needs be mad, I am resolv’d
To move forth the common hospital
All the mad-folk, and place them near her lodging;
There let them practise together, sing and dance, 125
And act their gambols to the full o’ th’ moon:
If she can sleep the better for it, let her.
Your work is almost ended.
_Bos._ Must I see her again?
_Ferd._ Yes.
_Bos._ Never.
_Ferd._ You must.
_Bos._ Never in mine own shape;
That’s forfeited by my intelligence[3748] 130
And this last cruel lie: when you send me next,
The business shall be comfort.
_Ferd._ Very likely,
Thy pity is nothing of kin to thee. Antonio
Lurks about Milan: thou shalt shortly thither,
To feed a fire as great as my revenge, 135
Which nev’r will slack till it hath spent his fuel:
Intemperate agues make physicians cruel. _Exeunt._
[SCENE II.][3749]
_Enter_ DUCHESS _and_ CARIOLA.
_Duch._ What hideous noise was that?
_Cari._ ’T is the wild consort[3750]
Of madmen, lady, which your tyrant brother
Hath plac’d about your lodging. This tyranny,
I think, was never practis’d till this hour.
_Duch._ Indeed, I thank him. Nothing but noise and folly 5
Can keep me in my right wits; whereas reason
And silence make me stark mad. Sit down;
Discourse to me some dismal tragedy.
_Cari._ O, ’t will increase your melancholy!
_Duch._ Thou art deceiv’d:
To hear of greater grief would lessen mine. 10
This is a prison?
_Cari._ Yes, but you shall live
To shake this durance off.
_Duch._ Thou art a fool:
The robin-red-breast and the nightingale
Never live long in cages.
_Cari._ Pray, dry your eyes.
What think you of, madam?
_Duch._ Of nothing; 15
When I muse thus, I sleep.
_Cari._ Like a madman, with your eyes open?
_Duch._ Dost thou think we shall know one another
In th’ other world?
_Cari._ Yes, out of question.
_Duch._ O, that it were possible we might 20
But hold some two days’ conference with the dead!
From them I should learn somewhat, I am sure,
I never shall know here. I ’ll tell thee a miracle:
I am not mad yet, to my cause of sorrow:
Th’ heaven o’er my head seems made of molten brass, 25
The earth of flaming sulphur, yet I am not mad.
I am acquainted with sad misery
As the tann’d galley-slave is with his oar;
Necessity makes me suffer constantly,
And custom makes it easy. Who do I look like now? 30
_Cari._ Like to your picture in the gallery,
A deal of life in show, but none in practice;
Or rather like some reverend monument
Whose ruins are even pitied.
_Duch._ Very proper;
And Fortune seems only to have her eye-sight
To behold my tragedy.—How now! 36
What noise is that?
[_Enter_ Servant.]
_Serv._ I am come to tell you
Your brother hath intended you some sport.
A great physician, when the Pope was sick
Of a deep melancholy, presented him 40
With several sorts[3751] of madmen, which wild object
Being full of change and sport, forc’d him to laugh,
And so th’ imposthume[3752] broke: the self-same cure
The duke intends on you.
_Duch._ Let them come in.
_Serv._ There ’s a mad lawyer; and a secular priest; 45
A doctor that hath forfeited his wits
By jealousy; an astrologian
That in his works said such a day o’ th’ month
Should be the day of doom, and, failing of ’t;
Ran mad; an English tailor craz’d i’ th’ brain
With the study of new fashions; a gentleman-usher 51
Quite beside himself with care to keep in mind
The number of his lady’s salutations,
Or ’How do you,’ she employ’d him in each morning;
A farmer, too, an excellent knave in grain,[3753] 55
Mad ’cause he was hind’red transportation:[3754]
And let one broker that ’s mad loose to these,
You ’d think the devil were among them.
_Duch._ Sit, Cariola.—Let them loose when you please,
For I am chain’d to endure all your tyranny. 60
[_Enter_ Madman.]
_Here by a_ Madman _this song is sung to a dismal kind of music_.
O, let us howl some heavy note,
Some deadly dogged howl,
Bounding as from the threat’ning throat
Of beasts and fatal fowl!
As ravens, screech-owls, bulls, and bears, 65
We ’ll bell, and bawl our parts,
Till irksome noise have cloy’d your ears
And corrosiv’d your hearts.
At last, when as our choir wants breath,
Our bodies being blest, 70
We ’ll sing, like swans, to welcome death,
And die in love and rest.
_1 Madman._ Doom’s-day not come yet! I ’ll draw it nearer by a
perspective,[3755] or make a (74) glass that shall set all the
world on fire upon an instant. I cannot sleep; my pillow is stuft
with a litter of porcupines.
_2 Madman._ Hell is a mere glass-house, where the devils are
continually blowing up women’s souls on hollow irons, and the fire
never goes (80) out.
_3 Madman._ I will lie with every woman in my parish the tenth night.
I will tithe them over like hay-cocks. 84
_4 Madman._ Shall my ’pothecary out-go me, because I am a cuckold? I
have found out his roguery: he makes alum of his wife’s urine, and
sells it to Puritans that have sore throats with over-straining.
_1 Madman._ I have skill in heraldry. 90
_2 Madman._ Hast?
_1 Madman._ You do give for your crest a woodcock’s head with the
brains pickt out on ’t; you are a very ancient gentleman. 94
_3 Madman._ Greek is turn’d Turk: we are only to be sav’d by the
Helvetian translation.[3756]
_1 Madman._ Come on, sir, I will lay the law to you.
_2 Madman._ O, rather lay a corrosive: the law will eat
to the bone. 100
_3 Madman._ He that drinks but to satisfy nature is damn’d.
_4 Madman._ If I had my glass here, I would show a sight should make
all the women here call me mad doctor. 105
_1 Madman._ What ’s he? A rope-maker?
_2 Madman._ No, no, no; a snuffling knave that while he shows the
tombs, will have his hand in a wench’s placket.[3757] 109
_3 Madman._ Woe to the caroche[3758] that brought home my wife
from the masque at three o’clock in the morning! It had a large
feather-bed in it.
_4 Madman._ I have pared the devil’s nails forty times, roasted them
in raven’s eggs, (115) and cur’d agues with them.
_3 Madman._ Get me three hundred milch-bats, to make possets[3759] to
procure sleep.
_4 Madman._ All the college may throw their caps at me: I have made a
soap-boiler costive; (120) it was my masterpiece.
_Here the dance, consisting of Eight Madmen, with music answerable
thereunto; after which_, BOSOLA, _like an old man, enters_.
_Duch._ Is he mad too?
_Serv._ Pray, question him. I ’ll leave you.
[_Exeunt_ Servant _and_ Madmen.]
_Bos._ I am come to make thy tomb.
_Duch._ Ha! my tomb!
Thou speak’st as if I lay upon my death-bed,
Gasping for breath. Dost thou perceive me sick? 125
_Bos._ Yes, and the more dangerously, since thy sickness is
insensible.
_Duch._ Thou art not mad, sure: dost know me?
_Bos._ Yes.
_Duch._ Who am I?
_Bos._ Thou art a box of worm-seed, at best but a salvatory[3760]
of green mummy.[3761] What ’s this flesh? A little crudded[3762]
milk, fantastical (131) puff-paste. Our bodies are weaker than those
paper-prisons boys use to keep flies in; more contemptible, since
ours is to preserve earth-worms. Didst thou ever see a lark in 135
a cage? Such is the soul in the body: this world is like her little
turf of grass, and the heaven o’er our heads, like her looking-glass,
only gives us a miserable knowledge of the small compass of our
prison. 140
_Duch._ Am I not thy duchess?
_Bos._ Thou art some great woman, sure, for riot begins to sit on thy
forehead (clad in gray hairs) twenty years sooner than on a merry
milk-maid’s. Thou sleep’st worse than if a (145) mouse should be
forc’d to take up her lodging in a cat’s ear: a little infant that
breeds its teeth, should it lie with thee, would cry out, as if thou
wert the more unquiet bedfellow.
_Duch._ I am Duchess of Malfi still. 150
_Bos._ That makes thy sleep so broken:
Glories, like glow-worms, afar off shine bright,
But, look’d to near, have neither heat nor light.
_Duch._ Thou art very plain.
_Bos._ My trade is to flatter the dead, not (155) the living; I am a
tomb-maker.
_Duch._ And thou com’st to make my tomb?
_Bos._ Yes.
_Duch._ Let me be a little merry:—of what stuff wilt thou make it? 160
_Bos._ Nay, resolve me first, of what fashion?
_Duch._ Why, do we grow fantastical on our deathbed?
Do we affect fashion in the grave?
_Bos._ Most ambitiously. Princes’ images on their tombs do not lie,
as they were wont, (165) seeming to pray up to heaven; but with their
hands under their cheeks, as if they died of the tooth-ache. They are
not carved with their eyes fix’d upon the stars, but as their minds
were wholly bent upon the world, the self-same (170) way they seem to
turn their faces.[3763]
_Duch._ Let me know fully therefore the effect
Of this thy dismal preparation,
This talk fit for a charnel.
_Bos._ Now I shall:—
[_Enter_ Executioners, _with_] _a coffin, cords, and a bell_.
Here is a present from your princely brothers;
And may it arrive welcome, for it brings 176
Last benefit, last sorrow.
_Duch._ Let me see it:
I have so much obedience in my blood,
I wish it in their veins to do them good.
_Bos._ This is your last presence-chamber. 180
_Cari._ O my sweet lady!
_Duch._ Peace; it affrights not me.
_Bos._ I am the common bellman
That usually is sent to condemn’d persons
The night before they suffer.
_Duch._ Even now thou said’st
Thou wast a tomb-maker.
_Bos._ ’T was to bring you 185
By degrees to mortification. Listen.
Hark, now everything is still,
The screech-owl and the whistler shrill
Call upon our dame aloud,
And bid her quickly don her shroud! 190
Much you had of land and rent;
Your length in clay ’s now competent:
A long war disturb’d your mind;
Here your perfect peace is sign’d.
Of what is ’t fools make such vain keeping? 195
Sin their conception, their birth weeping,
Their life a general mist of error,
Their death a hideous storm of terror.
Strew your hair with powders sweet,
Don clean linen, bathe your feet, 200
And (the foul fiend more to check)
A crucifix let bless your neck.
’T is now full tide ’tween night and day,
End your groan, and come away.
_Cari._ Hence, villains, tyrants, murderers! Alas! 205
What will you do with my lady?—Call for help!
_Duch._ To whom? To our next neighbours? They are mad-folks.
_Bos._ Remove that noise.
_Duch._ Farewell, Cariola.
In my last will I have not much to give:
A many hungry guests have fed upon me; 210
Thine will be a poor reversion.
_Cari._ I will die with her.
_Duch._ I pray thee, look thou giv’st my little boy
Some syrup for his cold, and let the girl
Say her prayers ere she sleep.
[CARIOLA _is forced out by the_ Executioners.]
Now what you please:
What death?
_Bos._ Strangling; here are your executioners.
_Duch._ I forgive them: 216
The apoplexy, catarrh, or cough o’ th’ lungs,
Would do as much as they do.
_Bos._ Doth not death fright you?
_Duch._ Who would be afraid on ’t,
Knowing to meet such excellent company 220
In th’ other world?
_Bos._ Yet, methinks,
The manner of your death should much afflict you:
This cord should terrify you.
_Duch._ Not a whit:
What would it pleasure me to have my throat cut 225
With diamonds? or to be smothered
With cassia? or to be shot to death with pearls?
I know death hath ten thousand several doors
For men to take their exits; and ’t is found
They go on such strange geometrical hinges, 230
You may open them both ways: any way, for heaven-sake,
So I were out of your whispering. Tell my brothers
That I perceive death, now I am well awake,
Best gift is they can give or I can take.
I would fain put off my last woman’s-fault, 235
I ’d not be tedious to you.
_1 Execut._ We are ready.
_Duch._ Dispose my breath how please you; but my body
Bestow upon my women, will you?
_1 Execut._ Yes.
_Duch._ Pull, and pull strongly, for your able strength
Must pull down heaven upon me:— 240
Yet stay; heaven-gates are not so highly arch’d
As princes’ palaces; they that enter there
Must go upon their knees [_kneels_].—Come, violent death,
Serve for mandragora to make me sleep!—
Go tell my brothers, when I am laid out, 245
They then may feed in quiet. _They strangle her._
_Bos._ Where’s the waiting-woman?
Fetch her: some other strangle the children.
[_Enter_ CARIOLA.]
Look you, there sleeps your mistress.
_Cari._ O, you are damn’d
Perpetually for this! My turn is next; 250
Is ’t not so ordered?
_Bos._ Yes, and I am glad
You are so well prepar’d for ’t.
_Cari._ You are deceiv’d, sir,
I am not prepar’d for ’t, I will not die;
I will first come to my answer,[3764] and know
How I have offended.
_Bos._ Come, despatch her.— 255
You kept her counsel; now you shall keep ours.
_Cari._ I will not die, I must not; I am contracted
To a young gentleman.
_1 Execut._ Here’s your wedding-ring.
_Cari._ Let me but speak with the duke. I ’ll discover
Treason to his person.
_Bos._ Delays:—throttle her. 260
_1 Execut._ She bites and scratches.
_Cari._ If you kill me now,
I am damn’d; I have not been at confession
This two years.
_Bos._ [_To_ Executioners.] When![3765]
_Cari._ I am quick with child.