Exit
PESC. Doctor, he did not fear you throughly.
DOC. True;
I was somewhat too forward.
BOS. Mercy upon me,
What a fatal judgment hath fallen upon this Ferdinand!
PESC. Knows your grace what accident hath brought
Unto the prince this strange distraction?
CARD. [Aside] I must feign somewhat.—Thus they say it grew.
You have heard it rumored, for these many years
None of our family dies but there is seen
The shape of an old woman, which is given
By tradition to us to have been murdered
By her nephews for her riches. Such a figure
One night, as the prince sat up late at ’s book,
Appeared to him; when crying out for help,
The gentlemen of’s chamber found his grace
All on a cold sweat, altered much in face
And language: since which apparition,
He hath grown worse and worse, and I much fear
He cannot live.
BOS. Sir, I would speak with you.
PESC. We’ll leave your grace,
Wishing to the sick prince, our noble lord,
All health of mind and body.
CARD. You are most welcome.
Exeunt Pescara, Malateste, and Doctor
Are you come? so.—[Aside] This fellow must not know
By any means I had intelligence
In our duchess’ death; for, though I counselled it,
The full of all th’ engagement seemed to grow
From Ferdinand.—Now, sir, how fares our sister?
I do not think but sorrow makes her look
Like to an oft-dyed garment: she shall now
Taste comfort from me. Why do you look so wildly?
Oh, the fortune of your master here the prince
Dejects you; but be you of happy comfort:
If you’ll do one thing for me I’ll entreat,
Though he had a cold tombstone o’er his bones,
I’d make you what you would be.
BOS. Anything;
Give it me in a breath, and let me fly to’t:
They that think long small expedition win,
For musing much o’ th’ end cannot begin.
Enter Julia
JUL. Sir, will you come in to supper?
CARD. I am busy;
Leave me.
JUL. [Aside] What an excellent shape hath that fellow!
CARD. ’Tis thus. Antonio lurks here in Milan:
Inquire him out, and kill him. While he lives,
Our sister cannot marry; and I have thought
Of an excellent match for her. Do this, and style me
Thy advancement.
BOS. But by what means shall I find him out?
CARD. There is a gentleman called Delio
Here in the camp, that hath been long approved
His loyal friend. Set eye upon that fellow;
Follow him to mass; maybe Antonio,
Although he do account religion
But a school-name, for fashion of the world
May accompany him; or else go inquire out
Delio’s confessor, and see if you can bribe
Him to reveal it. There are a thousand ways
A man might find to trace him; as to know
What fellows haunt the Jews for taking up
Great sums of money, for sure he’s in want;
Or else to go to th’ picture-makers, and learn
Who bought her picture lately: some of these
Happily may take.
BOS. Well, I’ll not freeze i’ th’ business:
I would see that wretched thing, Antonio,
Above all sights i’ th’ world.
CARD. Do, and be happy.
Exit
BOS. This fellow doth breed basilisks in ’s eyes,
He’s nothing else but murder; yet he seems
Not to have notice of the duchess’ death.
’Tis his cunning: I must follow his example;
There cannot be a surer way to trace
Than that of an old fox.
Re-enter Julia, with a pistol
JUL. So, sir, you are well met.
BOS. How now?
JUL. Nay, the doors are fast enough: Now, sir,
I will make you confess your treachery.
BOS. Treachery?
JUL. Yes,
Confess to me which of my women ’twas
You hired to put love-powder into my drink?
BOS. Love-powder?
JUL. Yes, when I was at Malfi.
Why should I fall in love with such a face else?
I have already suffered for thee so much pain,
The only remedy to do me good
Is to kill my longing.
BOS. Sure, your pistol holds
Nothing but perfumes or kissing-comfits.104
Excellent lady! You have a pretty way on’t
To discover your longing. Come, come, I’ll disarm you,
And arm you thus: yet this is wondrous strange.
JUL. Compare thy form and my eyes together, you’ll find
My love no such great miracle. Now you’ll say
I am wanton: this nice modesty in ladies
Is but a troublesome familiar that haunts them.
BOS. Know you me, I am a blunt soldier.
JUL. The better:
Sure, there wants fire where there are no lively sparks
Of roughness.
BOS. And I want compliment.105
JUL. Why, ignorance
In courtship cannot make you do amiss,
If you have a heart to do well.
BOS. You are very fair.
JUL. Nay, if you lay beauty to my charge,
I must plead unguilty.
BOS. Your bright eyes carry
A quiver of darts in them sharper than sunbeams.
JUL. You will mar me with commendation,
Put yourself to the charge of courting me,
Whereas now I woo you.
BOS. [Aside] I have it, I will work upon this creature.—
Let us grow most amorously familiar:
If the great Cardinal now should see me thus,
Would he not count me a villain?
JUL. No; he might
Count me a wanton, not lay a scruple
Of offence on you; for if I see and steal
A diamond, the fault is not i’ th’ stone,
But in me the thief that purloins it. I am sudden
With you: we that are great women of pleasure
Use to cut off these uncertain wishes
And unquiet longings, and in an instant join
The sweet delight and the pretty excuse together.
Had you been i’ th’ street, under my chamber-window,
Even there I should have courted you.
BOS. Oh, you are
An excellent lady!
JUL. Bid me do somewhat for you
Presently to express I love you.
BOS. I will;
And if you love me, fail not to effect it.
The Cardinal is grown wondrous melancholy;
Demand the cause, let him not put you off
With feigned excuse; discover the main ground on’t.
JUL. Why would you know this?
BOS. I have depended on him,
And I hear that he is fallen in some disgrace
With the emperor: if he be, like the mice
That forsake falling houses, I would shift
To other dependence.
JUL. You shall not need
Follow the wars: I’ll be your maintenance.
BOS. And I your loyal servant: but I cannot
Leave my calling.
JUL. Not leave an ungrateful
General for the love of a sweet lady?
You are like some cannot sleep in feather-beds,
But must have blocks for their pillows.
BOS. Will you do this?
JUL. Cunningly.
BOS. To-morrow I’ll expect th’ intelligence.
JUL. To-morrow? get you into my cabinet;
You shall have it with you. Do not delay me,
No more than I do you: I am like one
That is condemned; I have my pardon promised,
But I would see it sealed. Go, get you in:
You shall see me wind my tongue about his heart
Like a skein of silk.
Exit Bosola
Re-enter Cardinal
CARD. Where are you?
Enter Servants
SERVANTS. Here.
CARD. Let none, upon your lives, have conference
With the Prince Ferdinand, unless I know it.—
[Aside] In this distraction he may reveal
The murder.
Exeunt Servants
Yond’s my lingering consumption:
I am weary of her, and by any means
Would be quit of.
JUL. How now, my lord? what ails you?
CARD. Nothing.
JUL. Oh, you are much altered: come, I must be
Your secretary,106 and remove this lead
From off your bosom: what’s the matter?
CORD. I may not
Tell you.
JUL. Are you so far in love with sorrow
You cannot part with part of it? or think you
I cannot love your grace when you are sad
As well as merry? or do you suspect
I, that have been a secret to your heart
These many winters, cannot be the same
Unto your tongue?
CARD. Satisfy thy longing,—
The only way to make thee keep my counsel
Is, not to tell thee.
JUL. Tell your echo this,
Or flatterers, that like echoes still report
What they hear though most imperfect, and not me;
For if that you be true unto yourself,
I’ll know.
CARD. Will you rack me?
JUL. NO, judgment shall
Draw it from you: it is an equal fault,
To tell one’s secrets unto all or none.
CARD. The first argues folly.
JUL. But the last tyranny.
CARD. Very well: why, imagine I have committed
Some secret deed which I desire the world
May never hear of.
JUL. Therefore may not I know it?
You have concealed for me as great a sin
As adultery. Sir, never was occasion
For perfect trial of my constancy
Till now: sir, I beseech you—
CARD. You’ll repent it.
JUL. Never.
CARD. It hurries thee to ruin: I’ll not tell thee.
Be well advised, and think what danger ’tis
To receive a prince’s secrets: they that do,
Had need have their breasts hooped with adamant
To contain them. I pray thee, yet be satisfied;
Examine thine own frailty; ’tis more easy
To tie knots than unloose them: ’tis a secret
That, like a lingering poison, may chance lie
Spread in thy veins, and kill thee seven year hence.
JUL. Now you dally with me.
CARD. NO more; thou shalt know it.
By my appointment the great Duchess of Malfi
And two of her young children, four nights since,
Were strangled.
JUL. O Heaven! sir, what have you done!
CARD. How now? how settles this? think you your bosom
Will be a grave dark and obscure enough
For such a secret?
JUL. You have undone yourself, sir.
CARD. Why?
JUL. It lies not in me to conceal it.
CARD. No?
Come, I will swear you to’t upon this book.
JUL. Most religiously.
CARD. Kiss it.
[She kisses the book]
Now you shall
Never utter it; thy curiosity
Hath undone thee: thou’rt poisoned with that book;
Because I knew thou couldst not keep my counsel,
I have bound thee to’t by death.
Re-enter Bosola
BOS. For pity sake,
Hold!
CARD. Ha! Bosola?
JUL. I forgive you
This equal piece of justice you have done;
For I betrayed your counsel to that fellow:
He overheard it; that was the cause I said
It lay not in me to conceal it.
BOS. O foolish woman,
Couldst not thou have poisoned him?
JUL. ’Tis weakness,
Too much to think what should have been done. I go,
I know not whither.
Dies
CARD. Wherefore com’st thou hither?
BOS. That I might find a great man like yourself,
Not out of his wits as the Lord Ferdinand,
To remember my service.
CARD. I’ll have thee hewed in pieces.
BOS. Make not yourself such a promise of that life
Which is not yours to dispose of.
CARD. Who placed thee here?
BOS. Her lust, as she intended.
CARD. Very well:
Now you know me for your fellow-murderer.
BOS. And wherefore should you lay fair marble colors
Upon your rotten purposes to me?
Unless you imitate some that do plot great treasons,
And when they have done, go bide themselves i’ th’ graves
Of those were actors in’t?
CARD. No more; there is
A fortune attends thee.
BOS. Shall I go sue
To Fortune any longer? ’Tis the fool’s
Pilgrimage.
CARD. I have honors in store for thee.
BOS. There are a many ways that conduct to seeming
Honor, and some of them very dirty ones.
CARD. Throw
To the devil thy melancholy. The fire burns well:
What need we keep a stirring of’t, and make
A greater smother? Thou wilt kill Antonio?
BOS. Yes.
CARD. Take up that body.
BOS. I think I shall
Shortly grow the common bearer for churchyards.
CARD. I will allow thee some dozen of attendants
To aid thee in the murder.
BOS. Oh, by no means. Physicians that apply horseleeches to any rank swelling use to cut off their tails, that the blood may run through them the faster: let me have no train107 when I go to shed blood, lest it make me have a greater when I ride to the gallows.
CARD. Come to me after midnight, to help to remove
That body to her own lodging: I’ll give out
She died o’ th’ plague; ’twill breed the less inquiry
After her death.
BOS. Where’s Castruchio her husband?
CARD. He’s rode to Naples, to take possession
Of Antonio’s citadel.
BOS. Believe me, you have done
A very happy turn.
CARD. Fail not to come:
There is the master-key of our lodgings; and by that
You may conceive what trust I plant in you.
BOS. You shall find me ready.
Exit Cardinal
O poor Antonio,
Though nothing be so needful to thy estate
As pity, yet I find nothing so dangerous;
I must look to my footing:
In such slippery ice-pavements men had need
To be frost-nailed well, they may break their necks else;
The precedent’s here afore me. How this man
Bears up in blood! seems fearless! Why, ’tis well:
Security some men call t
he suburbs of hell,
Only a dead wall between. Well, good Antonio,
I’ll seek thee out; and all my care shall be
To put thee into safety from the reach
Of these most cruel biters that have got
Some of thy blood already. It may be,
I’ll join with thee in a most just revenge:
The weakest arm is strong enough that strikes
With the sword of justice. Still methinks the duchess
Haunts me.—There, there, ’tis nothing but my melancholy.
O Penitence, let me truly taste thy cup,
That throws men down only to raise them up!
Exit
SCENE III
Enter Antonio and Delio
DEL. Yond’s the Cardinal’s window. This fortification
Grew from the ruins of an ancient abbey;
And to yond side o’ th’ river lies a wall,
Piece of a cloister, which in my opinion
Gives the best echo that you ever heard,
So hollow and so dismal, and withal
So plain in the distinction of our words,
That many have supposed it is a spirit
That answers.
ANT. I do love these ancient ruins.
We never tread upon them but we set
Our foot upon some reverend history:
And, questionless, here in this open court,
Which now lies naked to the injuries
Of stormy weather, some men lie interred
Loved the church so well, and gave so largely to’t,
They thought it should have canopied their bones
Till doomsday; but all things have their end:
Churches and cities, which have diseases
Like to men, must have like death that we have.
ECHO. “Like death that we have.”
DEL. Now the echo hath caught you.
ANT. It groaned, methought, and gave
A very deadly accent.
ECHO. “Deadly accent.”
DEL. I told you ’twas a pretty one: you may make it
A huntsman, or a falconer, a musician,
Or a thing of sorrow.
ECHO. “A thing of sorrow.”
ANT. Aye, sure, that suits it best.
ECHO. “That suits it best.”
ANT. ’Tis very like my wife’s voice.
ECHO. “Aye, wife’s voice.”
DEL. Come, let’s walk further from’t. I would not have you
Go to th’ Cardinal’s to-night: do not.
ECHO. “Do not.”
DEL. Wisdom doth not more moderate wasting sorrow
Than time: take time for’t; be mindful of thy safety.
ECHO. “Be mindful of thy safety.”
ANT. Necessity compels me:
Make scrutiny throughout the passes of
Your own life, you’ll find it impossible
To fly your fate.
ECHO. “Oh, fly your fate.”
DEL. Hark!
The dead stones seem to have pity on you, and give you
Good counsel.
The Duchess of Malfi Page 55