Was frozen into marble: whereas those
Which married, or proved kind unto their friends,
Were by a gracious influence transhaped
Into the olive, pomegranate, mulberry,
Became flowers, precious stones, or eminent stars.
CAR. This is a vain poetry: but I pray you tell me,
If there were proposed me, wisdom, riches, and beauty,
In three several young men, which should I choose?
ANT. ’Tis a hard question: this was Paris’ case,
And he was blind in’t, and there was great cause;
For how was’t possible he could judge right,
Having three amorous goddesses in view,
And they stark naked? ’twas a motion
Were able to benight the apprehension
Of the severest counsellor of Europe.
Now I look on both your faces so well formed,
It puts me in mind of a question I would ask.
CAR. What is’t?
ANT. I do wonder why hard-favored ladies,
For the most part, keep worse-favored waiting-women
To attend them, and cannot endure fair ones.
DUCH. Oh, that’s soon answered.
Did you ever in your life know an ill painter
Desire to have his dwelling next door to the shop
Of an excellent picture-maker? ’twould 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
Served her the like, when she hath chafed extremely.
I love to see her angry. Softly, Cariola.
Exeunt Antonio and Cariola
DUCH. Doth not the color of my hair ’gin to change?
When I wax grey, I shall have all the court
Powder their hair with arras,65 to be like me.
You have cause to love me; I entered you into my heart
Before you would vouchsafe to call for the keys.
Enter Ferdinand behind
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
Love mixed 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:
For know, whether I am doomed 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.
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
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
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.66
DUCH. Sure, you came hither
By his confederacy.
FERD. The howling of a wolf
Is music to thee, screech-owl: prithee, peace.—
Whate’er thou art that hast enjoyed my sister,
For I am sure thou hear’st me, for thine own sake
Let me not know thee. I came hither prepared
To work thy discovery; yet am now persuaded
It would beget such violent effects
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, vile woman,
If thou do wish thy lecher may grow old
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
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?
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?
What should I name ’t unless a hollow bullet
Filled 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 the instruction
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.
Death told them, they should find him in great battles,
Or cities plagued with plagues: Love gives them counsel
To inquire for him ’mongst unambitious shepherds,
Where dowries were not talked of, and sometimes
’Mongst quiet kindred that had nothing left
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,
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 cased up, like a holy relic? I have youth
And a little beauty.
FERD. So you have some virgins
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
BETRAYED. How came he hither?—I should turn
This to thee, for that.
[Pointing the pistol at Cariola]
CAR. Pray, sir, do; and when
That you have cleft my heart, you shall read there
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
You would use it on yourself.
DUCH. His action seemed
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
As if a mine beneath my feet were ready
To be blown up.
CAR. ’Tis Bosola.
DUCH. Away!
O Misery! methinks unjust actions
Should wear these masks and curtains, and not we.
You must instantly part hence: I have fashioned it
Already.
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?
DUCH. Antonio, the master of our household,
Hath dealt so falsely with me in ’s accounts:
My brother stood engaged with me for money
Ta’en up of certain Neapolitan Jews,
And Antonio lets the bonds be forfeit.
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
My treasure and my jewels. Our weak safety
Runs upon enginous wheels:67 short syllables
Must stand for periods. I must now accuse you
Of such a feignèd crime as Tasso calls
Magnanima menzogna, a noble lie,
’Cause it must shield our honors.—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.
You had the trick in audit-time to be sick,
Till I had signed your quietus; and that cured you
Without help of a doctor.—Gentlemen,
I would have this man be an example to you all;
So shall you hold my favor; I pray, let him;
For h’as done that, alas, you would not think of,
And, because I intend to be rid of him,
I mean not to publish.—Use your fortune elsewhere.
ANT. I am strongly armed to brook my overthrow;
As commonly men bear with a hard year,
I will not blame the cause on’t; but do think
The necessity of my malevolent star
Procures this, not her humor. Oh, the inconstant
And rotten ground of service! you may see,
’Tis even like him, that in a winter night,
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 ’tis very fit
All mine should be so.
DUCH. So, sir, you have your pass.
ANT. You may see, gentlemen, what ’tis 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 weather comes, pours down, and runs into the sea again.
DUCH. I would know what are your opinions of this Antonio.
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.
1 OFF. He stopped 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.
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!
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 wished his dirty stirrup riveted through their noses, and followed after ’s mule, like a bear in a ring; would have prostituted their daughters to his lust; made their first-born intelligencers; 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: he hath left a sort of flattering rogues behind him; their doom must follow. Princes pay flatterers in their own money: flatterers dissemble their vices, and they dissemble their lies;68 that’s justice. Alas, poor gentleman!
DUCH. Poor? he hath amply filled his coffers.
BOS. Sure, he was too honest. Pluto,69 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 on the devil’s errand, he rides post and comes in by scuttles.70 Let me show you what a most unvalued jewel you have in a wanton humor thrown away, to bless the man shall find him. He was an excellent courtier and most faithful; a soldier that thought it as beastly to know his own value too little as devilish to acknowledge it too much. Both his virtue and form deserved a far better fortune: his discourse rather delighted to judge itself than show itself: his breast was filled with all perfection, and yet it seemed a private whisperingroom, 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? You shall want 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. 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 favor. Fare thee well, Antonio! since the malice of the world would needs down with thee, it cannot be said yet that any ill happened unto thee, considering thy fall was accompanied with virtue.
DUCH. Oh, you render me excellent music!
BOS. Say you?
DUCH. This good one that you speak of is my husband.
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 honors? possible?
DUCH. I have had three children by him.
BOS. Fortunate lady!
For you have made your private nuptial bed
The humble and fair seminary of peace.
No question but many an unbeneficed scholar
Shall pray for you for this deed, and rejoice
That some preferment in the world can yet
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, ’twould make the very Turks and Moors
Turn Christians, and serve you for this act.
Last, the neglected poets of your time,
In honor of this trophy of a man,
Raised by that curious engine, your white hand,
Shall thank you, in your grave, for’t; and make that
More reverend than all the cabinets
Of living princes. For Antonio,
His fame shall likewise flow from many a pen,
When heralds shall want coats71 to
sell to men.
DUCH. AS I taste comfort in this friendly speech,
So would I find concealment.
BOS. Oh, 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,
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 honor, and your flight
Will seem a princely progress, retaining
Your usual train about you.
DUCH. Sir, your direction
Shall lead me by the hand.
CAR. In my opinion,
She were better progress to the baths at Lucca,
Or go visit the Spa 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.
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 quilted72 anvil;
He fashions all sins on him, and the blows
Are never heard: he may work in a lady’s chamber,
As here for proof. What rests but I reveal
All to my lord? Oh, this base quality
Of intelligencer! why, every quality i’ th’ world
Prefers73 but gain or commendation:
Now for this act I am certain to be raised,
And men that paint weeds to the life are praised.
Exit
SCENE III
Enter Cardinal, Ferdinand, Malateste, Pescara, Silvio, and Delio
CARD. Must we turn soldier, then?
MAL. The emperor
Hearing your worth that way, ere you attained
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 honor
Of taking the French king prisoner?
MAL. The same.
Here’s a plot74 drawn for a new fortification
At Naples.
[They talk apart]
FERD. This great Count Malateste, I perceive,
Hath got employment?
DEL. No employment, my lord;
A marginal note in the muster-book, that he is
The Duchess of Malfi Page 51