Scene III[92][Enter] CARDINAL, FERDINAND, MALATESTI, PESCARA, DELIO,and SILVIOCARDINAL. Must we turn soldier, then?MALATESTI. The emperor,Hearing your worth that way, ere you attain'dThis reverend garment, joins you in commissionWith the right fortunate soldier the Marquis of Pescara,And the famous Lannoy.CARDINAL. He that had the honourOf taking the French king prisoner?MALATESTI. The same.Here 's a plot drawn for a new fortificationAt Naples.FERDINAND. This great Count Malatesti, I perceive,Hath got employment?DELIO. No employment, my lord;A marginal note in the muster-book, that he isA voluntary lord.FERDINAND. He 's no soldier.DELIO. He has worn gun-powder in 's hollow tooth for the tooth-ache.SILVIO. He comes to the leaguer with a full intentTo eat fresh beef and garlic, means to stayTill the scent be gone, and straight return to court.DELIO. He hath read all the late serviceAs the City-Chronicle relates it;And keeps two pewterers going, only to expressBattles in model.SILVIO. Then he 'll fight by the book.DELIO. By the almanac, I think,To choose good days and shun the critical;That 's his mistress' scarf.SILVIO. Yes, he protestsHe would do much for that taffeta.DELIO. I think he would run away from a battle,To save it from taking prisoner.SILVIO. He is horribly afraidGun-powder will spoil the perfume on 't.DELIO. I saw a Dutchman break his pate onceFor calling him pot-gun; he made his headHave a bore in 't like a musket.SILVIO. I would he had made a touch-hole to 't.He is indeed a guarded sumpter-cloth,[93]Only for the remove of the court.[Enter BOSOLA]PESCARA. Bosola arriv'd! What should be the business?Some falling-out amongst the cardinals.These factions amongst great men, they are likeFoxes, when their heads are divided,They carry fire in their tails, and all the countryAbout them goes to wrack for 't.SILVIO. What 's that Bosola?DELIO. I knew him in Padua,—a fantastical scholar, like such whostudy to know how many knots was in Hercules' club, of what colourAchilles' beard was, or whether Hector were not troubled with thetooth-ache. He hath studied himself half blear-eyed to know the truesymmetry of Caesar's nose by a shoeing-horn; and this he did to gainthe name of a speculative man.PESCARA. Mark Prince Ferdinand:A very salamander lives in 's eye,To mock the eager violence of fire.SILVIO. That cardinal hath made more bad faces with his oppressionthan ever Michael Angelo made good ones. He lifts up 's nose, likea foul porpoise before a storm.PESCARA. The Lord Ferdinand laughs.DELIO. Like a deadly cannonThat lightens ere it smokes.PESCARA. 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.CARDINAL. Doth she make religion her riding-hoodTo keep her from the sun and tempest?FERDINAND. That, that damns her. Methinks her fault and beauty,Blended together, show like leprosy,The whiter, the fouler. I make it a questionWhether her beggarly brats were ever christ'ned.CARDINAL. I will instantly solicit the state of AnconaTo have them banish'd.FERDINAND. You are for Loretto:I shall not be at your ceremony; fare you well.—Write to the Duke of Malfi, my young nephewShe had by her first husband, and acquaint himWith 's mother's honesty.BOSOLA. I will.FERDINAND. Antonio!A slave that only smell'd of ink and counters,And never 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,And meet me at the foot-bridge.Exeunt.
Scene IV[Enter] Two Pilgrims to the Shrine of our Lady of LorettoFIRST PILGRIM. I have not seen a goodlier shrine than this;Yet I have visited many.SECOND PILGRIM. The Cardinal of ArragonIs this day to resign his cardinal's hat:His sister duchess likewise is arriv'dTo pay her vow of pilgrimage. I expectA noble ceremony.FIRST PILGRIM. No question.—They come.[Here the ceremony of the Cardinal's instalment, in the habitof a soldier, perform'd 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 formof banishment in dumb-show expressed towards them by theCARDINAL and the state of Ancona, banished: during all whichceremony, this ditty is sung, to very solemn music, by diverschurchmen: and then exeunt [all except the] Two Pilgrims.Arms and honours deck thy story,To thy fame's eternal glory!Adverse fortune ever fly thee;No disastrous fate come nigh thee!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;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!Victory attend thee nigh, whilst fame sings loud thy powers;Triumphant conquest crown thy head, and blessings pour downshowers![94]FIRST PILGRIM.Here 's a strange turn of state! who would have thoughtSo great a lady would have match'd herselfUnto so mean a person? Yet the cardinalBears himself much too cruel.SECOND PILGRIM. They are banish'd.FIRST PILGRIM. But I would ask what power hath this stateOf Ancona to determine of a free prince?SECOND PILGRIM. They are a free state, sir, and her brother show'dHow that the Pope, fore-hearing of her looseness,Hath seiz'd into th' protection of the churchThe dukedom which she held as dowager.FIRST PILGRIM. But by what justice?SECOND PILGRIM. Sure, I think by none,Only her brother's instigation.FIRST PILGRIM. What was it with such violence he tookOff from her finger?SECOND PILGRIM. 'Twas her wedding-ring;Which he vow'd shortly he would sacrificeTo his revenge.FIRST PILGRIM. Alas, Antonio!If that a man be thrust into a well,No matter who sets hand to 't, his own weightWill 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[95][Enter] DUCHESS, ANTONIO, Children, CARIOLA, and ServantsDUCHESS. Banish'd Ancona!ANTONIO. Yes, you see what powerLightens in great men's breath.DUCHESS. Is all our trainShrunk to this poor remainder?ANTONIO. These poor menWhich have got little in your service, vowTo take your fortune: but your wiser buntings,[96]Now they are fledg'd, are gone.DUCHESS. They have done wisely.This puts me in mind of death: physicians thus,With their hands full of money, use to give o'erTheir patients.ANTONIO. Right the fashion of the world:]From decay'd fortunes every flatterer shrinks;Men cease to build where the foundation sinks.DUCHESS. I had a very strange dream to-night.ANTONIO. What was 't?DUCHESS. Methought I wore my coronet of state,And on a sudden all the diamondsWere chang'd to pearls.ANTONIO. My interpretationIs, you 'll weep shortly; for to me the pearlsDo signify your tears.DUCHESS. The birds that live i' th' fieldOn the wild benefit of nature liveHappier than we; for they may choose their mates,And carol their sweet pleasures to the spring.[Enter BOSOLA with a letter]BOSOLA. You are happily o'erta'en.DUCHESS. From my brother?BOSOLA. Yes, from the Lord Ferdinand your brotherAll love and safety.DUCHESS. Thou dost blanch mischief,Would'st make it white. See, see, like to calm weatherAt sea before a tempest, false hearts speak fairTo 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.And here 's another pitfall that 's strew'd o'erWith roses; mark it, 'tis 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 hismoney':—And I believe so too.BOSOLA. What do you believe?DUCHESS. That he so much distrusts my husband's love,He will by no means believe his heart is with himUntil he see it: the devil is not cunning enoughTo circumvent us In riddles.BOSOLA. Will you reject that noble and free leagueOf amity and love which I present you?DUCHESS. Their league is like that of some politic kings,Only to make themselves of strength and powerTo be our after-ruin; tell them so.BOSOLA. And what from you?ANTONIO. Thus tell him; I will not come.BOSOLA. And what of this?ANTONIO. My brothers have dispers'dBloodhounds 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.I 'll not come at them.BOSOLA. 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.DUCHESS. I suspect some ambush;Therefore by all my love I do conjure youTo take your eldest son, and fly towards Milan.Let us not venture all this poor remainderIn one unlucky bottom.ANTONIO. You counsel safely.Best of my life, farewell. Since we must part,Heaven hath a hand in 't; but no otherwiseThan as some curious artist takes in sunderA clock or watch, when it is out of frame,To bring 't in better order.DUCHESS. I know not which is best,To see you dead, or part with you.—Farewell, boy:Thou art happy that thou hast not understandingTo know thy misery; for all our witAnd reading brings us to a truer senseOf sorrow.—In the eternal church, sir,I do hope we shall not part thus.ANTONIO. O, be of comfort!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.DUCHESS. Must I, like to slave-born Russian,Account it praise to suffer tyranny?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'erGo right but heaven's scourge-stick.ANTONIO. Do not weep:Heaven fashion'd us of nothing; and we striveTo bring ourselves to nothing.—Farewell, Cariola,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.DUCHESS. Let me look upon you once more, for that speechCame from a dying father. Your kiss is colderThan that I have seen an holy anchoriteGive to a dead man's skull.ANTONIO. 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.]DUCHESS. My laurel is all withered.CARIOLA. Look, madam, what a troop of armed menMake toward us!Re-enter BOSOLA [visarded,] with a GuardDUCHESS. 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 ruinBe sudden.—I am your adventure, am I not?BOSOLA. You are: you must see your husband no more.DUCHESS. What devil art thou that counterfeit'st heaven's thunder?BOSOLA. Is that terrible? I would have you tell me whetherIs that note worse that frights the silly birdsOut of the corn, or that which doth allure themTo the nets? You have heark'ned to the last too much.DUCHESS. O misery! like to a rusty o'ercharg'd cannon,Shall I never fly in pieces?—Come, to what prison?BOSOLA. To none.DUCHESS. Whither, then?BOSOLA. To your palace.DUCHESS. I have heardThat Charon's boat serves to convey all o'erThe dismal lake, but brings none back again.BOSOLA. Your brothers mean you safety and pity.DUCHESS. Pity!With such a pity men preserve alivePheasants and quails, when they are not fat enoughTo be eaten.BOSOLA. These are your children?DUCHESS. Yes.BOSOLA. Can they prattle?DUCHESS. No:But I intend, since they were born accurs'd,Curses shall be their first language.BOSOLA. Fie, madam!Forget this base, low fellow——DUCHESS. Were I a man,I 'd beat that counterfeit face[97]into thy other.BOSOLA. One of no birth.DUCHESS. Say that he was born mean,Man is most happy when 's own actionsBe arguments and examples of his virtue.BOSOLA. A barren, beggarly virtue.DUCHESS. 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 herWith this rough language; 'Why art thou so boldTo mix thyself with our high state of floods,Being no eminent courtier, but oneThat for the calmest and fresh time o' th' yearDost live in shallow rivers, rank'st thyselfWith silly smelts and shrimps? And darest thouPass 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: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;Bent to all sways of the oppressor's will:There 's no deep valley but near some great hill.Exeunt.
Act IV
Scene I[98][Enter] FERDINAND and BOSOLAFERDINAND. How doth our sister duchess bear herselfIn her imprisonment?BOSOLA. Nobly: I 'll describe her.She 's sad as one long us'd to 't, and she seemsRather to welcome the end of miseryThan shun it; a behaviour so nobleAs gives a majesty to adversity:You may discern the shape of lovelinessMore perfect in her tears than in her smiles:She will muse for hours together; and her silence,Methinks, expresseth more than if she spake.FERDINAND. Her melancholy seems to be fortifiedWith a strange disdain.BOSOLA. 'Tis so; and this restraint,Like English mastives that grow fierce with tying,Makes her too passionately apprehendThose pleasures she is kept from.FERDINAND. Curse upon her!I will no longer study in the bookOf another's heart. Inform her what I told you.Exit.[Enter DUCHESS and Attendants]BOSOLA. All comfort to your grace!DUCHESS. I will have none.Pray thee, why dost thou wrap thy poison'd pillsIn gold and sugar?BOSOLA. Your elder brother, the Lord Ferdinand,Is come to visit you, and sends you word,'Cause once he rashly made a solemn vowNever to see you more, he comes i' th' night;And prays you gently neither torch nor taperShine in your chamber. He will kiss your hand,And reconcile himself; but for his vowHe dares not see you.DUCHESS. At his pleasure.—Take hence the lights.—He 's come.[Exeunt Attendants with lights.][Enter FERDINAND]FERDINAND. Where are you?DUCHESS. Here, sir.FERDINAND. This darkness suits you well.DUCHESS. I would ask you pardon.FERDINAND. You have it;For I account it the honorabl'st revenge,Where I may kill, to pardon.—Where are your cubs?DUCHESS. Whom?FERDINAND. Call them your children;For though our national law distinguish bastards]From true legitimate issue, compassionate natureMakes them all equal.DUCHESS. Do you visit me for this?You violate a sacrament o' th' churchShall make you howl in hell for 't.FERDINAND. It had been well,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 handGives her a dead man's hand.To which you have vow'd much love; the ring upon 'tYou gave.DUCHESS. I affectionately kiss it.FERDINAND. Pray, do, and bury the print of it in your heart.I will leave this ring with you for a love-token;And the hand as sure as the ring; and do not doubtBut you shall have the heart too. When you need a friend,Send it to him that ow'd it; you shall seeWhether he can aid you.DUCHESS. You are very cold:I fear you are not well after your travel.—Ha! lights!——O, horrible!FERDINAND. Let her have lights enough.Exit.DUCHESS. What witchcraft doth he practise, that he hath leftA dead man's hand here?[Here is discovered, behind a traverse,[99]the artificialfigures of ANTONIO and his children, appearing as ifthey were dead.BOSOLA. Look you, here 's the piece from which 'twas ta'en.He doth present you this sad spectacle,That, now you know directly they are dead,Hereafter you may wisely cease to grieveFor that which cannot be recovered.DUCHESS. There is not between heaven and earth one wishI stay for after this. It wastes me moreThan were 't my picture, fashion'd out of wax,Stuck with a magical needle, and then buriedIn some foul dunghill; and yon 's an excellent propertyFor a tyrant, which I would account mercy.BOSOLA. What 's that?DUCHESS. If they would bind me to that lifeless trunk,And let me freeze to death.BOSOLA. Come, you must live.DUCHESS. That 's the greatest torture souls feel in hell,In hell, that they must live, and cannot die.Portia,[100]I 'll new kindle thy coals again,And revive the rare and almost dead exampleOf a loving wife.BOSOLA. O, fie! despair? RememberYou are a Christian.DUCHESS. The church enjoins fasting:I 'll starve myself to death.BOSOLA. Leave this vain sorrow.Things being at the worst begin to mend: the beeWhen he hath shot his sting into your hand,May then play with your eye-lid.DUCHESS. Good comfortable fellow,Persuade a wretch that 's broke upon the wheelTo have all his bones new set; entreat him liveTo be executed again. Who must despatch me?I account this world a tedious theatre,For I do play a part in 't 'gainst my will.BOSOLA. Come, be of comfort; I will save your life.DUCHESS. Indeed, I have not leisure to tend so small a business.BOSOLA. Now, by my life, I pity you.DUCHESS. Thou art a fool, then,To waste thy pity on a thing so wretchedAs cannot pity itself. I am full of daggers.Puff, let me blow these vipers from me.[Enter Servant]What are you?SERVANT. One that wishes you long life.DUCHESS. I would thou wert hang'd for the horrible curseThou hast given me: I shall shortly grow oneOf the miracles of pity. I 'll go pray;—[Exit Servant.]No, I 'll go curse.BOSOLA. O, fie!DUCHESS. I could curse the stars.BOSOLA. O, fearful!DUCHESS. And those three smiling seasons of the yearInto a Russian winter; nay, the worldTo its first chaos.BOSOLA. Look you, the stars shine still[.]DUCHESS. O, but you mustRemember, my curse hath a great way to go.—Plagues, that make lanes through largest families,Consume them!—BOSOLA. Fie, lady!DUCHESS. Let them, like tyrants,Never be remembered but for the ill they have done;Let all the zealous prayers of mortifiedChurchmen forget them!—BOSOLA. O, uncharitable!DUCHESS. Let heaven a little while cease crowning martyrs,To punish them!—Go, howl them this, and say, I long to bleed:It is some mercy when men kill with speed.Exit.[Re-enter FERDINAND]FERDINAND. Excellent, as I would wish; she 's plagu'd in art.[101]These presentations are but fram'd in waxBy the curious master in that quality,[102]Vincentio Lauriola, and she takes themFor true substantial bodies.BOSOLA. Why do you do this?FERDINAND. To bring her to despair.BOSOLA. Faith, end here,And go no farther in your cruelty:Send her a penitential garment to put onNext to her delicate skin, and furnish herWith beads and prayer-books.FERDINAND. Damn her! that body of hers.While that my blood run pure in 't, was more worthThan that which thou wouldst comfort, call'd a soul.I will send her masques of common courtezans,Have her meat serv'd up by bawds and ruffians,And, 'cause she 'll needs be mad, I am resolv'dTo move forth the common hospitalAll the mad-folk, and place them near her lodging;There let them practise together, sing and dance,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.BOSOLA. Must I see her again?FERDINAND. Yes.BOSOLA. Never.FERDINAND. You must.BOSOLA. Never in mine own shape;That 's forfeited by my intelligence[103]And this last cruel lie: when you send me next,The business shall be comfort.FERDINAND. Very likely;Thy pity is nothing of kin to thee, AntonioLurks about Milan: thou shalt shortly thither,To feed a fire as great as my revenge,Which nev'r will slack till it hath spent his fuel:Intemperate agues make physicians cruel.Exeunt.Scene II[104][Enter] DUCHESS and CARIOLADUCHESS. What hideous noise was that?CARIOLA. 'Tis the wild consort[105]Of madmen, lady, which your tyrant brotherHath plac'd about your lodging. This tyranny,I think, was never practis'd till this hour.DUCHESS. Indeed, I thank him. Nothing but noise and follyCan keep me in my right wits; whereas reasonAnd silence make me stark mad. Sit down;Discourse to me some dismal tragedy.CARIOLA. O, 'twill increase your melancholy!DUCHESS. Thou art deceiv'd:To hear of greater grief would lessen mine.This is a prison?CARIOLA. Yes, but you shall liveTo shake this durance off.DUCHESS. Thou art a fool:The robin-red-breast and the nightingaleNever live long in cages.CARIOLA. Pray, dry your eyes.What think you of, madam?DUCHESS. Of nothing;When I muse thus, I sleep.CARIOLA. Like a madman, with your eyes open?DUCHESS. Dost thou think we shall know one anotherIn th' other world?CARIOLA. Yes, out of question.DUCHESS. O, that it were possible we mightBut 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,The earth of flaming sulphur, yet I am not mad.I am acquainted with sad miseryAs 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?CARIOLA. Like to your picture in the gallery,A deal of life in show, but none in practice;Or rather like some reverend monumentWhose ruins are even pitied.DUCHESS. Very proper;And Fortune seems only to have her eye-sightTo behold my tragedy.—How now!What noise is that?[Enter Servant]SERVANT. I am come to tell youYour brother hath intended you some sport.A great physician, when the Pope was sickOf a deep melancholy, presented himWith several sorts[106]of madmen, which wild objectBeing full of change and sport, forc'd him to laugh,And so the imposthume[107]broke: the self-same cureThe duke intends on you.DUCHESS. Let them come in.SERVANT. There 's a mad lawyer; and a secular priest;A doctor that hath forfeited his witsBy jealousy; an astrologianThat in his works said such a day o' the monthShould be the day of doom, and, failing of 't,Ran mad; an English tailor craz'd i' the brainWith the study of new fashions; a gentleman-usherQuite beside himself with care to keep in mindThe number of his lady's salutationsOr 'How do you,' she employ'd him in each morning;A farmer, too, an excellent knave in grain,[108]Mad 'cause he was hind'red transportation:[109]And let one broker that 's mad loose to these,You'd think the devil were among them.DUCHESS. Sit, Cariola.—Let them loose when you please,For I am chain'd to endure all your tyranny.[Enter Madman]Here by a Madman this song is sung to a dismal kind of musicO, let us howl some heavy note,Some deadly dogged howl,Sounding as from the threatening throatOf beasts and fatal fowl!As ravens, screech-owls, bulls, and bears,We 'll bell, and bawl our parts,Till irksome noise have cloy'd your earsAnd corrosiv'd your hearts.At last, whenas our choir wants breath,Our bodies being blest,We 'll sing, like swans, to welcome death,And die in love and rest.FIRST MADMAN. Doom's-day not come yet! I 'll draw it nearer bya perspective,[110]or make a glass that shall set all the worldon fire upon an instant. I cannot sleep; my pillow is stuffedwith a litter of porcupines.SECOND MADMAN. Hell is a mere glass-house, where the devilsare continually blowing up women's souls on hollow irons,and the fire never goes out.FIRST MADMAN. I have skill in heraldry.SECOND MADMAN. Hast?FIRST MADMAN. You do give for your crest a woodcock's headwith the brains picked out on 't; you are a very ancient gentleman.THIRD MADMAN. Greek is turned Turk: we are only to be saved bythe Helvetian translation.[111]FIRST MADMAN. Come on, sir, I will lay the law to you.SECOND MADMAN. O, rather lay a corrosive: the law will eatto the bone.THIRD MADMAN. He that drinks but to satisfy nature is damn'd.FOURTH MADMAN. If I had my glass here, I would show a sight shouldmake all the women here call me mad doctor.FIRST MADMAN. What 's he? a rope-maker?SECOND MADMAN. No, no, no, a snuffling knave that, while he showsthe tombs, will have his hand in a wench's placket.[112]THIRD MADMAN. Woe to the caroche[113]that brought home my wifefrom the masque at three o'clock in the morning! It had a largefeather-bed in it.FOURTH MADMAN. I have pared the devil's nails forty times, roastedthem in raven's eggs, and cured agues with them.THIRD MADMAN. Get me three hundred milch-bats, to make possets[114]to procure sleep.FOURTH MADMAN. All the college may throw their caps at me:I have made a soap-boiler costive; it was my masterpiece.Here the dance, consisting of Eight Madmen, with musicanswerable thereunto; after which, BOSOLA, like an old man,enters.DUCHESS. Is he mad too?SERVANT. Pray, question him. I 'll leave you.[Exeunt Servant and Madmen.]BOSOLA. I am come to make thy tomb.DUCHESS. Ha! my tomb!Thou speak'st as if I lay upon my death-bed,Gasping for breath. Dost thou perceive me sick?BOSOLA.Yes, and the more dangerously, since thy sickness is insensible.DUCHESS. Thou art not mad, sure: dost know me?BOSOLA. Yes.DUCHESS. Who am I?BOSOLA. Thou art a box of worm-seed, at best but a salvatory[115]of green mummy.[116]What 's this flesh? a little crudded[117]milk,fantastical puff-paste. Our bodies are weaker than those paper-prisons boys use to keep flies in; more contemptible, since oursis to preserve earth-worms. Didst thou ever see a lark in a cage?Such is the soul in the body: this world is like her little turfof grass, and the heaven o'er our heads like her looking-glass, onlygives us a miserable knowledge of the small compass of our prison.DUCHESS. Am not I thy duchess?BOSOLA. Thou art some great woman, sure, for riot begins to siton thy forehead (clad in gray hairs) twenty years sooner than ona merry milk-maid's. Thou sleepest worse than if a mouse should beforced to take up her lodging in a cat's ear: a little infant thatbreeds its teeth, should it lie with thee, would cry out, as if thouwert the more unquiet bedfellow.DUCHESS. I am Duchess of Malfi still.BOSOLA. That makes thy sleep so broken:Glories, like glow-worms, afar off shine bright,But, look'd to near, have neither heat nor light.DUCHESS. Thou art very plain.BOSOLA. My trade is to flatter the dead, not the living;I am a tomb-maker.DUCHESS. And thou comest to make my tomb?BOSOLA. Yes.DUCHESS. Let me be a little merry:—of what stuff wilt thou make it?BOSOLA. Nay, resolve me first, of what fashion?DUCHESS. Why, do we grow fantastical on our deathbed?Do we affect fashion in the grave?BOSOLA. Most ambitiously. Princes' images on their tombs do notlie, as they were wont, seeming to pray up to heaven; but with theirhands under their cheeks, as if they died of the tooth-ache. Theyare not carved with their eyes fix'd upon the stars, but as theirminds were wholly bent upon the world, the selfsame way they seemto turn their faces.DUCHESS. Let me know fully therefore the effectOf this thy dismal preparation,This talk fit for a charnel.BOSOLA. Now I shall:—[Enter Executioners, with] a coffin, cords, and a bellHere is a present from your princely brothers;And may it arrive welcome, for it bringsLast benefit, last sorrow.DUCHESS. Let me see it:I have so much obedience in my blood,I wish it in their veins to do them good.BOSOLA. This is your last presence-chamber.CARIOLA. O my sweet lady!DUCHESS. Peace; it affrights not me.BOSOLA. I am the common bellmanThat usually is sent to condemn'd personsThe night before they suffer.DUCHESS. Even now thou said'stThou wast a tomb-maker.BOSOLA. 'Twas to bring youBy degrees to mortification. Listen.Hark, now everything is still,The screech-owl and the whistler shrillCall upon our dame aloud,And bid her quickly don her shroud!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?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,And (the foul fiend more to check)A crucifix let bless your neck.'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day;End your groan, and come away.CARIOLA. Hence, villains, tyrants, murderers! Alas!What will you do with my lady?—Call for help!DUCHESS. To whom? To our next neighbours? They are mad-folks.BOSOLA. Remove that noise.DUCHESS. Farewell, Cariola.In my last will I have not much to give:A many hungry guests have fed upon me;Thine will be a poor reversion.CARIOLA. I will die with her.DUCHESS. I pray thee, look thou giv'st my little boySome syrup for his cold, and let the girlSay her prayers ere she sleep.[Cariola is forced out by the Executioners.]Now what you please:What death?BOSOLA. Strangling; here are your executioners.DUCHESS. I forgive them:The apoplexy, catarrh, or cough o' th' lungs,Would do as much as they do.BOSOLA. Doth not death fright you?DUCHESS. Who would be afraid on 't,Knowing to meet such excellent companyIn th' other world?BOSOLA. Yet, methinks,The manner of your death should much afflict you:This cord should terrify you.DUCHESS. Not a whit:What would it pleasure me to have my throat cutWith diamonds? or to be smotheredWith cassia? or to be shot to death with pearls?I know death hath ten thousand several doorsFor men to take their exits; and 'tis foundThey go on such strange geometrical hinges,You may open them both ways: any way, for heaven-sake,So I were out of your whispering. Tell my brothersThat 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,I 'd not be tedious to you.FIRST EXECUTIONER. We are ready.DUCHESS. Dispose my breath how please you; but my bodyBestow upon my women, will you?FIRST EXECUTIONER. Yes.DUCHESS. Pull, and pull strongly, for your able strengthMust pull down heaven upon me:—Yet stay; heaven-gates are not so highly arch'dAs princes' palaces; they that enter thereMust go upon their knees [Kneels].—Come, violent death,Serve for mandragora to make me sleep!—Go tell my brothers, when I am laid out,They then may feed in quiet.They strangle her.BOSOLA. Where 's the waiting-woman??Fetch her: some other strangle the children.[Enter CARIOLA]Look you, there sleeps your mistress.CARIOLA. O, you are damn'dPerpetually for this! My turn is next;Is 't not so ordered?BOSOLA. Yes, and I am gladYou are so well prepar'd for 't.CARIOLA. You are deceiv'd, sir,I am not prepar'd for 't, I will not die;I will first come to my answer,[118]and knowHow I have offended.BOSOLA. Come, despatch her.—You kept her counsel; now you shall keep ours.CARIOLA. I will not die, I must not; I am contractedTo a young gentleman.FIRST EXECUTIONER. Here 's your wedding-ring.CARIOLA. Let me but speak with the duke. I 'll discoverTreason to his person.BOSOLA. Delays:—throttle her.FIRST EXECUTIONER. She bites and scratches.CARIOLA. If you kill me now,I am damn'd; I have not been at confessionThis two years.BOSOLA. [To Executioners.] When?[119]CARIOLA. I am quick with child.BOSOLA. Why, then,Your credit 's saved.[Executioners strangle Cariola.]Bear her into the next room;Let these lie still.[Exeunt the Executioners with the body of CARIOLA.][Enter FERDINAND]FERDINAND. Is she dead?BOSOLA. She is whatYou 'd have her. But here begin your pity:Shows the Children strangled.Alas, how have these offended?FERDINAND. The deathOf young wolves is never to be pitied.BOSOLA. Fix your eye here.FERDINAND. Constantly.BOSOLA. Do you not weep?Other sins only speak; murder shrieks out.The element of water moistens the earth,But blood flies upwards and bedews the heavens.FERDINAND. Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle: she died young.BOSOLA. I think not so; her infelicitySeem'd to have years too many.FERDINAND. She and I were twins;And should I die this instant, I had liv'dHer time to a minute.BOSOLA. It seems she was born first:You have bloodily approv'd the ancient truth,That kindred commonly do worse agreeThan remote strangers.FERDINAND. Let me see her faceAgain. Why didst thou not pity her? WhatAn excellent honest man mightst thou have been,If thou hadst borne her to some sanctuary!Or, bold in a good cause, oppos'd thyself,With thy advanced sword above thy head,Between her innocence and my revenge!I bade thee, when I was distracted of my wits,Go kill my dearest friend, and thou hast done 't.For let me but examine well the cause:What was the meanness of her match to me?Only I must confess I had a hope,Had she continu'd widow, to have gain'dAn infinite mass of treasure by her death:And that was the main cause,—her marriage,That drew a stream of gall quite through my heart.For thee, as we observe in tragediesThat a good actor many times is curs'dFor playing a villain's part, I hate thee for 't,And, for my sake, say, thou hast done much ill well.BOSOLA. Let me quicken your memory, for I perceiveYou are falling into ingratitude: I challengeThe reward due to my service.FERDINAND. I 'll tell theeWhat I 'll give thee.BOSOLA. Do.FERDINAND. I 'll give thee a pardonFor this murder.BOSOLA. Ha!FERDINAND. Yes, and 'tisThe largest bounty I can study to do thee.By what authority didst thou executeThis bloody sentence?BOSOLA. By yours.FERDINAND. Mine! was I her judge?Did any ceremonial form of lawDoom her to not-being? Did a complete juryDeliver her conviction up i' the court?Where shalt thou find this judgment register'd,Unless in hell? See, like a bloody fool,Thou 'st forfeited thy life, and thou shalt die for 't.BOSOLA. The office of justice is perverted quiteWhen one thief hangs another. Who shall dareTo reveal this?FERDINAND. O, I 'll tell thee;The wolf shall find her grave, and scrape it up,Not to devour the corpse, but to discoverThe horrid murder.BOSOLA. You, not I, shall quake for 't.FERDINAND. Leave me.BOSOLA. I will first receive my pension.FERDINAND. You are a villain.BOSOLA. When your ingratitudeIs judge, I am so.FERDINAND. O horror,That not the fear of him which binds the devilsCan prescribe man obedience!—Never look upon me more.BOSOLA. Why, fare thee well.Your brother and yourself are worthy men!You have a pair of hearts are hollow graves,Rotten, and rotting others; and your vengeance,Like two chain'd-bullets, still goes arm in arm:You may be brothers; for treason, like the plague,Doth take much in a blood. I stand like oneThat long hath ta'en a sweet and golden dream:I am angry with myself, now that I wake.FERDINAND. Get thee into some unknown part o' the world,That I may never see thee.BOSOLA. Let me knowWherefore I should be thus neglected. Sir,I serv'd your tyranny, and rather stroveTo satisfy yourself than all the world:And though I loath'd the evil, yet I lov'dYou that did counsel it; and rather soughtTo appear a true servant than an honest man.FERDINAND. I 'll go hunt the badger by owl-light:'Tis a deed of darkness.Exit.BOSOLA. He 's much distracted. Off, my painted honour!While with vain hopes our faculties we tire,We seem to sweat in ice and freeze in fire.What would I do, were this to do again?I would not change my peace of conscienceFor all the wealth of Europe.—She stirs; here 's life:—Return, fair soul, from darkness, and lead mineOut of this sensible hell:—she 's warm, she breathes:—Upon thy pale lips I will melt my heart,To store them with fresh colour.—Who 's there?Some cordial drink!—Alas! I dare not call:So pity would destroy pity.—Her eye opes,And heaven in it seems to ope, that late was shut,To take me up to mercy.DUCHESS. Antonio!BOSOLA. Yes, madam, he is living;The dead bodies you saw were but feign'd statues.He 's reconcil'd to your brothers; the Pope hath wroughtThe atonement.DUCHESS. Mercy!Dies.BOSOLA. O, she 's gone again! there the cords of life broke.O sacred innocence, that sweetly sleepsOn turtles' feathers, whilst a guilty conscienceIs a black register wherein is writAll our good deeds and bad, a perspectiveThat shows us hell! That we cannot be suffer'dTo do good when we have a mind to it!This is manly sorrow;These tears, I am very certain, never grewIn my mother's milk. My estate is sunkBelow the degree of fear: where wereThese penitent fountains while she was living?O, they were frozen up! Here is a sightAs direful to my soul as is the swordUnto a wretch hath slain his father.Come, I 'll bear thee hence,And execute thy last will; that 's deliverThy body to the reverend disposeOf some good women: that the cruel tyrantShall not deny me. Then I 'll post to Milan,Where somewhat I will speedily enactWorth my dejection.Exit [with the body].