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THE
TRAGEDY
OF THE DVTCHESSE
of Malfy.

As it was Presented priuatly, at the Black-
Friers; and publiquely at the Globe, By the
Kings Maiesties Seruants.

The perfect and exact Coppy, with diuerse
things Printed, that the length of the Play would
not beare in the Presentment.

VVritten by John Webster.

‘— Hora. — Si quid —
— Candidus Imperti si non his utere mecum’

LONDON:
Printed by NICHOLAS OKES, for Iohn
WATERSON, and are to be sold at the
signe of the CROWNE, in Paules
Church-yard, 1623.

The Actors Names.

Bosola,I.Lowin.
Ferdinand,1 R. Rurbridge. 2. I.Taylor.
Cardinall,1. H. Cundaile. 2. R Robinson.
Antonio,1. W Ostler. 2. R. Benfield.
Delio,I. Vnderwood.
Forobosco,N. Trowley.
Malateste
The Marquesse of Pescara, I. Rice.
Siluio,T. Pollard.
The seueral mad men,N. Towley. I.Vnderwood, &c.
The Dutchesse,R. Sharpe.
The Cardinalls Mis.I. Tomson.
The Doctor,
Cariola,R. Pallant
Court Officers.R. Pallant
Three young Children.
Two Pilgrimes.

TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE, GEORGE HARDING, Baron Barkeley of Barkeley Castle and Knight of the Order of the Bathe To the illustrious Prince CHARLES.

My Noble Lord,

That I may present my excuse,
why, (being a stranger to your
Lordshippe) I offer this Poem to
your Patronage, I plead this war-
rant;
Men (who neuer saw the
Sea, yet desire to behold that regi-
ment
of waters,) choose some eminent Riuer, to guide
them thither; and make that as it were, their Conduct,
or Position: But the like ingenious means, has your
fame arriued at my knowledge, receiuing it from some
of worth, who both in contemplation, and practise,
owe to your Honour their clearest service. I do not
altogether look up at your title: The ancien'st
Nobility, being but a rellique of time past, and the
truest Honor indeede being for a man to conferre
Honor on himself, which your Learning stiues to
Propagate, and shall make you arrive at the Dignity
of a great Example. I am confident this worke is
no unworthy your Honors perusal for by such
Poems as this, Poets haue kist the hands of Great
Princes, and drawne their gentle eyes to looke downe
upon their sheets of paper, when the Poets them-
selves
were bound up in their wining-sheets. The
like curtesie from your Lordship, shall make you liue
in your graue, and laurell spring out of it when the
ignorant scorners of the Muses (that like a wormes in
Libraries, seem to liue only, to destroy learning)
shall wither, neglected, and forgotten. This worke
and my selfe I humbly present to your approued
censure. It being the utmost of my wishes, to have your
Honorable selfe my weighty and perspicuous Com-
ment:
which grace so done me, shall euer be aknow-
ledged

By your Lordships
in all duty and
Obseruance,
Iohn Webster.

In the iust VVorth, of that well Deseruer,
Mr. IOHN WEBSTER, and upon this
Maister-peece of Tragœdy.

In this Thou imitat'st one Rich, and wise,
That sees His Good Deedes done before he dies;
As he by workes, Thou by this worke of Fame,
Ha'st well prouided for thy Liuing Name;
To trust to others Honorings, is worth's Crime,
Thy monument is rais'd in thy Life Time;
And 'tis most iust; for every Worthy Man
Is his owne Marble; and his Merit can
Cut Him to any figure, and express
More Art, then deaths Cathedrall Pallaces,
Where Royal Ashes keepe their Court: thy Note
Be euer Plainnes, 'tis the Richest Coate:
Thy Epitaph onely the Title Bee,
Write, Dutchesse, that will fetch a teare for thee,
For who e're saw this Dutchesse liue, and dye,
That could get off under a Bleeding Eye.

In Tragædiam.
Vt Lux ex Tenebris ictu percussa TONANTIS;
Illa, (Ruina Malis) claris fit Vita Poetis.

Thomas Middletonùs,
Poëta & Chron:
Londinensis.

To his friend Mr Iohn Webster
Vpon his Dutchesse
of Malfy

I Neuer saw thy Dutchesse, till the day,
That she was Liuely body'd in the play;
How'ere she answer'd her low-rated Loue,
her brothers anger, did so fatal prooue,
Yet my opinion is, she might spoke more,
But (neuer in her life) so well before.

WIL: ROVVLEY.

To the Reader of the Authour, and his Dutchesse of Malfy.

Crowne him a poet, whom nor Rome, nor Greece,
Transcend in all their's, for a Master-peece:
In which, whiles words and matter change, and Men,
Act one another; hee, from whose cleare Pen.
They All tooke life, To Memory hath lent
A lasting Fame, to raise his Monument.

IOHN FORD

[P5]

Actus primus.

Scena Prima.

Antonio, and Delio, Bosola, Cardinall.

Delio.

You are wel-come to your Country (deere Antonio)

You have bin long in France, and you returne

A very formall French-man, in your habit.

How do you like the French Court?

Ant.

I admire it,

In seeking to reduce both State, and People

To a fix'd Order, their iuditious King

Begins at home: Quits first his Royall Pallace

Of flattring Sicophants of dissolute,

And infamous persons which he sweetely termes

His Masters Master-peece (the worke of Heauen)

Considring duely, that a Princes Court

Is like a common Fountaine, whence should flow,

Pure siluer-droppes ingenerall: But if it chance

Some curs'd example poyson it neere the head,

Death, and diseases through the whole land spread.

And what is it makes this blessed gouernment,

But a most prouident Councell, who dare freely

Informe him, the corruption of the times?[P6]

Though some of the Court hold it presumption

To instruct Princes what they ought to do,

It is a noble duety to informe them

What they ought to fore-see: Here comes Bosola

The onely Court-Gall: yet I obserue his rayling

Is not for simple loue of Piety:

Indeede he rayles at those things which he wants,

Would be as leacherous, couetous, or proud,

Bloody, or enuious, as any man,

If he had meanes to be so: Here is the Cardinall.

Bos.

I do haunt you still.

Car.

So.

Bos.

I have done you

Better seruice then to be slighted thus:

Miserable age, where onely the reward

Of doing well, is the doing of it.

Car.

You inforce your merrit to-much.

Bos.

I fell into the Gallies in your seruice,

Where, for two yeares together, I wore two Towells in stead of
A shirt, with a knot on the shoulder, after the fashion of a
Romaine Mantle: Slighted thus? I will thriue some way:
Black-birds fatten best in hard weather: why not I,
In these dogge dayes?

Car.

Would you become honest,

Bos.

With all your diuinity, do but direct me the way to it, I
Have knowne many trauell farre for it, and yet returne as
Arrant knaues, as they went forth; because they carried
Themselues alwayes a long with them; Are you gon?
Some fellowes (they say) are possessed with the diuell,
But this great fellow, were able to possesse the greatest
Diuell, and make him worse.

Ant.

He hath denied thee some suit?

Bos.

He, and his brother, are like Plum-trees (that grow crooked
Ouer standing-pooles) they are rich, and ore-laden with
Fruite, but none but Crowes, Pyes, and Catter-pillers feede
On them: Could I be one of their flattring Panders, I
Would hang on their eares like a horse-leach, till I were full, and[P7]
Then droppe off; I pray leaue me.
Who would relie upon these miserable dependances, in expectation to
Be aduanc'd to morrow? what creature, euer fed worse, then hoping
Tantalus? nor euer did any man more fearfully, then he that hop'd
For a pleadon: There are rewards for hawkes, and dogges, and
When they have done us seruice; but for a Souldier, that hazards his
Limbes in a battaile, nothing but a kind of Geometry, is his last
Supportation.

Del.

Geometry?

Bos.

Aye, to hand in a faire paire of slings, take his latter-swinge in the
World, upon an honorable pare of Crowtches, from hospitall
To hospitall, fare ye well Sir. And yet do not you scorne us, for
Places in the Court, are but likes beds in the hospitall, where this
Mans head lies at that mans foote, and so lower, and lower.

Del.

I knew this fellow (seuen yeares) in the Gallies,
For a notorious murther, and it was thought
The Cardinall suborn'd it: he was releas'd
By the French Generall (Gaston de Foux)
When he recouer'd Naples.

Ant.

It is great pitty

He should be thus neglected, I have heard

He is very valiant: This foule mellancholly

Will poyson all his goodnesse, for (i will tell you)

If too immoderate sleepe, be truly sayd

To be an inward rust vnto the soule;

It then doth follow want of action

Breeds all blacke male-contents, and their close rearing

(Like mothes in cloath) do hurt for want of wearing.

SCENA II.

Antonio, Delio, Ferdinand, Cardinall, Dutchesse, Castruchio, Siluio, Rodocico, Grisolan, Bosola, Iulia, Cariola.

Del.

The Presence 'gins to fill, you promis'd me

To make the partaker of the natures

Of some of your great Courtiers.[P8]

Ant.

The Lord Cardinalls

And other strangers, that are now in Court,

I shall: here comes the great Calabrian Duke.

Ferd.

Who tooke the Ring oftnest?

Sil.

Antonia Bologna (my Lord)

Ferd.

Our Sister Duchesse great Master of her houshold?

Giue him the Iewell: when shall we leaue this sportiue-action,

And fall to action indeed?

Cast.

Me thinkes (my Lord)

You should not desire to go to war in person.

Ferd.

Now, for some grauity: why (my Lord?)

Cast.

It is fitting a Souldier arise to be a Prince, but not necessary

A Prince descend to be a Captaine?

Ferd.

Noe?

Cast.

No, (my Lord)

He were far better do it by a Deputy.

Ferd.

Why should he not as well sleepe, or eate, by a Deputy?

This might take idle, offensiue, and base office from him,

Whereas the other depriues him of honour.

Cast.

Beleeue my experience: that Realme is neuer long in quiet,

Where the Ruler, is a Souldier.

Ferd.

Thou toldst me

Thy wife could not endure fighting.

Cast.

True (my Lord.)

Ferd.

And of a iest, she broke of a Captaine,

She met, full of wounds: I have forgot it.

Cast.

She told him (my Lord) he was a pittifull fellow, to lie,

Like the Children of Ismael all in Tents.

Ferd.

Why, there is a wit were able to vndoe

All the Chyrurgeons of the City, for although

Gallants should quarrell, and had drawne their weapons,

And were ready to goe to it; yet her perswasions would

Make them put up.

Cast.

That she would (my Lord)

How do you like my Spanish Gennit?

Rod.

He is all fire.

Ferd.

I am of Pliney's opinion, I thinke he was begot by the wind,[P9]

He runs, as if he were ballassed with Quick-siluer.

Sil.

True (my Lord) he reeles from the Tilt often.

Rod.Gris.

Ha, ha, ha.

Ferd.

Why do you laugh? Me thinks you that are Courtiers

Should be my touch-wood, take fire, when I giue fire;

That is, laugh when I laugh, were the subiect neuer so wity,

Cast.

True (my Lord) I my selfe have heard a very good iest,

And have scorn'd to seeme to have so silly a wit, as to vnderstand it.

Ferd.

But I can laugh at your Foole (my Lord.)

Cast.

He cannot speake (you know) but he makes faces,

My Lady cannot abide him.

Ferd.

Noe?

Cast.

Not endure to be in merry Company: for she saies

Too much laughing, and too much Company, fils her

Too full of the wrinckle.

Ferd.

I would then have a Mathematicall Instrument made for

Her face, that she might not laugh out of compasse: I shall shortly

Visit you at Millaine (Lord Siluio.)

Sil.

Your Grace shall arriue most wel-come.

Ferd.

You are a good Horse-man (Antonio) you have excellent

Riders in France, what do you thinke of good Horse-man-ship?

Ant.

Noblely (my Lord) as out of the Grecian-horse, issued

Many famous Princes: So, out of braue Horse-man-ship,

Arise the first Sparkes of growing resolution, that raise

The minde, to noble action.

Ferd.

You have be-spoake it worthely.

Sil.

Your brother, the Lord Cardinall, and sister Dutchesse.

Card.

Are the Gallies come about?

Gris.

They are (my Lord.)

Ferd.

Here is the Lord Siluio, is come to take his leaue.

Del.

Now (Sir) your promise: what is that Cardinall?

I meane his Temper? they say he is a braue fellow,

Will play his fiue thousand crownes, at Tennis, Daunce,

Court Ladies, and one that hath fought single Combats.

Ant.

Some such flashes superficially hang on him, for forme:

But obserue his inward Character: he is a mellancholly

Church-man: The Spring in his face,is nothing but the[P10]

Ingendring of Toades: where he is iealious of any man,

He laies worse plots for them, then euer was impos'd on

Hercules: for he strewes in his way Flatters, Panders,

Intelligencers, Athiests, and a thousand such politicall

Monsters: he should have beene Pope: but in stead of

Comming to it, by the primatiue decensie of the church,

He did bestow bribes, so largely, and so impudently, as if he would

Have carried it away without heauens knowledge. Some good he

Hath done.

Del.

You have giuen too much of him: what is his brother?

Ant.

The Duke there? a most peruerse, and turbulent Nature,

What appeares in him mirth, is meerely outside,

If he laugh hartely, it is to laugh

All honesty out of fashion.

Del.

Twins?

Ant.

In qualitie:

He speakes with others Tongues, and heares mens suites,

With others Eares: will seeme to sleepe on the bench

Onely to intrap offenders, in their answeres;

Doombes men to death, by information,

Rewards by heare-say.

Del.

Then the Law to him

Is like a fowle black cob-web, to a Spider,

He makes it his dwelling, and a prison

To entangle those shall feede him.

Ant.

Most true:

He neu'r paies debts, vnlesse they be shewed turnes,

And those he will confesse, that he doth owe,

Last: for his brother, there, (the Cardinall)

They that do flatter him most, say Oracles

Hang at his lippes: and verely I beleeue them:

For the Diuell speakes in them.

But for their sister, (the right noble Duchesse)

You neuer fix'd your eye, on three faire Meddalls,

Cast in one figure, of so different temper:

For her discourse, it is so full of Rapture,

You onely will begin, then to be sorry[P11]

When she doth end her speech: and wish (in wonder)

She held it lesse vaine-glory, to talke much

Then your pennance, to heare her: whilst she speakes,

She throwes upon a man, so sweet a looke,

That it were able raise one to a Galliard

That lay in a dead palsey; and to doate

On that sweete countenance: but in that looke,

There speaketh so diuine a continence,

As cuts off all lasciuious, and vaine hope.

Her dayes are practis'd in such noble vertue,

That, sure her nights (nay more her very Sleepes)

Are more in Heauen, then other Ladies Shrifts.

Let all sweet Ladies, breake their flattring Glasses,

And dresse themselues in her.

Del.

Fye Antonia,

You play the wire-drawer with her commendations.

Ant.

I will case the picture up: onley thus much,

All her particular worth, growes to this somme:

She staines the time past: lights the time to come.

Cariola.

You must attend my Lady, in the gallery,

Some halfe an houre hence.

Ant.

I shall.

Ferd.

Sister, I have a suit to you:

Duch.

To me, Sir?

Ferd.

A Gentleman here: Daniel de Bosola:

One, that was in the Gallies.

Duch.

Yes, I know him:

Ferd.

A worthy fellow he is: pray let me entreat for

The prouisorship of your horse.

Duch.

Your knowledge of him,

Commends him, and prefers him.

Ferd.

Call him heither,

We now upon parting: Good Lord Siluio

Do us commend to all our noble friends

At the Leagues.

Sil.

Sir, I shall.

Ferd.

You are for Millaine?[P12]

Sil.

I am:

Duch.

Bring the Carroches: we will bring you down to the Hauen.

Cariola.

Be sure you entertaine that Bosola

For your Intelligence: I would not be seene in it.

And therefore many times I have slighted him,

When he did court our furtherance: as this Morning.

Ferd.

Antonio, the great Master of her houshold

Had been farre fitter:

Card.

You are deceiu'd in him,

His Nature is too honest for such businesse,

He comes: I will leaue you.

Bos.

I was lur'd to you.

Ferd.

My brother here (the Cardinall) could neuer abide you.

Bos.

Neuer since he was in my debt.

Ferd.

May be some oblique character in your face, made him suspect you?

Bos.

Doth he study Phisiognomie?

There is no more credit, to be giuen to the face,

Then to a sicke mans vryn, which some call

The Physitians whore, because she cozens him:

He did suspect me wrongfully:

Ferd.

For that

You must giue great men leaue to take their times:

Distrust, doth cause us seldome be deceiu'd;

You see, the oft shaking of the Cedar-Tree

Fastens it more at roote.

Bos.

Yet take heed:

For to suspect a friend vnworthely,

Instructs him the next way to suspect you,

And prompts him to deceiue you.

Ferd.

There is gold.

Bos.

So:

What followes? (Neuer raind such showres as these

Without thunderbolts in the taile of them;) whose throat must I cut?

Ferd.

Your inclination to shed blood, rides post

Before my occasion to vse you: I giue you that [P13]

To liue in the Court, here: and obserue the Duchesse,

To note all the particulars of her hauiour:

What suitors do sollicite her for marriage

And whom she best affects: she is a yong widowe,

I would not have her marry againe.

Bos.

No, Sir?

Ferd.

Do not you aske the reason: but be satisfied,

I say I would not.

Bos.

It seemes you would create me

One of your familiars.

Ferd.

Familiar? what is that?

Bos.

Why, a very quaint inuisible Diuell, in flesh:

An Intelligencer.

Ferd.

Such a kind of thriuing thing

I would wish thee: and ere long, thou maist arriue

At a higher place by it.

Bos.

Take your Diuels

Which Hell calls Angels: these curs'd gifts would make

You a corrupter, me an impudent traitor,

And should I take these they would take me Hell.

Ferd.

Sir, I will take nothing from you, that I have giuen;

There is a place, that I procur'd for you

This morning: (the Prouisor-ship of the horse)

Have you heard out?

Bos.

Noe.

Ferd.

It is yours, is it not worth thankes?

Bos.

I would have you curse your selfe now, that your bounty

(Which makes men truly noble) ere should make

Me a villaine: o, that to auoid ingratitude

For the good deed you have done me, I must do

All the ill man can inuent: Thus the Diuell

Candies all sinnes are: and what Heauen termes vild,

That names he complementall.

Ferd.

Be your selfe:

Keepe your old garbe of melencholly: it will expresse

You enuy those that stand aboue your reach,

Yet striue not to come neere them: This will gaine[P14]

Accesse, to priuate lodgings, where your selfe

May (like a pollitique dormouse,

Bos.

As I have seene some,

Feed in a Lords dish, halfe a sleepe, not seeming

To listen to any talke: and yet these Rogues

Have cut his throat in a dreame: what is my place?

The Prouisors-ship of the horse? say then my corruption

Grew out of horse-doong: I am your creature.

Ferd.

Away.

Bos.

Let good men, for good deeds, couet good fame,

Since place, and riches oft are bribes of shame

Sometimes the Diuell doth preach.

Exit Bosola.

Card.

We are to part from you: and your owne discretion

Must now be your director.

Ferd.

You are a Widowe:

You know already what man is: and therefore

Let not youth: high promotion, eloquence,

Card.

No, nor any thing without the addition, Honor,

Sway your high blood.

Ferd.

Marry? they are most luxurious,

Will wed twice.

Card.

O fie:

Ferd.

Their liuers are more spotted

Then Labans sheepe.

Duch.

Diamonds are of most value

They say; that have past through most Iewellers hands.

Ferd.

Whores, by that rule, are precious:

Duch.

Will you heare me?

I will neuer marry:

Card.

So most Widowes say:

But commonly that motion lasts no longer

Then the turning of an houreglasse, the funeral Sermon,

And it, end both together.

Ferd.

Now heare me:

You liue in a ranke pasture here, in the Court,

There is a kind of honney-dew, that is deadly:

It will poyson your fame; looke to it: be not cunning:[P15]

For they whose faces do belye their hearts,

Are Witches, ere they arriue at twenty yeeres,

Aye: and giue the diuell sucke.

Duch.

This is terrible good councell:

Ferd.

Hypocrisie is wouen of a fine small thred,

(Subtler, then Vulcans Engine: yet (beleeu it)

Your darkest actions: nay, your priuat'st thoughts,

Will come to light.

Card.

You may flatter your selfe,

And take your owne choice: priuately be married

Vnder the Eues of night.

Ferd.

Think it the best voyage

That ere you made; like the irregular Crab,

Which though it goes backward, thinkes that it goes right,

Because it goes its owne way, but obserue;

Such weddings, may more properly be said

To be executed, then celibrated.

Card.

The marriage night

Is the entrance into some prison.

Ferd.

And those ioyes,

Those lustfull pleasures, are like heauy sleepes

Which do fore-run mans mischiefe

Card.

Fare you well.

Wisdome begins at the end: remember it.

Duch.

I thinke this speech betweene you both was studied,

It came so roundly off.

Ferd.

You are my sister,

This was my Fathers Poyniard: do you see,

I would be loth to see it looke rusty, 'cause it was his:

I would have you to giue ore these chargeable Reuels;

A Vizor, and a Masque are whispering roomes

That were neu'r built for goodnesse: fare ye well:

And woemen, like that part, which (like the Lamprey)

Hath neu'r a bone in it.

Duch.

Fye Sir:

Ferd.

Nay,

I meane the Tongue: varietie of Courtship;[P16]

What cannot a neate knaue with a smooth tale,

Make a woman beleeue? farewell, lusty Widowe.

Duch.

Shall this moue me? if all my royall kindred

Lay in my way, vnto this marriage:

I would make them my low foote-steps: And euen now,

Euen in this hate (as men in some great battailes

By apprehending danger, have atchieu'd

Almost impossible actions: I have heard Souldiers say so,

So I, through frights, and threatnings, will assay

This dangerous venture: Let old wiues report

I wincked, and chose a husband: Cariola,

To thy knowne secricy, I have giuen up

More then my life, my fame:

Cariola.

Both shall be safe:

For I will conceale this secret from the world

As warily as those that trade in poyson,

Keepe poyson from their children.

Duch.

Thy protestation

Is ingenious, and hearty: I beleeue it.

Is Antonio come?

Cariola.

He attends you:

Duch.

Good deare soule,

Leaue me: but place thy selfe behind the Arras,

Where thou maist ouer-heare us: wish me good speed

For I am going into a wildernesse,

Where I shall find nor path, nor friendly clewe

To be my guide, I sent for you, Sit downe:

Take Pen and Incke, and write: are you ready?

Ant.

Yes:

Duch.

What did I say?

Ant.

That I should write some-what.

Duch.

O, I remember:

After this triumphs, and this large expence

It is fit (like thrifty husbands) we enquire

What is laid up for to morrow:

Ant.

So please your beauteous Excellence.

Duch.

Beauteous? Indeed I thank you; I look yong for your sake.[P17]

You have tane my cares upon you.

Ant.

I will fetch your Grace the

Particulars of your reuinew, and expence.

Duch.

O, you are an upright treasurer: but you mistooke,

For when I said I meant to make enquiry,

What is layd up for to morrow: I did meane

What is layd up yonder for me.

Ant.

Where?

Duch.

In Heauen,

I am making my will, (as it is fit Princes should

In perfect memory) and I pray Sir, tell me

Were not one better make it smiling, thus?

Then in deepe groanes, and terrible ghastly lookes,

As if the guifts we parted with procur'd

That violent distruction?

Ant.

O, much better.

Duch.

If I had a husband now, this care were quit:

But I intend to make you Ouer-seer;

What good deede, shall we first remember? say.

Ant.

Begin with that first good deed, began in the world,

After mans creation, the Sacrament of marriage,

I'ld have you first prouide for a good husband,

Giue him all.

Duch.

All?

Ant.

Yes, your excellent selfe.

Duch.

In a winding sheete?

Ant.

In a cople.

Duch.

St Winfrid, that were a strange will.

Ant.

It were strange if there were no will in you

To marry againe.

Duch.

What do you thinke of marriage?

Ant.

I take it, as those that deny Purgatory,

It locally containes, or heauen, or hell,

There is no third place in it.

Duch.

How do you affect it?

Ant.

My banishment, feeding my mellancholly,

Would often reason thus.[P18]

Duch.

Pray let us heare it.

Ant.

Say a man neuer marry, nor have children,

What takes that from him? onely the bare name

Of being a father, or the weake delight

To see the little wanton, ride a cocke-horse

Upon a painted sticke, or heare him chatter

Like a taught Starling.

Duch.

Fye, fie, what is all this?

One of your eyes is blood-shot, vse my Ring to it,

They say it is very soueraigne, it was my wedding Ring,

And I did vow neuer to part with it,

But to my second husband.

Ant.

You have parted with it now.

Duch.

Yes, to helpe your eye-sight.

Ant.

You have made me starke blind.

Duch.

How?

Ant.

There is a sawcy, and ambitious diuell

Is dauncing in this circle.

Duch.

Remooue him.

Ant.

How?

Duch.

There needs small coniuration, when your finger

May do it: thus, is it fit?

Ant.

What sayd you?

he kneeles

Duch.

Sir,

This goodly roofe of yours, is too low built,

I cannot stand vpright in it, nor discourse,

Without I raise it higher: raise your selfe,

Or if you please, my hand to helpe you: so.

Ant.

Ambition (Madam) is a great mans madnes,

That is not kept in chaines, and close-pent-roomes,

But in fair lightsome lodgings, and is girt

With the wild noyce of pratling visitans,

Which makes it lunatique, beyond all cure,

Conceiue not, I am so stupid, but I ayme

Whereto your fauours tend: But he is a foole

That (being a cold) would thrust his hands in the fire

To warme them.[P19]

Duch.

So, now the ground is broake,

You may discouer what a wealthy Mine,

I make you Lord of.

Ant.

O my vnworthinesse.

Duch.

You were ill to sell your selfe,

This darkning of your worth, is not like that,

Which trades-men vse in the City, their false lightes

Are to rid bad wares off: and I must tell you

If you will know where breathes a compleat man,

(I speake it without flattery) turne your eyes,

And progresse through your selfe.

Ant.

Were there nor heauen, nor hell,

I should be honest: I have long seru'd vertue,

And neu'r tane wages of her.

Duch.

Now she paies it,

The misery of us, that are borne great,

We are forc'd to woe, because none dare woe us:

And as a Tyrant doubles with his words,

And fearefully equiuocates: so we

Are forc'd to expresse our violent passions

In ridles, and in dreames, and leaue the path

Of simple vertue, which was neuer made

To seeme the thing it is not: Goe, go brag

You have left me heartlesse, mine is in your bosome,

I hope it will multiply loue there: You do tremble:

Make not your heart so dead a peece of flesh

To feare, more then to loue me: Sir, be confident,

What is it distracts you? This is flesh, and blood, (Sir,)

It is not the figure cut in Allablaster

Kneeles at my husbands tombe: Awake, awake (man)

I do here put off all vaine ceremony,

And onely do appeare to you, a yong widow

That claimes you for her husband, and like a widow,

I use but halfe a blush in it.

Ant.

Truth speake for me,

I will remaine the constant Sanctuary

Of your good name.[P20]

Duch.

I thanke you (gentle loue)

And 'cause you shall not come to me, in debt,

(Being now my Steward) here upon your lippes

I signe your Quietus est: This you should have beg'd now,

I have seene children oft eate sweete-meates thus,

As fearefull to devoure them too soone.

Ant.

But for your Brothers?

Duch.

Do not thinke of them,

All discord, without this circumference,

Is onely to be pittied, and not fear'd:

Yet, should they know it, time will easily

Scatter the tempest.

Ant.

These words should be mine,

And all the parts you have spoke, if some part of it

Would not have savour'd flattery.

Duch.

Kneele.

Ant.

Hah?

Duch.

Be not amaz'd, this woman is of my Councell,

I have heard Lawyers say, a contract in a Chamber,

(Per verba presenti) is absolute marriage:

Blesse (Heauen) this sacred Gordian, which, let violence

Neuer vntwine.

Ant.

And may our sweet affections, (like the Sphears)

Be still in motion.

Duch.

Quickning, and make

The like soft Musique.

Ant.

That we may imitate the louing Palmes

(Best Embleme of a peacefull marriage)

That neu'r bore fruite deuided.

Duch.

What can the Church force more?

Ant.

That Fortune may not know an accident

Either of ioy, or sorrow, to deuide

Our fixed wishes.

Duch.

How can the Church build faster?

We now are man, and wife, and it is the Church

That must but eccho this: Maid, stand a part,

I now am blinde.[P21]

Ant.

What is your conceit in this?

Duch.

I would have you leade your Fortune by the hand,

Vnto your marriage bed:

(You speake in me this, for we now are one)

We will onely lie, and talke together, and plot

To appease my humorous kindred; and if you please

(Like the old tale, in Alexander and Lodowicke)

Lay a naked sword betweene us, keepe us chast:

O, let me shrowd my blushes in your bosome,

Since it is the treasury of all my secrets.

Cariola.

Whether the spirit of greatnes, or of woman

Raigne most in her, I know not, but it shewes

A fearefull madnes, I owe her much of pitty.

Exeunt.

ACTVS II.

SCENA I.

Bosola, Castruchio, an Old Lady, Antonio, Delio, Duchesse, Rodorico, Grisolan.

Bos.

You say you would faine be taken for an eminent Courtier?

Cast.

It is the very maine of my ambition.

Bos.

Let me see, you have a reasonable good face for it already,
And your night-cap expresses your ears sufficient largely,
I would have you learne to twitle the strings of your band with a
Good grace, and in a set speech, (at the end of euery sentence,)
To hum, three, or foure times, or blow your nose (till it smart againe,)
To recouer your memory, when you come to be a president in
Criminall causes, if you smile upon a prisoner, hang him, but if
You frowne upon him, and threaten him, let him be sure to scape
The Gallowes.

Cast.

I would be a very merrie president,

Bos.

Do not sup a nights, it will beget you an admirable wit.

Cast.

Rather it would make me have a good stomake to quarrel,

For they say, your roaring-boyes eate meate seldome,

And that makes them so valiant:

But how shall I know whether the people take me[P22]

For an eminent fellow.

Bos.

I will teach a tricke to know it,

Giue out you lie a dying, and if you

Heare the common people curse you,

Be sure you are taken for one of the prime night-caps,

You come from painting now?

Old Lady.

From what?

Bos.

Why, from your scuruy face-physicke,

To behold thee not painted enclines somewhat neere

A miracle: These in thy face here, were deepe rutts,

And foule sloughes the last progresse:

There was a Lady in France, that hauing had the small pockes,

Flead the skinne off her face, to make it more leuell;

And whereas before she look'd like a Nutmeg-grater,

After she resembled an abortiue hedge-hog.

Old Lady.

Do you call this painting?

Bos.

No, no, but you call carreening of an old

Morphew'd Lady, to make her disembogue againe

There is rough-cast phrase to your plastique.

Old Lady.

It seemes you are well acquainted with my closset?

Bos.

One would suspect it for a shop of witch-craft,

To finde in it the fat of Serpents; spawne of Snakes, Iewes spittle,

And their yong children ordures, and all these for the face:

I would sooner eate a dead pidgeon, taken from the soles of the feete

Of one sicke of the plague, then kisse one of your fasting:

Here are two of you, whose sin of your youth, is the very

Patrimony of the Physition, makes him renew his

Foote-cloth with the Spring, and change his

High-priz'd curtezan with the fall of the leafe:

I do wonder you do not loath your selues,

Obserue my meditation now:

What thing is in this outward forme of man

To be belou'd? we account it ominous,

If Nature do produce a Colt, or Lambe,

A Fawne, or Goate, in any limbe resembling

A Man; and flye from it as a prodegy.

Man stands amaz'd to see his deformity,[P23]

In any other Creature but himselfe.

But in our owne flesh, though we beare diseases

Which have their true names, onely tane from beasts,

As the most vlcerous Woolfe, and swinish Meazeall;

Though we are eaten up of lice, and wormes,

And though continually we beare about us

A rotten and dead body, we delight

To hide it in rich tissew all our feare,

(Nay all our terrour) is, least our Phisition

Should put us in the ground, to be made sweete.

Your wife has gone to Rome: you two cople, and get you

To the wels at Leuca, to recouer your aches.

I have other worke on foote: I obserue our Duchesse

Is sicke a dayes, she puykes, her stomacke seethes,

The sins of her eie-lids, looke most teeming blew,

She waines in the cheeke, and waxes fat in the flanke;

And (contrary to our Italian fashion,)

Weares a loose-bodied Gowne, there is somewhat in it

I have a tricke, may chance discouer it

(A pretty one) I have bought some Apricocks,

The first our Spring yeelds.

Del.

And so long since married?

You amaze me.

Ant.

Let me seale your lipps for euer,

For did I thinke, that any thing but the ayre,

Could carry these words from you, I should wish

You had no breath at all: Now Sir, in your contemplation?

You are studdying to become a great wise fellow?

Bos.

O Sir, the opinion of wisedome, is a foule tettor,

That runs all ouer a mans body: if simplicity

Direct us to have no euill, it directs us to a happy

Being: For the subtlest folly proceedes from the

Subtlest wisedome: Let me be simply honest.

Ant.

I do vnderstand your in-side.

Bos.

Do you so?

Ant.

Because you would not seeme to appeare to the world

Puff'd up with your preferment: You continue[P24]

This out of fhashion mellancholly, leaue it, leaue it.

Bos.

Giue me leaue to be honest in any phrase, in any

Complement whatsoeuer, shall I confesse my selfe to you?

I looke no higher then I can reach:

They are the gods, that must ride on winged horses,

A Lawyers mule of a slow pace, will both suit

My disposition, and businesse: For (marke me)

When a mans mind rides faster then his horse can gallop,

They quickly both tyre.

Ant.

You would looke up to Heauen, but I thinke

The Diuell, that rules in the aire, stands in your light.

Bos.

O (Sir) you are Lord of the ascendant,

Chiefe man with the Duchesse, a Duke was your

Cosen German, remou'd: Say you were lineally

Descended from King Pippin, or he himselfe,

What of this? search the heads of the greatest riuers in

The World, you shall find them but bubles of water:

Some would thinke the soules of Princes were brought

Forth by some more weighty cause, then those of meaner persons,

They are deceiu'd, there is the same hand to them:

The like passions sway them, the same reason, that makes

A Vicar goe to Law for a tithe-pig,

And vndoe his neighbours, makes them spoile

A whole Prouince, and batter downe goodly

Cities, with the Cannon.

Duch.

Your arme Antonio, do I not grow fat?

I am exceeding short-winded: Bosola,

I would have you (Sir) prouide for me a Littor,

Such a one, as the Duchesse of Florence roade in.

Bos.

The Duchesse us'd one, when she was great with childe.

Duch.

I thinke she did: come hether, mend my ruffe,

Here, when? thou art such a tedious Lady; and

Thy breath smells of Lymmon pils, would thou hadst done,

Shall I sound vnder thy fingers? I am

So troubled with the mother.

Bos.

I feare too much.

Duch.

I have heard you say, that the French Courties[P25]

Weare their hats on fore the King.

Ant.

I have seene it.

Duch.

In the Presence?

Ant.

Yes:

Duch.

Why should not we bring up that fashion?

It is ceremony more then duty, that consists

In the remoouing of a peece of felt:

Be you the example to the rest of the Court,

Put on your hat first.

Ant.

You must pardon me:

I have seen, in colder countries, then in France,

Nobles stand bare to the Prince; and the distinction

My thought show'd reuerently.

Bos.

I have a present for your Grace.

Duch.

For me sir?

Bos.

Apricocks (Madam.)

Duch.

O sir, where are they?

I have heard of none to yeare.

Bos.

Good, her colour rises.

Duch.

Indeed I thanke you: they are wondrous faire ones:

What an vnskilfull fellow is our Gardiner?

We shall have none this moneth.

Bos.

Will not your Grace pare them?

Duch.

No, they tast of muske (me thinkes) indeed they do:

Bos.

I know not: yet I wish your Grace had parde them:

Duch.

Why?

Bos.

I forgot to tell you the knaue Gardner,

(Onely to raise his profit by them the sooner)

Did ripen them in horse-doung.

Duch.

O you iest:

You shall iudge: pray tast one.

Ant.

Indeed Madam,

I do not loue the fruit.

Duch.

Sir, you are loath

To rob us of our dainties: it is a delicate fruit,

They say they are restoratiue?

Bos.

It is a pretty[P26]

Art: this grafting.

Duch.

It is so: a bettring of nature.

Bos.

To make a pippin grow upon a crab,

A dampson on a black thorne: how greedily she eats them?

A whirlewinde strike off these bawd-farthingalls,

For, but for that, and the loose-bodied gowne,

I should have discouer'd apparently

The young spring-hall cutting a caper in her belly.

Duch.

I thanke you (Bosola:) they were right good ones,

If they do not make me sicke.

Ant.

How now Madame?

Duch.

This greene fruit and my stomake are not friends

How they swell me?

Bos.

Nay, you are too much swell'd already.

Duch.

O, I am in an extreame cold sweat.

Bos.

I am very sorry:

Duch.

Lights to my chamber: O, good Antonio

I feare I am vndone.

Exit Duchesse.

Del.

Lights there, lights.

Ant.

O my most trusty Delio, we are lost:

I feare she is falne in labour: and there is left

No time for her remoue.

Del.

Have you prepar'd

Those Ladies to attend her? and procur'd

That politique safe conueyance for the Mid-wife

Your Duchesse plotted.

Ant.

I have:

Del.

Make use then of this forc'd occasion:

Giue out that Bosola hath poyson'd her,

With these Apricocks: that will giue some colour

For her keeping close.

Ant.

Fye, fie, the Physitians

Will then flocke to her.

Del.

For that you may pretend

She will vse some prepar'd Antidote of her owne,

Least the Physitians should re poyson her.

Ant.

I am lost in amazement: I know not what to think of it.

Ex.

[P27]

SCENA II.

Bosola, old Lady, Antonio, Rodorigo, Grisolan: Seruants, Delio, Cariola.

Bos.

So, so: there is no question but her teatchiues

And most vulterous eating of the Apricocks, are apparant

Signes of breeding, now?

Old Lady.

I am in hast (Sir.)

Bos.

There was a young wayting-woman, had a monstrous desire

To see the Glasse-house.

Old La.

Nay, pray let me goe:

Bos.

And it was onely to know what strange instrument it was,

Should swell up a glasse to the fashion of a womans belly.

Old La.

I will heare no more of the Glasse-house,

You are still abusing woemen?

Bos.

Who I? no, onely (by the way now and then) mention
Your fraileties. The Orrenge tree beare ripe and greene
Fruit, and blossoms altogether: And some of you giue entertainment
For pure loue: but more, for more precious reward. The lusty
Spring smels well: but drooping Auntumne tasts well: If we
Have the same golden showres, that rained in the time of Iupiter
The Thunderer: you have the same Danes still, to hold up their
Laps to receiue them: didst thou neuer study the Mathematiques?

Old La.

What is that (Sir.)

Bos.

Why, to know the trick how to make many lines meete
In one center: Goe goe; giue your foster-daughters good councell:
Tell them, that the Diuell takes delight to hang at a womans girdle,
Like a false rusty watch that she cannot discerne how
The time passes.

Ant.

Shut up the Court gates:

Rod.

Why sir? what is the danger?

Ant.

Shut up the Posterners presently: and call

All the Officers of the Court.

Gris.

I shall instantly:

Ant.

Who keepes the key of the Parke-gate?[P28]

Rod.

Forobosco.

Ant.

Let him bring it presently.

Seruant

O, Gentlemen, of the Court, the fowlest treason.

Bos.

If that these Apricocks should be poysond, now;

Without my knowledge.

Seru.

There was taken euen now a Switzer

In the Duchesse Bed-chamber.

2.Seru.

A Switzer?

Seru.

With a Pistoll in his great cod-piece.

Bos.

Hh, ha, ha.

Seru.

The cod-piece was the case for it.

2.Ser.

There was a cunning traitor.

Who would have search'd his cod-piece?

Seru.

True, if he had kept out of the Ladies chambers:

And all the mowldes of his buttons, were leaden bullets.

2.Ser.

O wicked Caniball: a fire-lock in his cod-piece?

Seru.

It was a French plot upon my life.

2.Ser.

To see what the Diuell can do.

Ant.

All the Offices here?

Seru.

We are:

Ant.

Gentlemen,

We have lost much Plate you know; and but this euening

Iewels, to the value of foure thousand Duckets

Are missing in the Duchesse Cabinet,

Are the Gates shut?

Seru.

Yes.

Ant.

It is the Duchesse pleasure

Each Officer be lock'd into his chamber

Till the Sun-rysing: and to send the keyes

Of all their chests, and of their outward doores

Into her bed-chamber: She is very sicke.

Rod.

At her pleasure.

Ant.

She intreates you take it not ill: The Innocent

Shall be the more approu'd by it.

Bos.

Gentleman of the Wood-yard, where is your Switzer now?

Seru.

By this hand it was creadably reported by one of the Blackguard.

Del.

How fares it with the Duchesse?

Ant.

She is expos'd[P29]

Vnto the worst of torture, paine, and feare;

Del.

Speake to her all happy comfort.

Ant.

How I do play the foole with mine own danger?

You are this night (deere friend) to poast to Rome,

My life lies in your seruice.

Del.

Do not doubt me.

Ant.

O, It is farre from me: and yet feare presents me

Somewhat that looke like danger.

Del.

Beleeue it,

It is but the shadow of your feare, no more:

How superstitiously we mind our euils?

The throwing downe salt, or crossing of a Hare;

Bleeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse

Or singing of a Criket, are of powre

To daunt whole man in us: Sir, fare you well:

I wish you all the ioyes of a bless'd Father;

And (for my faith) lay this vnto your brest,

Old friends (like old swords) still are trusted best.

Cariola.

Sir, you are the happy father of a sonne,

Your wife commends him to you.

Ant.

Blessed comfort:

For heauen-sake tend her well: I will presently

Goe set a figure for his Natiuitie.

Exeunt.

SCENA III.

Bosola, Antonio.

Bos.

Sure I did heare a woman shreike: list, hah?

And the sound came (if I receiu'd it right)

From the Dutchesse lodgings: there is some stratagem

In the consyning all our Courtiers

To their seuerall wards: I must have part of it,

My Intelligence will freize else: List againe,

It may be it was the mellencholly bird,

(Best friend of silence, and of solitarines)

The Oowle, that schream'd so: hah? Antonio?[P30]

Ant.

I heard some noyse: who is there? what art thou? speake.

Bos.

Antonio? Put not your face; nor body

To such a forc'd expression of feare,

I am Bosola; your friend.

Ant.

Bosola?

(This Moale does vndermine me) heard you not

A noyce euen now?

Bos.

From whence?

Ant.

From the Duchesse lodging.

Bos.

Not I: did you?

Ant.

I did: or else I dream'd.

Bos.

Let us walke towards it.

Ant.

No: It may be, it was

But the rising of the winde:

Bos.

Very likely:

Me thinkes it is very cold, and yet you sweat.

You looke wildly.

Ant.

I have been setting a figure

For the Duchesse Iewells;

Bos.

Ah: and how falls your question?

Do you find it radicall?

Ant.

What is that to you?

It is rather to be question'd what designe

(When all men were commanded to their lodgings)

Makes you a night-walker.

Bos.

In sooth I will tell you:

Now all the Court is asleepe, I thought the Diuell

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.

This fellow will vndoe me;

You gaue the Duchesse Apricocks to day,

Pray Heauen they were not poysond?

Bos.

Poysond? a spanish figge

For the imputation.

Ant.

Traitors are euer confident,

Till they are discouer'd: There were Iewels stolne too,[P31]

In my conceit, none are to be suspected

More then your selfe.

Bos.

You are a false steward.

Ant.

Sawcy slaue: I will pull thee up by the rootes;

Bos.

May be the ruyne will crush you to peeces.

Ant.

You are an impudent snake indeed (sir)

Are you scarce warme, and do you shew your sting?

You Libell well (sir.)

Bos.

No (sir,)

Copy it out: and I will set my hand to it.

Ant.

My nose bleedes: One that were superstitious, would count

This ominous: when it merely comes by chance.

Two letters, that are wrought here, for my name

Are drown'd in blood: meere accident: for you (sir) I will take order:

In the morne you shall be safe: it is that must colour

Her lying-in: sir, this doore you passe not:

I do not hold it fit, that you come neere

The Duchesse lodgings, till you have quite your selfe;

The Great are like the Base; nay, they are the same,

When they seeke shamefull waies, to auoid shame.

Ex.

Bos.

Anonio here about, did drop a Paper,

Some of your helpe (falce-friend) o, here it is:

What is here? a childes Natiuitie calculated?

The Dutchesse was deliuer'd of a Sonne, 'tweene the houres twelue, and one, in the night: Anno Dom: 1504.

Bos.

(that is this yeere)

decimo nono Decembris,

Bos.

(that is this night)

taken according to the Meridian of Malfy

Bos.

(that is our Dutchesse: happy discouery)

The Lord of the first house, being combust in the ascendant, signifies short life: and Mars being in a human signe, joyn'd to the taile of the Dragon, in the eight house, doth threaten a violent death; Cæteta non scrutantur

Bos.

Why now it is most apparant: This precise fellow

Is the Dutchess Bawde: I have it to my wish:

This is a parcell of Intelligency

Our Courtiers were caside-vp for? It needes must follow,

That I must be committed, on pretence

Of poysoning her: which I will endure, and laugh at:[P32]

If one could find the father now: but that

Time will discouer; Old Castruchio

In the morning poasts to Rome; by him I will send

A Letter, that shall make her brothers Galls

Ore-flowe their Liuours, this was a thrifty way.

Though Lust do masque in nea'r so strange disguise,

She is oft found witty, but is neuer wise.

SCENA. IIII.

Cardinall,and Iulia,Seruant,and Delio.

Card.

Sit: thou art my best of wishes, pre-thee tell me

What tricke didst thou inuent to come to Rome,

Without thy husband.

Iul.

Why, (my Lord) I told him

I came to visit an old Anchorite

Here, for deuotion

Card.

Thou art a witty false one:

I meane to him.

Iul.

You have preuailed with me

Beyond my strongest thoughts: I would not now

Find you inconstant.

Card.

Do not put thy selfe

To such a voluntary torture: which proceedes

Out of your owne guilt.

Iul.

How (my Lord?)

Card.

You feare my constancy, because you have approou'd

Those giddy and wild turning in your selfe.

Iul.

Did you ere find them?

Card.

Sooth generally for woemen;

A man might striue to make glasse male-able,

Ere he should make them fixed.

Iul.

So, (my Lord)

Card.

We had need goe borrow that fantastique glasse

Inuented by Galileo the Florentine,

To view an other spacious world in the Moone,[P33]

And looke to finde a constant woman there.

Iul.

This is very well (my Lord.)

Card.

Why do you weepe?

Are teares your iustification? the selfe-same teares

Will fall into your husbands bosome, (Lady)

With a loud protestation, that you loue him

Aboue the world: Come, i will loue you wisely,

That is iealously, since I am very certaine

You cannot me make cuckould.

Iul.

I will go home

To my husband.

Card.

You may thanke me, (Lady)

I have taken you off your mellancholly pearch,

Boare you upon my fist, and shew'd you 'game,

And let you flie at it: I pray thee kisse me,

When thou wast with thy husband, thou wast watch'd

Like a tame Ellephant: (still you are to thanke me)

Thou hadst onely kisses from him, and high feeding,

But what delight was that? it was iust like one

That hath a little fingring on the Lute.

Yet cannot tune it: (still you are to thanke me.)

Iul.

You told me of a piteous wound in the heart,

And a sicke liuour, when you woed me first,

And spake like one in physicke.

Card.

Who is that?

Rest firme, for my affection to thee,

Lightning mooues slow to it.

Ser.

(Madam) a Gentleman

That is come post from Malfy, desires to see you.

Car.

Let him enter, i will with-draw.

Exit.

Ser.

He sayes,

Your husband (old Castruchio) is come to Rome,

Most pittifully tyrd with riding post.

Iul.

Signior Delio? it is one of my old Suitors.

Del.

I was bold to come and see you.

Iul.

Sir, you are wel-come.

Del.

Do you lie here?[P34]

Iul.

Sure, your owne experience

Will satisfie you so, our Romane Prelates

Do not keepe lodging, for Ladies.

Del.

Very well:

I have brought you no commendations from your husband,

For I know none by him.

Iul.

I heare he has come to Rome?

Del.

I neuer knew man, and beast, of a horse, and a knight,

So weary of each other, if he had had a good backe,

He would have vndertooke to have borne his horse,

His breech was so pittifully sore.

Iul.

Your laughter,

Is my pitty.

Del.

Lady, I know not whether

You want mony, but I have brought you some.

Iul.

From my husband?

Del.

No, from mine owne allowance.

Iul.

I must heare the condition, ere I be bound to take it.

Del.

Looke on it, it is gold, hath it not a fine colour?

Iul.

I have a Bird more beautifull.

Del.

Try the sound of it.

Iul.

A Lute-string far exceedes it,

It hath no smell, like Cassia, or cyuit,

Nor is it phisicall, though some fond Doctors

Perswade us, seeth's in Cullisses, i will tell you,

This is a Creature bred by --

Ser.

Your husband has come,

Hath deliuer'd a letter to the Duke of Calabria, that,

To my thinking hath put him out of his wits.

Iul.

Sir, you heare,

'Pray let me know your busines, and your suite,

As briefely as can be.

Del.

With good speed, I would wish you

(At such time, as you are non-resident

With your husband) my mistris.

Iul.

Sir, i will go aske my husband if I shall,

And straight returne your answere.

Exit.

Del.

Very fine,[P35]

Is this her wit, or honesty that speakes thus?

I heard one say the Duke was highly mou'd

With a letter sent from Malfy: I do feare

Antonio is betray'd: how fearefully

Shewes his ambition now, (vnfortunate Fortune)

They passe through whirle-pooles, and deepe woes do shun,

Who the euent weigh, ere the action is done.

Exit.

SCENA V.

Cardinall, and Ferdinand, with a letter.

Ferd.

I have this night dig'd up a man-drake.

Car.

Say you?

Ferd.

And I am growne mad with it.

Car.

What is the progedy?

Ferd.

Read there, a sister dampn'd, she is loose in the hilts:

Growne a notorious Strumpet.

Car.

Speake lower.

Ferd.

Lower?

Rogues do not whisper it now, but seeke to publish it,

(As Seruants do the bounty of their Lords)

Aloud; and with a couetuous searching eye,

To marke who note them: O confusion sease her,

She hath had most cunning baudes to serue her turne,

And more secure conueyances for lust,

Then Townes of garrison, for Seruice.

Card.

Is it possible?

Can this be certaine?

Ferd.

Rubarbe, o, for rubarbe

To purge this choller, here is the cursed day

To prompt my memory, and here it shall sticke

Till of her bleeding heart, I made a spunge

To wipe it out.

Card.

Why do you make your selfe

So wild a Tempest?[P36]

Ferd.

Would I could be one,

That I might tosse her pallace 'bout her eares,

Roote up her goodly forrests, blast her meades,

And lay her generall territory as wast,

As she hath done her honors.

Card.

Shall our blood?

(The royall blood of Arragon, and Castile)

Be thus attaincted?

Ferd.

Apply desperate physicke,

We must not now vse Balsamum, but fire,

The smarting cupping-glasse, for that is the meane

To purge infected blood, (such blood as hers:)

There is a kind of pitty in mine eie,

I will giue it to my hand-kercher; and now it is here,

I will bequeath this to her Bastard.

Card.

What to do?

Ferd.

Why, to make soft lint for his mother wounds,

When I have hewed her to peeces.

Card.

Curs'd creature,

Vnequall nature, to place womens hearts

So farre upon the left-side.

Ferd.

Foolish men,

That ere will trust their honour in a Barke,

Made of so slight, weake-bull-rush, as is woman,

Apt euery minnit to sinke it?

Car.

Thus

Ignorance, when it hath purchas'd honour,

It cannot weild it.

Ferd.

Me thinkes I see her laughing.

Excellent Hyenna, talke to me somewhat, quickly,

Or my imagination will carry me

To see her, in the shamefull act of sinne.

Card.

VVith whom?

Ferd.

Happily, with some strong thigh'd Bargeman;

Or one the wood-yard, that can quoit the fledge,

Or tosse the barre, or else some louely Squire

That carries coles up, to her priuy lodgings.[P37]

Card.

You flie beyond your reason.

Ferd.

Goe to (Mistris.)

It is not your whores milke, that shall quench my wild-fire,

But your whores blood.

Card.

How idlely shewes this rage?

Which carries you, as men conuar'd by witches, through the ayre,

On violent whirle-windes, this intemperate noyce,

Fitly resembles deafe-mens shrill discourse,

Who talke aloud, thinking all other men

To have their imperfection.

Ferd.

Have not you,

My palsey?

Card.

Yes, I can be angry

Without this rupture, there is not in nature

A thing, that makes man so deform'd, so beastly,

As doth intemperate anger: chide your selfe,

You have diuers men, who neuer yet exprest

Their strong desire of rest, but by vnrest,

By vexing of themselues: Come, put your selfe

In tune.

Ferd.

So, I will onely study to seeme

The thing I am not: I could kill her now,

In you, or in my selfe, for I do thinke

It is some sinne in us, Heauen doth reuenge

By her.

Card.

Are you starke mad?

Ferd.

I would have their bodies

Burn't in a coale-pit, with the ventage stop'd,

That their curs'd smoake might not ascend to Heauen:

Or dippe the sheetes they lie in, in pitch or sulphure,

Wrap them in it, and then light them like a match:

Or else to boile their Bastard to a cullisse,

And giue it his leacherous father, to renew

The sinne of his backe.

Card.

I will leaue you.

Ferd.

Nay, I have done,

I am confident, had I been damn'd in hell,[P38]

And should have heard of this, it would have put me

Into a cold sweat: In, in, i will go sleepe,

Till I know who leapes my sister, i will not stirre:

That knowne, i will find Scorpions to string my whips,

And fix her in a generall ecclipse.

Exeunt.

ACTVS III.

SCENA I.

Antonio, and Delio, Duchesse, Ferdinand, Bosola.

Ant.

Our noble friend (my most beloued Delio)

O, you have been a stranger long at Court,

Came you along with the Lord Ferdinand?

Del.

I did Sir, and how faires your noble Duchesse?

Ant.

Right fortunately well: She is an excellent

Feeder of pedegrees: since you last saw her,

She hath had two children more, a sonne, and daughter.

Del.

Me thinkes it was yester-day: Let me but wincke,

And not behold your face, which to mine eye

Is somewhat leaner, verily I should dreame

It were within this halfe houre.

Ant.

You have not been in Law, (friend Delio)

Nor in prison, nor a Suitor at the Court

Nor beg'd the reuersion of some great mans place,

Nor troubled with an old wife, which doth make

Your time so insencibly hasten.

Del.

Pray Sir tell me,

Hath not this newes arriu'd yet to the eare;

Of the Lord Cardinall?

Ant.

I feare it hath,

The Lord Ferdinand (that is newly come to Court,)

Doth beare himselfe right dangerously.

Del.

Pray why?

Ant.

He is so quiet, that he seemes to sleepe

The tempest out (as Dormise do in Winter,)

Those houses, that are haunted, are most still,[P39]

Till the diuell be up.

Del.

What say the common people.

Ant.

The common-rable, do directly say

She is a Strumpet.

Del.

And your grauer heades,

(Which would be pollitique) what censure they?

Ant.

They do obserue, I grow to infinite purchase

The least-hand way, and all suppose the Duchesse

Would amend it, if she could: For, say they

Great Princes, though they grudge their Officers

Should have such large, and vnconfined meanes

To get wealth vnder them, will not complaine

Least thereby they should make them odious

Vnto the people, for other obligation

Of loue, or marriage, betweene her and me,

They neuer dreame of.

Del.

The Lord Ferdinand

Is going to bed.

Ferd.

I will instantly to bed,

For I am weary: I am to be be-speake

A husband for you.

Duch.

For me (Sir?) 'pray who is it?

Ferd.

The great Count Malateste.

Duch.

Fie upon him,

A Count? he is a meere sticke of sugar-candy,

(You may looke quite thorough him) when I choose

A husband, I will marry for your honour.

Ferd.

You shall do well in it: How is it (worthy Antonio?)

Duch.

But (Sir) I am to have priuate conference with you,

About a scandalous report, is spread

Touching mine honour.

Ferd.

Let me be euer deafe to it:

One of Pasquils paper-bullets, court calumney,

A pestilent ayre, which Princes pallaces

Are seldome purg'd of: Yet, say that it were true,

I powre it in your bosome, my fix'd loue,

Would strongly excuse, extenuate, nay deny[P40]

Faults where they apparant in you: Goe be safe

In your owne innocency.

Duch.

O bless'd comfort,

This deadly aire is purg'd.

Exeunt.

Ferd.

Her guilt treads on

Hot burning cultures: Now Bosola,

How thriues our intelligence?

Bos.

(Sir) vncertainly,

It is rumour'd she hath had three bastards, but

By whom, we may go read in the Starres.

Ferd.

Why some

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

Vs'd on the Duchesse.

Ferd.

Sorcery, to what purpose?

Bos.

To make her doate on some desertles fellow,

She shames to acknowledge.

Ferd.

Can your faith, giue way

To thinke there is powre in potions, or in Charmes,

To make us loue, whether we will or no?

Bos.

Most certainely.

Ferd.

Away, these are meere gulleries, horred things

Inuented by some cheating mounte-banckes

To abuse us: Do you thinke that hearbes, or charmes

Can force the will? Some trialls have been made

In this foolish practise; but the ingredients

Were lenatiue poysons, such as are of force

To make the patient mad; and straight the witch

Sweares (by equiuocation, they are in loue.

The witch-craft lies in her rancke bood: this night

I will force confession from her: You told me

You had got (within these two dayes) a false key

Into her Bed-chamber.

Bos.

I have.

Ferd.

As I would wish.[P41]

Bos.

What do you intend to do?

Ferd.

Can you guesse?

Bos.

No:

Ferd.

Do not aske then:

He that can compasse 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

Thinke so.

Ferd.

What do you thinke then? pray?

Bos.

That you are

Your own Chronicle too much: and grosly

Flatter your selfe.

Ferd.

Giue me thy hand, I thanke thee:

I neuer gaue Pention but to flatterers,

Till I entertained thee: farewell,

That Friend a Great mans ruine strongely checks,

Who railes into his beliefe, all his defects.

Exeunt.

SCENA. II

Dutchesse, Antonio, Cariola, Ferdinand, Bosola, Officers.

Duch.

Bring me the Casket hither, and the Glasse;

You get no lodging here, to night (my Lord.)

Ant.

Indeed, I must perswade one:

Duch.

Very good:

I hope in time it will grow into a custome,

That Noble men shall come with cap, and knee,

To purchase a nights lodging, of their wiues.

Ant.

I must lye here.

Duch.

Must? you are a Lord of Misse-rule.

Ant.

Indeed, my Rule is onely in the night.

Duch.

To what vse will you put me,

Ant.

We will sleepe together:

Duch.

Alas, what pleasure can two Louers find in sleepe?

Cariola.

My Lord, I lye with her often: and I know[P42]

She will much disquiet you:

Ant.

See, you are complain'd of.

Cariola.

For she is the sprawlingst bedfellow.

Ant.

I shall like her the better for that.

Cariola.

Sir, shall I aske you a question?

Ant.

I pray thee Cariola.

Cariola.

Wherefore still when you lie with my Lady

Do you rise so early?

Ant.

Labouring men,

Count the Clocke oftnest Cariola,

Are glad when their task is ended.

Duch.

I will stop your mouth.

Ant.

Nay, that is but one, Venus had two soft Doues

To draw her Chariot: I must have another:

When wilt thou marry, Cariola?

Cariola.

Neuer (my Lord.)

Ant.

O fie upon this single life: forgoe it:

We read how Daphne, for her peeuish flight

Became a fruitlesse Bay-tree: Siriux turn'd

To the pale empty Reede: Anaxarate

Was frozen into Marble: whereas those

Which married, or prou'd kind vnto their friends

Were, by a gracious influence, transhap'd

Into the Oliffe, Pomgranet, Mulbery:

Became Flowres, precious Stones, or eminent Starres.

Cariola.

This is a vaine Poetry: but I pray you tell me,

If there were propos'd me, Wisdome, Riches, and Beauty,

In three seuerall young men, which should I choose?

Ant.

It is a hard question: this was Paris case

And he was blind in it, and there was great cause:

For how was it possible he could iudge right,

Hauing three amorous Goddesses in view,

And they starcke naked: it was a Motion

Were able to be-night the apprehention

Of the seveerest Counsellor of Europe.

Now I looke on both your faces, so well form'd

It puts me in mind of a question, I would aske.[P43]

Cariola.

What is it?

Ant.

I do wonder why hard-fauour'd Ladies

For the most part, keepe worse-fauour'd waieting women,

To attend them, and cannot endure faire ones.

Duch.

O, that is soone answer'd.

Did you euer in your life know an ill Painter

Desire to have his dwelling next doore to the shop

Of an excellent Picture-maker? it would disgrace

His face-making, and vndoe him: I pre-thee

When were we so merry? my haire tangles.

Ant.

Pray-thee (Cariola) let us steale forth the roome,

And let her talke to her selfe: I have diuers times

Seru'd her the like, when she hath chafde extreamely:

I loue to see her angry: softly Cariola.

Exeunt.

Duch.

Doth not the colour of my haire 'gin to change?

When I waxe gray, I shall have all the Court,

Powder their haire, with Arras, to be like me:

You have cause to loue me, I entred you into my heart

Before you would vouchsafe to call for the keyes.

We shall one day have my brothers take you napping:

Me thinkes his Presence (being now in Court)

Should make you keepe your owne Bed: but you will say

Loue mixt with feare, is sweetest: I will assure you

You shall get no more children till my brothers

Consent to be your Ghossips: have you lost your tongue? it is welcome:

For know whether I am doomb'd to liue, or die,

I can do both like a Prince.

Ferdinand gives her a ponyard.

Ferd.

Die then, quickle:

Vertue, where art thou hid? what hideous thing

Is it, that doth ecclipze thee?

Duch.

'Pray sir heare me:

Ferd.

Or is it true, thou art but a bare name,

And no essentiall thing?

Duch.

Sir:

Ferd.

Do not speake.

Duch.

No sir:

I will plant my soule in mine eares, to heare you.[P44]

Ferd.

O most imperfect light of humaine reason,

That mak'st so vnhappy, to fore see

What we can least preuent: Pursue thy wishes:

And glory in them: there is in shame no comfort,

But to be past all bounds, and sence of shame.

Duch.

I pray sir, heare me: I am married,

Ferd.

So:

Duch.

Happily, not to your liking: but for that

Alas: your sheeres do come vntimely now

To clip the birds wings, that is already flowne:

Will you see my Husband?

Ferd.

Yes, if I

Could change eyes with a Basilisque:

Duch.

Sure, you came hither

By his consideracy.

Ferd.

The howling of a Wolfe

Is musicke to the (schrech-Owle) pre'thee peace:

What ere thou art, that hast enioy'd my sister,

(For I am sure thou hearst me) for thine owne sake

Let me not know thee: I came hither, prepar'd

To worke thy discouery: yet am now perswaded

It would beget such violent effects

As would dampe us both: I would not for ten Millions

I had beheld thee: therefore vse all meanes

I neuer may have knowledge of thy name;

I enioy thy lust still, and a wretched life,

On that condition: And for thee (vilde woman,)

If thou do wish thy Leacher may grow old

In thy Embracements, I would have thee build

Such a roome for him, as our Anchorites

To holier vse enhabite: Let not the Sunne

Shine on him, till he is dead: Let Dogs, and Monkeys

Onely conuerse with him, and such dombe things

To whom Nature denies vse, to sound his name.

Do not keepe a Paraqueto, least she learne it;

If thou do loue him, cut out thine owne tongue

Least it bewray him.[P45]

Duch.

Why might not I marry?

I have not gone about, in this, to create

Any new world, or custome.

Ferd.

Thou art vndone:

And thou hast ta'ne that massiy sheete of lead

That hid thy husbands bones, and foulded it

About my heart.

Duch.

Mine bleedes for it.

Ferd.

Thine? thy heart?

What should I nam it, vnlesse a hollow bullet

Fill'd with vnquenchable wild-fire?

Duch.

You are, in this

Too strict: and were you not my Princely brother

I would say too wilfull: My reputation

Is safe.

Ferd.

Dost thou know what reputation is

I will tell thee, to small purpose, since the instruction

Comes now too late:

Upon a time Reputation, Loue, and Death,

Would trauell ore the world: and it was concluded

That they should part, and take three seuerall wayes:

Death told them, they should find him in great Battailes:

Or Cities plagu'd with plagues: Loue giues them councell

To enquire for him 'mongst unambitious shepheards,

Where dowries were not talk'd 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 meete

I am neuer found againe: And so, for you:

You have shooked hands with Reputation,

And made him inuisible: So fare you well.

I will neuer see you more.

Duch.

Why should onely I,

Of all the other Princes of the World

Be cas'd-vp, like a holy Relique? I have youth,

And a litle beautie.[P46]

Ferd.

So you have some Virgins,

That are Witches: I will neuer see thee more.

Exit.

Duch.

You saw this apparition.

Enter Antonio with a Pistoll.

Ant.

Yes: we are

Betraid; how came he hither? I should turne

This, to thee, for that.

Cariola.

Pray sir do: and when

That you have cleft my heart, you shall read there,

Mine innocence:

Duch.

That Gallery gaue him entrance.

Ant.

I would this terrible thing would come againe,

That (standing on my Guard) I might relate

My warrantable loue: ha, what meanes this?

Duch.

He left this with me:

she shewes the poniard.

Ant.

And it seemes, did wish

You would vse it on your selfe?

Duch.

His Action

Seem'd to intend so much.

Ant.

This hath a handle to it,

As well as a point, turne it towards him,

And so fasten the keene edge, in his rancke gall:

How now? who knocks? more Earthquakes?

Duch.

I stand

As if a Myne, beneath my feete, were ready

To be blowne up.

Cariola.

It is Bosola.

Duch.

Away,

O misery, me thinkes vniust actions

Should weare these masques, and curtaines; and not we:

You must instantly part hence: I have fashion'd it already.

Ex. Ant.

Bos.

The Duke your brother is ta'ne up in a whirlewind

Hath tooke horse, and his rid poast to Rome.

Duch.

So late?

Bos.

He told me (as he mounted into the sadle,)

You were vndone.

Duch.

Indeed, I am very neere it.

Bos.

What is the matter?[P47]

Duch.

Antonio, the master of our house-hold

Hath dealt so falsely with me, in his accounts:

My brother stood engag'd with me for money

Ta'ne up of certaine Neopolitane Iewes,

And Antonio to let's the Bonds be forfeyt.

Bos.

Strange: this is cunning:

Duch.

And hereupon

My brothers Bills at Naples are protested

Against: call up our Officers.

Bos.

I shall.

Exit.

Duch.

The place that you must flye to, is Ancona,

Hire a howse there. I will send after you

My Treasure, and my Iewils: our weake safetie

Runnes upon engenous wheeles: short sillables,

Must stand for periods: I must now accuse you

Of such a fained crime, as Tasso calls

Magnanima Mensogna: A Noble Lie,

'Cause it must shield our honors: harke they are comming.

Ant.

Will your Grace heare me?

Duch.

I have got well by you: you have yeelded me

A million of losse; I am like to inherit

The peoples curses for your Stewardship:

You had the tricke, in Audit time to be sicke,

Till I had sign'd your Quietus; and that cur'de you

Without helpe of a Doctor. Gentlemen,

I would have this man be an example to you all:

So shall you hold my fauour: I pray let him;

For he has done that (alas) you would not thinke of,

And (because I intent to be rid of him)

I meane not to publish: vse your fortune else-where.

Ant.

I am strongely arm'd to brooke my ouer-throw,

As commonly men beare with a hard yeere:

I will not blame the cause of it; but do thinke

The necessitie of my maleuolent starre

Procure this, not her humour: O the inconstant,

And rotten ground of seruice, you may see:

It is eu'n like him, that in a winter night[P48]

Takes a long slumber, ore a dying fire;

A-loth to part from it: yet parts thence as cold,

As when he first sat downe.

Duch.

We do confiscate

(Towards the satisfying of your accounts)

All that you have.

Ant.

I am all yours: and it is very fit

All mine should be so.

Duch.

So, sir; you have your Passe.

Ant.

You may see (Gentlemen) what it is to serue

A Prince with body, and soule.

Exit.

Bos.

Here is an example, for extortion; what moysture, is drawne out of the Sea, when fowle weather comes, powres downe, and runnes into the Sea againe.

Duch.

I would know what are your opinions of this Antonio.

2.Offi.

He could not abide to see a Pigges head gaping,

I thought your Grace would finde him a Iew:

3.Offi.

I would you had been his Officer, for your owne sake.

3.Offi.

You would have had more money.

1.Offi.

He stop'd his eares with blacke wooll: and to (those came

To him for money) said he was thicke of hearing.

2.Offi.

Some said he was an hermophrodite, for he could not abide a woman.

4.Offi.

How scuruy prowd he would looke, when the Treasury was full:

Well, let him goe:

1.Offi.

Yes, and the chippings of the Buttrey fly after him,

To scowre his gold Chaine.

Exeunt.

Duch.

Leaue us: what do you thinke of these?

Bos.

That these are Rogues, that in his prosperitie,

But to have waited on his fortune, could have wish'd

His durty Stirrop riuited through their noses:

And follow'd after his Mule, like a Beare in a Ring.

Would have prostituted their daughters, to his Lust:

Made their first-borne and Intelligencers: thought none happy

But such as were borne vnder his bless'd Plannet:

And wore his Liuory: and do these Lyce drop off now?

Well, neuer looke to have the like againe;[P49]

He hath left a sort of flattring rogues, behind him,

Their doombe must follow: Princes pay flatterers,

In their owne money: Flatterers dissemble their vices,

And they dissemble their lies, that is iustice:

Alas, poore gentleman,

Duch.

Poore? he hath amply fill'd his cofers.

Bos.

Sure he was too honest: Pluto the god of riches,

When he is sent (by Iupiter) to any man

He goes limping, to signifie that wealth

That comes on god's name, comes slowly, but when he is sent

On the diuells arrand, he rides poast, and comes in by scuttles:

Let me shew you, what a most vnualu'd iewell,

You have (in a wanton humour) throwne away,

To blesse the man shall find him: He was an excellent

Courtier, and most faithfull, a souldier, that thought it

As beastly to know his owne value too little,

As deuillish to acknowledge it too much,

Both his vertue, and forme, deseru'd a farre better fortune:

His discourse rather delighted to iudge it selfe, then shew it selfe.

His breast was fill'd with all perfection,

And yet it seem'd a priuate whispring roome.

It made so little noyse of it.

Duch.

But he was basely descended.

Bos.

Will you make your selfe a mercinary herald,

Rather to examine mens pedegrees, then vertues?

You shall want him,

For know an honest states-man to a Prince,

Is like a Cedar, planted by a Spring,

The Spring bathes the trees roote, the gratefull tree,

Rewards it with his shadow: you have not done so,

I would sooner swim to the Bermoothes on two Politisians

Rotten bladders, tide together with an Intelligencers hart-string

Then depend on so changeable a Princes fauour.

Fare-thee-well (Antonio) since the mallice of the world

Would needes downe with thee, it cannot be sayd yet

That any ill happened vnto thee, considering thy fall,

Was accompanied with vertue.[P50]

Duch.

O, you render me excellent Musicke.

Bos.

Say you?

Duch.

This good one that you speake of, is my husband.

Bos.

Do I not dreame? can this ambitious age

Have so much goodnes in it, as to prefer

A man, meerely for worth: without these shadowes

Of wealth, and painted honors? possible?

Duch.

I have had three children by him.

Bos.

Fortunate Lady.

For you have made your priuate nuptiall bed

The humble, and faire Seminary of peace,

No question but: many an vnbenific'd Scholler

Shall pray for you, for this deed, and reioyce

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

Souldiers it would make the very Turkes and Moores

Turne Christians, and serue you for this act.

Last, the neglected Poets of your time,

(In honour of this trophee of a man

Rais'd by that curious engine, (your white hand)

Shall thanke you, in your graue for it; and make that

More reuerend then all the Cabinets

Of liuing Princes: For Antonio

His fame, shall likewise flow, from many a pen,

When Heralds shall want coates, to sell to men.

Duch.

As I taste comfort, in this friendly speech,

So would I finde concealement.

Bos.

O the secret of my Prince,

Which I will weare on the in-side of my heart.

Duch.

You shall take charge of all my coyne, and iewels,

And follow him, for he retires himselfe

To Ancona.

Bos.

So.

Duch.

Whether, within few days[P51]

I meane to follow thee.

Bos.

Let me thinke:

I would wish your Grace, to faigne a Pilgrimage

To our Lady of Loretto, (scarce seauen leagues

From faire Ancona) so may you depart

Your Country, with more honour, and your flight

Will seeme a Princely progresse, retaining

Your vsuall traine about you.

Duch.

Sir, your direction

Shall lead me, by the hand.

Cariola.

In my opinion,

She were better progresse to the bathes

At Leuca, or go visit the Spaw

In Germany, for (if you will beleeue me)

I do not like this iesting with religion,

This faigned Pilgrimage.

Duch.

Thou art a superstitious foole,

Prepare us instantly for our departure:

Past sorrowes, let us moderately lament them,

For those to come, seeke wisely, to preuent them.

Exit.

Bos.

A Politician is the diuells quilted anvell,

He fashions all sinnes on him, and the blowes

Are neuer heard, he may worke in a Ladies Chamber,

(As here for proofe) what rests, but I reueale

All to my Lord? o, this base quality

Of Intelligencer? why, euery Quality in the world

Preferres but gaine, or commendation:

Now for this act, I am certaine to be rais'd,

And men that paint weedes, (to the life) are prais'd.

Exit.

SCENA III

Cardinall, Ferdinand, Mallateste, Pescara, Siluio, Delio, Bosola.

Card.

Must we turne Souldier then?

Mal.

The Emperour,[P52]

Hearing your worth that way, (ere you attain'd

This reuerend garment,) ioynes you in commission

With the right fortunate souldier, the Marquis of Pescara,

And the famous Lanoy.

Card.

He that had the honour

Of taking the French King Prisoner?

Mal.

The same,

Here is a plot drawne, for a new Fortification,

At Naples.

Ferd.

This great Count Malastete, I perceiue

Hath got employment?

Del.

No employment (my Lord)

A marginall note in the muster-booke, that he is

A voluntary Lord.

Ferd.

He is no Souldier?

Del.

He has worne gun-powder, in his hollow tooth, for the tooth-ache.

Sil.

He comes to the leaguer, with a full intent,

To eate fresh beefe, and garlicke, meanes to stay

Till the sent begon, and straight returne to Court.

Del.

He hath read all the late seruice,

As the City Chronicle relates it,

And keepe two Pewterers going, onely to expresse

Battailes in modell.

Sil.

Then hel; fight by the booke.

Del.

By the Almanacke, I thinke

To choose good dayes, and shun the Criticall,

That is his mistris skarfe.

Sil.

Yes, he protests

He would do much for that taffita,

Del.

I think he would run away from a battaile

To saue it from taking prisoner.

Sil.

He is horribly afraid,

Gun-powder will spoile the perfume of it,

Del.

I saw a Duch-man breake his pate once

For calling him pot-gun, he made his head

Have a boare in it, like a musket.

Sil.

I would he had made a touch-hole to it.[P53]

He is indeede a guarded sumpter-cloath

Onely for the remooue of the Court.

Pes.

Bosola arriu'd? what should be the businesse?

Some falling out amongst the Cardinalls.

These factions amongst great men, they are like

Foxes, when their heards are deuided

They carry fire in their tailes, and all the Country

About them, goes to wracke for it.

Sil.

What is that Bosola?

Del.

I knew him in Padua, a fantasticall scholler,

Like such, who studdy to know how many knots was in

Hercules club, or what colour Achilles beard was,

Or whether Hector were not troubled with the tooth-ach,

He hath studdied himselfe halfe bleare-ei'd, to know the

True semitry of Cæsars nose by a shooing-horne, and this

He did to gaine the name of a speculatiue man.

Pes.

Marke Prince Ferdinand,

A very Salamander liues in his eye,

To mocke the eager violence of fire.

Sil.

That Cardinall hath made more bad faces with his oppression

Then euer Michael Angelo made good ones,

He lifts up his nose, like a fowle Por-pisse before a storme,

Pes.

The Lord Ferdinand laughes.

Del.

Like a deadly Cannon,

That lightens ere it smoakes.

Pes.

These are your true pangues of death,

The pangues of life, that strugle with great states-men,

Del.

In such a deformed silence, witches whisper their charmes.

Card.

Doth she make religion her riding hood

To keepe her from the sun, and tempest?

Ferd.

That: that damnes her: Me thinkes her fault, and

Beauty blended together, shew like leaprosie

The whiter, the fowler: I make it a question

Whether her beggerly brats were euer christned.

Card.

I will instantly sollicite the state of Ancona

To have them banish'd.

Ferd.

You are for Loretto?[P54]

I shall not be at your Ceremony: fare you well,

Write to the Duke of Malfy, my yong Nephew,

She had by her first husband, and acquaint him,

With his mothers honesty.

Bos.

I will.

Ferd.

Antonio?

A slaue, that onely smell'd of yncke, and coumpters,

And neu'r in his like, look'd like a Gentleman,

But in the audit time, go, go presently,

Draw me out a hundreth and fifty of our horse,

And meete me at the fort-bridge.

Exeunt.

SCENA IIII.

Two Pilgrims to the Shrine of our Lady of Loretto.

1.Pilg.

I have not seene a goodlier Shrine then this,

Yet I have visited many.

2.Pilg.

The Cardinall of Arragon

Is, this day to resigne his Cardinals hat,

His sister Duchesse likewise is arriu'd

To pay her vow of Pilgrimage, I expect

A noble Ceremony.

1.Pilg.

No question: -- They come.

Here the Ceremony of the Cardinalls enstalment, in the habit a Souldier: perform'd in deliuering up his Crosse, Hat, Robes, and Ring, at the Shrine; and inuesting him with Sword, helmet, Shield, and Spurs: then Antonio, the Duchesse, and their Children, (hauing presented themselues at the Shrine) are (by a forme of Banishment in dumbe-shew, expressed towards them by the Cardinall, and the State of Ancona) banished: During all which Ceremony, this Ditty is sung (to very sollemne Musique) by diuers Church-men; and then Exeunt.

[P55] The Author disclaimes this Ditty to be his.

Armes, and Honors, decke thy story,
To thy Fames eternall glory,
Aduerse Fortune euer flie thee,
No disastrous fate come nigh thee.

I alone will sing thy praises,
Whom to honour, vertue raises;
And thy study, that diuine is,
Bent to Marshiall discipline is:
Lay aside all those robes lie by thee,

Crown thy arts, with armes: they will beautifie thee.
O worthy of worthiest name, adorn'd in this manner,
Lead brauely thy forces on, vnder wars warlike banner:
O mayst thou proue fortunate, in all Marshiall courses,
Guide thou still, by skill, in artes, and forces:
Victory attend thee nigh whilst fame sings loud thy powres,
Triumphant conquest crowne thy head, and blessings prowre downe 
showres.

1.Pilg.

Here is a strange turne of state, who would have thought

So great a Lady, would have match'd her selfe

Vnto so meane a person? yet the Cardinall

Beares himselfe much too cruell.

2.Pilg.

They are banish'd.

1.Pilg.

But I would aske what power hath this state

Of Ancona, to determine of a free Prince?

2.Pilg.

They are a free state sir, and her brother shew'd

How that the Pope fore-bearing of her loosenesse,

Hath seaz'd into the protection of the Church

The Dukedome, which she held as dowager.

1.Pilg.

But by what iustice?

2.Pilg.

Sure I thinke by none,

Only her brothers instigation.

1.Pilg.

What was it, with such violence he tooke

Off from her finger?

2.Pilg.

It was her wedding ring,[P56]

Which he vow'd shortly he would sacrifice

To his reuenge.

1.Pilg.

Alasse Antonio,

If that a man be thrust into a well,

No matter who sets hand to it, his owne weight

Will bring him sooner to the bottome: Come, let us hence.

Fortune makes this conclusion generall,

All things do helpe the unhappy man to fall.

Exeunt.

SCENA V.

Antonio, Duchesse, Children, Cariola, Seruants, Bosola, Souldiers, with Vizards.

Duch.

Banish'd Ancona?

Ant.

Yes, you see what powre

Lightens in great mens breath.

Duch.

Is all our traine

Shrunke to this poore remainder?

Ant.

These poore men,

(Which have got little in your seruice) vow

To take your fortune: But your wiser buntings

Now they are fledg'd are gon.

Duch.

They have done wisely,

This puts me in minde of death, Physitians thus,

With their hands full of money, vse to giue ore

Their Patients.

Ant.

Right the fashion of the world,

From decaide fortunes, euery flatterer shrinkes,

Men cease to build, where the foundation sinkes.

Duch.

I had a very strange dreame to night.

Ant.

What was it?

Duch.

Me thought I wore my Coronet of State

And on a sudaine all the Diamonds

Were chang'd to Pearles.

Ant.

My Interpretation

Is, you will weepe shortly, for to me, the pearles[P57]

Do signifie your teares:

Duch.

The Birds, that liue in the field

On the wilde benefit of Nature, liue

Happier then we; for they may choose their Mates,

And carroll their sweet pleasures to the Spring:

Bos.

You are happily ore-ta'ne.

Duch.

From my brother?

Bos.

Yes, from the Lord Ferdinand; your brother,

All loue, and safetie.

Duch.

Thou do'st blanch mischiefe

Wouldst make it white: See, see; like the calme weather

At Sea, before a tempest, false hearts speake faire

To those they intend most mischiefe.

A Letter.

Send Antonio to me; I want his head in a busines:

Duch.

(a politicke equiuocation)

He doth not want your councell, but your head;

That is, he cannot sleepe till you be dead.

And here is another Pitfall, that is strew'd ore

With Roses: marke it, it is a cunning one.

I stand ingaged for your husband, for seuerall debts at Naples: let not That trouble him, I had rather have his heart, than his mony.

Duch.

And I beleeue so too.

Bos.

What do you beleeue?

Duch.

That he so much distrusts my husbands loue,

He will by no meanes beleeue his heart is with him

Vntill he see it: The Diuell is not cunning enough

To circumuent us in Ridles.

Bos.

Will you reiect that noble, and free league

Of amitie, and loue which I present you?

Duch.

Their league is like that of some politick Kings

Onely to make themselues of strength, and powre

To be our after-ruine: tell them so;

Bos.

And what from you?

Ant.

Thus tell him: I will not come.

Bos.

And what of this.

Ant.

My brothers have dispers'd

Blood-hounds abroad; which till I heare are muzell'd

No truce, though hatch'd with nere such politick skill

Is safe, that hangs upon our enemies will.[P58]

I will not come at them.

Bos.

This proclaimes your breeding.

Euery finall thing, drawes a base mind to feare;

As the Adamant drawes yron: fare you well sir,

You shall shortly eare from us.

Exit.

Duch.

I suspect some Ambush:

Therefore by all my loue; I do coniure you

To take your eldest sonne, and flye towards Millaine;

Let us not venture all this poore remainder

In one vnlucky bottom.

Ant.

You councell safely:

Best of my life, farewell: Since we must part

Heauen hath a hand in it: but no otherwise,

Then as some curious Artist, takes in sunder

A Clocke, or Watch, when it is out of frame

To bring it in better order.

Duch.

I know not which is best,

To see you dead, or part with you: Farewell Boy,

Thou art happy, that thou hast not vnderstanding

To know thy misery: For all our wit

And reading, brings us to a truer sence

Of sorrow: In the eternall Church, Sir,

I do hope we shall not part thus.

Ant.

O, be of comfort,

Make Patience a noble fortitude:

And thinke not how vnkindly we are vs'de:

Man (like to Cassia) is prou'd best, being bruiz'd.

Duch.

Must I like to a slaue-borne Russian,

Account it praise to suffer tyranny?

And yet (O Heauen) thy heauy hand is in it.

I have seene my little boy, oft scourge his top,

And compar'd my selfe to it: naught made me ere go right,

But Heauens scourge-sticke.

Ant.

Do not weepe:

Heauen fashion'd us of nothing; and we striue,

To bring our selues to nothing: farewell Cariola,

And thy sweet armefull; if I do neuer see thee more,[P59]

Be a good Mother to your litle ones,

And saue them from the Tiger: fare you well.

Duch.

Let me looke upon you once more: for that speech

Came from a dying father: your kisse is colder

Then that I have seene an holy Anchorite

Giue to a dead mans skull.

Ant.

My heart is turnde to a heauy lumpe of lead

With which I found my danger: fare you well.

Exit.

Duch.

My Laurell is all withered.

Cariola.

Looke (Madam) what a troope of armed men

Make towards us.

Enter Bosola with a Guard.

Duch.

O, they are very welcome:

When Fortunes, wheele, is ouer-charg'd with Princes,

The waight makes it moue swift. I would have my ruine

Be sudden: I am your aduenture, am I not.

Bos.

You are, you must see your husband no more,

Duch.

What Diuell art thou, that counterfeits heauens thunder?

Bos.

Is that terrible? I would have you tell me

Whether is that note worse, that frights the silly birds

Out of the corne or that which doth allure them

To the nets? you have hearkned to the last too much.

Duch.

O misery: like to a rusty ore-char'd Cannon,

Shall I neuer flye in peeces? come: to what Prison?

Bos.

To none.

Duch.

Whether then?

Bos.

To your Pallace.

Duch.

I have heard that Charons boate, serues to conuay

All ore the dismall Lake, but brings none backe againe.

Bos.

Your brothers meane you, safety, and pitie.

Duch.

Pitie? with such a pitie men preserue aliue

Pheasants, and Quailes, when they are not fat enough

To be eaten.

Bos.

These are your children?

Duch.

Yes:

Bos.

Can they pratle?

Duch.

No:

But I intend, since they were borne accurs'd;[P60]

Cursses shall be their first language.

Bos.

Fye (Madam)

Forget this base, low-fellow.

Duch.

Were I a man:

I would beat that counterfeit face, into thy other

Bos.

One of no Birth.

Duch.

Say that he was borne meane.

Man is most happy, when his owne actions

Be arguments, and examples of his Vertue.

Bos.

A barren, beggerly vertue.

Duch.

I pre-thee who is greatest, can you tell?

Sad tales befit my woe: I will tell you one.

A Salmon, as she swam vnto the Sea,

Met with a Dog-fish; who encounters her

With this rough language: why art thou so bold

To mixe thy selfe with our high state of floods

Being no eminent Courtier, but one

That for the calmest, and fresh time of the yeere

Do'st liue in shallow Riuers, rank'st thy selfe

With silly Smylts, and Shrympes? and darest thou

Passe by our Dog-ship, without reuerence?

O (Quoth the Salmon) sister, be at peace:

Thanke Iupiter, we both have pass'd the Net,

Our value neuer can be truely knowne,

Till in the Fishers basket we be showne,

In the Market then my price may be the higher,

Euen when I am neerest to the Cooke, and fire.

So, to great men, the Morrall may be stretched.

Men oft are valued high, when they are most wretch'd.

But come: whether you please: I am arm'd 'gainst misery:

Bent to all swaies of the Oppressors will.

There is no deepe Valley, but neere some great Hill.

Ex.

[P61]

ACTVS IIII.

SCENA. I.

Ferdinand, Bosola, Dutchesse, Cariola, Seruants.

Ferd.

How doth our sister Dutchesse beare her selfe

In her imprisonment?

Bos.

Nobly: I will describe her:

She is sad, as one long vs'd to it: and she seemes

Rather to welcome the end of misery

Then shun it: a behauiour so noble,

As giues a maiestie to aduersitie:

You may discerne the shape of louelinesse.

More perfect, in her teares, then in her smiles;

She will muse foure houres together: and her silence,

(Me thinkes) expresseth more, then if she spake.

Ferd.

Her mellancholly seemes to be fortifide

With a strange disdaine.

Bos.

It is so: and this restraint

(Like English Mastiffes, that grow feirce with tying)

Makes her too passionately apprehend

Those pleasures she is kept from.

Ferd.

Curse upon her:

I will no longer study in the booke

Of anothers heart: informe her what I told you.

Exit.

Bos.

All comfort to your Grace;

Duch.

I will have none:

'Pray-thee, who do'st thou wrap thy poysond Pilles

In Gold, and Sugar?

Bos.

Your elder brother the Lord Ferdinand

Is come to visite you: and sends you word

'Cause once he rashly made a solemne vowe

Neuer to see you more; he comes in the night:

And prayes you (gently) neither Torch, nor Taper

Shine in your Chamber: he will kisse your hand:

And reconcile himselfe: but, for his vowe,[P62]

He dares not see you:

Duch.

At his pleasure:

Take hence the lights: he has come.

Ferd.

Where are you?

Duch.

Here sir:

Ferd.

This darkenes suites you well.

Duch.

I would aske you pardon:

Ferd.

You have it;

For I account it, the honorabl'st reuenge

Where I may kill, to pardon: where are your Cubbs?

Duch.

Whom?

Ferd.

Call them your children;

For though our nationall law, distinguish Bastards

From true legitimate issue: compassionate nature

Makes them all equall.

Duch.

Do you visit me for this?

You violate a Sacrament of the Church

Shall make you howle in the hell for it.

Ferd.

It had been well,

Could you have liu'd thus alwayes: for indeed

You were too much in the light: But no more,

I come to seale my peace with you: here is a hand,

giues her a dead mans hand.

Ferd.

To which you have vow'd much loue: the Ring upon it

You gaue.

Duch.

I affectionately kisse it:

Ferd.

'Pray do: and bury the print of it in your heart:

I will leaue this Ring with you, for a Loue-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'de it: you shall see

Whether he can ayd you.

Duch.

You are very cold.

I feare you are not well after your trauell:

Hah? lights: o horrible:

Ferd.

Let her have lights enough

Exit.

Duch.

What witch-craft doth he practise, that he hath left

A dead-mans hand here? --

Here is discouer'd, (behind a Trauers;) the artificiall figures of Antonio, and his children; appearing as if they were dead.

[P63]

Bos.

Looke you: here is the peece, from which it was ta'ne;

He doth present you this sad spectacle,

That now you know directly they are dead,

Here after you may (wisely) cease to grieue

For that which cannot be recouered.

Duch.

There is not betweene heauen, and earth one wish

I stay for after this: it wastes me more,

Then were it my picture, fashion'd out of wax,

Strucke with a magicall needle, and then burned

In some fowle dung-hill: and yond is an excellent property

For a tyrant, which I would account mercy,

Bos.

What is that?

Duch.

If they would bring me to that liueles truncke,

And let me freeze to death.

Bos.

Come, you must liue.

Duch.

That is the greatest torture soules feele in hell,

In hell: that they must liue, and cannot die:

Portia, I will new kindle thy Coales againe,

And reuiue the rare, and almost dead example

Of a louing wife.

Bos.

O fye: despaire? remember

You are a Christian.

Duch.

The Church enioynes fasting:

I will starue my selfe to death.

Bos.

Leaue this vaine sorrow;

Things being at the worst, begin to mend:

The Bee when he hath shot his sting into your hand

May then play with your eye-lyd.

Duch.

Good comfortable fellow

Perswade a wretch that is broke upon the wheele

To have all his bones new set: entreate him liue,

To be executed againe: who must dispatch me?

I account this world a tedious Theatre,

For I do play a part in it 'gainst my will.

Bos.

Come, be of comfort, I will saue your life.

Duch.

Indeed I have not leysure to tend so small a busines,

Bos.

Now, by my life, I pitty you.[P64]

Duch.

Thou art a foole then,

To wast thy pitty on a thing so wretch'd

As cannot pitty it: I am full of daggers:

Puffe: let me blow these vipers from me.

What are you?

Ser.

One that wishes you long life.

Duch.

I would thou wert hang'd for the horrible curse

Thou hast giuen me: I shall shortly grow one

Of the miracles of pitty: I will goe pray: No,

I will goe curse:

Bos.

O fye:

Duch.

I could curse the Starres.

Bos.

O fearefull:

Duch.

And those three smyling seasons of the yeere

Into a Russian winter: nay the world

To its first Chaos.

Bos.

Looke you, the Starres shine still:

Duch.

O, but you must remember, my curse hath a great way to goe:

Plagues, (that make lanes through largest families)

Consume them:

Bos.

Fye Lady:

Duch.

Let them like tyrants

Neuer be remembred, but for the ill they have done:

Let all the zealous prayers of mortefied

Church-men forget them,

Bos.

O vncharitable:

Duch.

Let heauen, a little while, cease crowning Martirs

To punish them: Goe, howle them this: and say I long to bleed

It is some mercy, when men kill with speed.

Exit.

Ferd.

Excellent; as I would wish: she is plagu'd in Art.

These presentations are but fram'd in wax.

By the curious Master in that Qualitie,

Vincentio Lauriola, and she takes them

For true substantiall Bodies.

Bos.

Why do you do this?

Ferd.

To bring her to despaire.

Bos.

'Faith, end here:[P65]

And go no farther in your cruelty,

Send her a penetentiall garment, to put on,

Next to her delicate skinne, and furnish her

With beades, and prayer bookes.

Ferd.

Damne her, that body of hers,

While that my blood ran pure in it, was more worth

Then, that which thou wouldst comfort, (call'd a soule)

I will send her masques of common Curtizans,

Have her meate seru'd up by baudes, and ruffians,

And ('cause she will needes be mad) I am resolu'd

To remoue forth the common Hospitall,

All the mad-folke, and place them neere her lodging:

There let them practise together, sing, and daunce,

And act their gambols to the full of the moone:

If she can sleepe the better for it, let her,

Your worke is almost ended.

Bos.

Must I see her againe?

Ferd.

Yes.

Bos.

Neuer.

Ferd.

You must.

Bos.

Neuer in mine owne shape,

That is forfeited, by my intelligence,

And this last cruell lie: when you send me next,

The businesse shall be comfort.

Ferd.

Very likely,

Thy pity is nothing of kin to thee: Antonio,

Lurkes about Millaine, thou shalt shortly thither,

To feede a fire, as great as my reuenge,

Which neuer will slacke, till it have spent his fuell,

Intemperate ague, make Physitians cruell.

Exeunt.

SCENA II.

Duchesse, Cariola, Seruants, Mad-men, Bosola, Executioners, Ferdinand.

Duch.

What hideous noyse was that?

Cari.

It is the wild consort[P66]

Of Mad-men (Lady) which your Tyrant brother

Hath plac'd about your lodging: This tyranny,

I thinke was neuer practis'd till this howre.

Duch.

Indeed I thanke him: nothing but noyce, and folly

Can keepe me in my right wits, whereas reason

And silence, make me starke mad: Sit downe,

Discourse to me some dismall Tragedy.

Cari.

O it will encrease your mellancholly.

Duch.

Thou art deceiu'd,

To heare of greater griefe, would lessen mine,

This is a prison?

Cari.

Yes, but you shall liue

To shake this durance off.

Duch.

Thou art a foole,

The Robin red-brest, and the Nightingale,

Neuer liue long in cages.

Cari.

Pray drie your eyes.

What thinke you of Madam?

Duch.

Of nothing:

When I muse thus, I sleepe.

Cari.

Like a mad-man, with your eyes open?

Duch.

Do'st thou thinke we shall know one an other,

In the other world?

Cari.

Yes, out of question.

Duch.

O that it were possible we might

But hold some two dayes conference with the dead,

From them, I should learne somewhat, I am sure

I neuer shall know here: I will tell thee a miracle,

I am not mad yet, to my cause of sorrow.

The heauen ore my head seemes made of molton brasse,

The earth of flaming sulphure, yet I am not mad:

I am acquainted with sad misery,

As the tan'd galley-slaue is with his Oare,

Necessity makes me suffer constantly,

And custome makes it easie, who do I looke like now?

Cari.

Like to your picture in the gallery,

A deale of life in shew, but none in practise:

Or rather like some reuerend monument,

Whose ruines, are euen pittied.

Duch.

Very proper:

And Fortune seemes onely to have her eie-sight,

To behold my Tragedy: How now,

What noyce is that?

Seruant.

I am come to tell you,[P67]

Your brother hath entended you some sport:

A great Physitian, when the Pope was sicke

Of a deepe mellancholly, presented him

With seuerall sorts of mad-men, which wilde obiect

(Being full of change and sport,) forc'd him to laugh,

And so the impost-hume broke: the selfe same cure,

The Duke intends on you.

Duch.

Let them come in.

Ser.

There is a mad Lawyer, and a secular Priest,

A Doctor that hath forfeited his wits

By iealousie: an Astrologian,

That in his workes, sayd such a day of the moneth,

Should be the day of doome; and fayling of it,

Ran mad: an English Taylor, crais'd in the braine,

With the studdy of new fashion: a gentleman vsher

Quite beside himselfe, with care to keepe in minde,

The number of his Ladies salutations;

Or how do you, she employ'd him in each morning:

A Farmer too, (an excellent knaue in graine)

Mad, 'cause he was hindred transportation,

And let one Broaker, (that is mad) loose to these,

You would thinke the diuell were among them.

Duch.

Sit Cariola: let them loose when you please,

For I am chain'd to endure all your tyranny.

Here (by a Mad-man) this song is sung, to a dismall kind of Musique.

O let us howle, some heauy note,
some deadly-dogged howle,
Sounding, as from the threatning throat,
of beastes, and fatall fowle.
As Rauens, Schrich-owles, Bulls, and Beares,
we will bill, and bawle our parts,
Till yerk-some noyce have cloy'd your eares,
and corasiu'd your hearts.[P68]
At last when as our quire wants breath,
our bodies being blest,
We will sing like Swans, to welcome death,
and die in loue and rest.

1.Mad-man.

Doomes-day not come yet? I will draw it neerer by perspectiue, or to make a glasse, that shall set all the world on fire upon an instant: I cannot sleepe, my pillow is stuff't with a littour of Porcupines.

2.Mad.

Hell is a meere glasse-house, where the diuells are continually blowing up womens soules, on hollow yrons, and the fire neuer goes out.

3.Mad.

I will lie with euery woman in my parish the tenth night:

I will tithe them ouer, like hay-cockes.

4.Mad.

Shall my Pothecary out-go me, because I am a

Cuck-old? I have found out his roguery: he makes allom

Of his wiues vrin, and sells it to Puritaines, that have sore

Throates with ouer-strayning.

1.Mad.

I have skill in Harroldry.

Hast?

You do giue for your creast, a wood-cockes head, with the

Braines pickt out of it, you are a very ancient Gentleman.

Greeke is turn'd Turke, we are only to be sau'd by the

Heluetian translation.

Come on Sir, I will lay the law to you.

Oh, rather lay a coraziue, the law will eate to the bone.

He that drinkes but to satisfie nature is damn'd.

If I had my glasse here, I would shew a sight should make

All the women here, call me mad Doctor.

What is he, a rope-maker?

No, no, no, a snufling knaue, that while he shewes the

Tombes, will have his hand in a wenches placket.

Woe, to the Caroach, that brought home my wife from

The Masque, at three a clocke in the morning, it had a large

Feather-bed in it.

I have paired the diuells nayles forty times, roasted them

In Rauens egges, and cur'd agues with them.[P69]

Get me three hundred milch bats, to make possets,

To procure sleepe.

All the Colledge may throw their caps at me, I have made a

Soape-boyler costiue, it was my master-peece: --

Here the Daunce consisting of 8 Mad-men, with musicke answerable there-unto, after which, Bosola (like an old man) enters.

Duch.

Is he mad too?

Ser.

'Pray question him: I will leaue you.

Bos.

I am come to make thy tombe.

Duch.

Hah, my tombe?

Thou speak'st, as if I lay upon my death bed,

Gasping for breath: do'st thou perceiue me sicke?

Bos.

Yes, and the more dangerously, since thy sicknesse is insensible.

Duch.

Thou art not mad sure, do'st know me?

Bos.

Yes.

Duch.

Who am I?

Bos.

Thou art a box of worme-seede, at best, but a saluatory
Of greene mummey: what is this flesh? a little cruded milke,
Phantasticall puffe-paste: our bodies are weaker then those
Paper prisons boyes vse to keep flies in: more contemptible:
Since ours is to preserue earth-wormes: didst thou euer see
A Larke in a cage? such is the soule in the body: this world
Is like her little turfe of grasse, and the Heauen ore our heades,
Like her looking glasse, ouerly giues us a miserable knowledge
Of the small compasse of our prison.

Duch.

Am not I, thy Duchesse?

Bos.

Thou art some great woman sure, for riot begins to sit on thy
Fore-head (clad in gray haires) twenty yeares sooner, then on a
Merry milkemaydes. Thou sleep'st worse, then if a mouse
Should be forc'd to take up her lodging in a cats eare:
A little infant, that breedes its teeth, should it lie with thee, would
Crie out, as if thou wert the more vnquiet bed-fellow.

Duch.

I am Duchesse of Malfy still.

Bos.

That makes thy sleepes so broken:

Glories (like glowe-wormes) a farre off, shine bright,

But look'd to neere, have neither heate, nor light.

Duch.

Thou art very plaine.

Bos.

My trade is to flatter the dead, not the liuing

I am a tombe-maker.[P70]

Duch.

And thou com'st to make my tombe?

Bos.

Yes.

Duch.

Let me be a little merry,

Of what stuffe wilt thou make it?

Bos.

Nay, resolue me first, of what fashion?

Duch.

Why, do we grow phantasticall in our death-bed?

Do we affect fashion in the graue?

Bos.

Most ambitiously: Princes images on their tombes,

Do not lie, as they were wont, seeming to pray,

Up to heauen: but with their hands vnder their cheekes,

(As if they died of the tooth-ache) they are not carued

With their eies, fix'd upon the starres; but as their

Mindes were wholy bent upon the world,

The self-same way they seeme to turne their faces.

Duch.

Let me know fully therefore the effect

Of this thy dismall preparation,

This talke, fit for a charnell?

Bos.

Now, I shall,

A Coffin, Cords, and a Bell.

Bos.

Here is a present from your Princely brothers,

And may it arriue wel-come, for it brings

Last benefit, last sorrow.

Duch.

Let me see it,

I have so much obedience, in my blood,

I wish it in their veines, to do them good.

Bos.

This is your last presence Chamber.

Cari.

O my sweete Lady.

Duch.

Peace, it affrights not me.

Bos.

I am the common Bell-man,

That vsually is sent to condemn'd persons

The night before they suffer:

Duch.

Euen now thou said'st,

Thou wast a tombe-maker?

Bos.

It was to bring you

By degrees to mortification: Listen.

Hearke, now euery thing is still,
The Schritch-Owle, and the whistler shrill,
Call upon our Dame, aloud,
And bid her quickly don her shrowd:[P71]
Much you had of Land and rent,
Your length in clay is now competent.
A long war, disturb'd your minde,
Here your perfect peace is sign'd,
Of what is it, fooles make such vaine keeping?
Sin their conception, their birth, weeping:
Their life, a generall mist of error,
Their death, a hideous storme of terror,
Strew your haire, with powders sweete:
D'on cleane linnen, bath your feete,
And the foule feend more to checke)
A crucifixe let blesse your necke,
It is now full tide, 'tweene night and day,
End your groane, and come away.

Cari.

Hence villaines, tyrants, murderers: alas!

What will you do with my Lady? call for helpe.

Duch.

To whom, to our next neighbours? they are mad-folkes.

Bos.

Remooue that noyse.

Duch.

Farwell Cariola,

In my last will, I have not much to giue

A many hungry guests, have fed upon me,

Thine will be a poore reuersion.

Cari.

I will die with her.

Duch.

I pray-thee looke thou giu'st my little boy

Some sirrop, for his cold, and let the girle

Say her prayers, ere she sleepe. Now what you please,

What death?

Bos.

Strangling, here are your Executioners.

Duch.

I forgiue them:

The apoplexie, cathar, or cough of the loongs,

Would do as much as they do.

Bos.

Doth not death fright you?

Duch.

Who would be afraid of it?

Knowing to meete such excellent company

In the other world.

Bos.

Yet, me thinkes,

The manner of your death should much afflict you,[P72]

This cord should terrifie you?

Duch.

Not a whit,

What would it pleasure me, to have my throate cut

With diamonds? or to be smothered

With Cassia? or to be shot to death, with pearles?

I know death hath ten thousand seuerall doores

For men, to take their Exits: and it is found

They go on such strange geometricall hinges,

You may open them both wayes: any way, (for heauen sake)

So I were out of your whispering: Tell my brothers,

That I perceiue death, (now I am well a wake)

Best guift is, they can giue, or I can take,

I would faine put off my last womans-fault,

I'l'd not be tedious to you.

Exec.

We are ready.

Duch.

Dispose my breath, how please you but my body

Bestow upon my women, will you?

Exec.

Yes.

Duch.

Pull, and pull strongly, for your able strength,

Must pull downe heauen upon me:

Yet stay, heauen gates are not so highly arch'd

As Princes pallaces, they that enter there

Must go upon their knees: Come violent death,

Serue for Mandragora, to make me sleepe;

Go tell my brothers, when I am laid out,

They then may feede in quiet.

They strangle her.

Bos.

Where is the waiting woman?

Fetch her: Some other strangle the children:

Looke you, there sleepes your mistris.

Cari.

O you are damn'd

Perpetually for this: My turne is next,

Is it not so ordered?

Bos.

Yes, and I am glad

You are so well prepar'd for it.

Cari.

You are deceiu'd Sir,

I am not prepar'd for it, I will not die,

I will first come to my answere; and know

How I have offended.

Bos.

Come, dispatch her:

You kept her counsell, now you shall keepe ours.

Cari.

I will not die, I must not, I am contracted[P73]

To a young Gentle-man.

Exec.

Here is your wedding Ring.

Cari.

Let me but speake with the Duke: I will discouer

Treason to his person.

Bos.

Delayes: throttle her.

Exec.

She bites: and scratches:

Cari.

If you kill me now

I am damn'd: I have not been at Confession

This two yeeres:

Bos.

When.

Cari.

I am quicke with child.

Bos.

Why then,

Your credit is sau'd: beare her in to the next roome:

Let this lie still.

Ferd.

Is she dead?

Bos.

She is what

You would have her: But here begin your pitty,

Shewes the children strangled.

Bos.

Alas, how have these offended?

Ferd.

The death

Of young Wolffes, is neuer to be pittied.

Bos.

Fix your eye here:

Ferd.

Constantly.

Bos.

Do you not weepe?

Other sinnes, onely speake; Murther shreikes out:

The Element of water, moistens the Earth,

But blood flies upwards, and bedewes the Heauens.

Ferd.

Couer her face: Mine eyes dazell; she di'd yong.

Bos.

I thinke not so: her infelicitie

Seem'd to have yeeres too many.

Ferd.

She, and I were Twinnes:

And should I die this instant, I had liu'd

Her Time to a Mynute.

Bos.

It seemes she was borne first:

You have bloodely approu'd the auncient truth,

That kindred commonly do worse agree

Then remote strangers.

Ferd.

Let me see her face againe;

Why didst not thou pitty her: what an excellent

Honest man, might'st thou have been

If thou hadst borne her to some Sanctuary?[P74]

Or (bold in a good cause) oppos'd thy selfe

With thy aduanced sword aboue thy head,

Betweene her Innocence, and my Reuenge?

I bad thee, when I was distracted of my wits,

Goe kill my dearest friend, and thou hast don it.

For let me but examine well the cause;

What was the meanenes of her match to me?

Onely I must confesse, I had a hope

(Had she continu'd widow) to have gain'd

An infinite masse of Treasure by her death:

And that was the mayne cause; her Marriage,

That drew a streame of gall, quite through my heart;

For thee, (as we obserue in Tragedies

That a good Actor many times is curss'd

For playing a villaines part) I hate thee for it:

And (for my sake) say thou hast done much ill, well:

Bos.

Let me quicken your memory; for I perceiue

You are falling into ingratitude: I challenge

The reward due to my seruice.

Ferd.

I will tell thee,

What I will giue thee,

Bos.

Do:

Ferd.

I will giue thee a pardon

For this murther:

Bos.

Hah?

Ferd.

Yes: and it is

The largest bounty I can studie to do thee.

By what authority did'st thou execute

This bloody sentence?

Bos.

By yours

Ferd.

Mine? was I her Iudge?

Did any ceremoniall forme of Law,

Doombe her to not-Being? did a compleat Iury

Deliuer her conviction up in the Court?

Where shalt thou find this Iudgement registerd

Vnlesse in hell? See: like a bloody foole

Thou hast forfeyted thy life, and thou shalt die for it.

Bos.

The Office of Iustice is peruerted quite

When one Thiefe hangs another: who shall dare

To reueale this:

Ferd.

O, I will tell thee:[P75]

The Wolfe shall finde her Graue, and scrap: it up:

Not to deuoure the corpes, but to discouer

The horrid murther.

Bos.

You; not I shall quake for it.

Ferd.

Leaue me:

Bos.

I will first receiue my Pention.

Ferd.

You are a villaine:

Bos.

When your Ingratitude

Is Iudge, I am so;

Ferd.

O horror!

That not the feare of him, which bindes the diuels

Can prescribe man obedience.

Neuer looke upon me more.

Bos.

Why fare thee well:

Your brother, and your selfe, are worthy men;

You have a paire of hearts, are hollow Graues,

Rotten, and rotting others: and your vengeance,

(Like two-chain'd bullets) still goes arme in arme,

You may be Brothers: for treason, like the plague,

Doth take much in a blood: I stand like one

That long hath ta'ne a sweet, and golden dreame.

I am angry with my selfe, now that I wake.

Ferd.

Get thee into some vnknowne part of the world

That I may neuer see thee.

Bos.

Let me know

Wherefore I should be thus neglected? sir,

I seru'd your tyranny: and rather stroue,

To satisfie your selfe, then all the world;

And though I loath'd the euill, yet I lou'd

You that did councell it: and rather sought

To appeare a true seruant, then an honest man.

Ferd.

I will goe hunt the Badger, by Owle-light:

It is a deed of darkenesse.

Exit.

Bos.

He is much distracted: Off my painted honour,

While with valne hopes, our faculties we tyre,

We seeme to sweate in yce, and freeze in fire;

What would I do, were this to do againe?

I would not change my peace of conscience

For all the wealth of Europe: She stirres; here is life:

Returne (faire soule) from the darkenes, and lead mine

Out of this sencible Hell: She is warme, she breathes:[P76]

Upon thy pale lips I will melt my heart

To store them with fresh colour: who is there?

Some cordiall drinke: Alas! I dare not call:

So pitty, would destroy pitty: her Eye opes,

And heauen in it, seemes to ope, (that late was shut)

To take me up to mercy.

Duch.

Antonio.

Bos.

Yes (Madam) he is liuing,

The dead bodies you saw, were but faign'd statues;

He is reconcil'd to your brothers: the Pope hath wrought

The attonement.

Duch.

Mercy.

she dies,

Bos.

O, she is gone againe: there the cords of life broake:

O sacred Innocence, that sweetely sleepes

On Turtles feathers: whil'st a guilty conscience

Is a blacke Register, wherein is writ

All our good deedes, and bad: a Perspectiue

That showes us hell; that we cannot be suffer'd

To do good when we have a mind to it?

This is manly sorrow:

These teares, I am very certaine, neuer grew

In my Mothers Milke. My estate is suncke

Below the degree of feare: where were

These penitent fountaines, while she was liuing?

O, they were frozen up: here is a sight

As direfull to my soule, as is the sword

Vnto a wretch hath slaine his father: Come, I will beare thee hence.

And execute thy last will; that is deliuer

Thy body to the reuerent dispose

Of some good women: that the cruell tyrant

Shall not denie me: Then I will poast to Millaine,

Where somewhat I will speedily enact

Worth my deiection.

Exit.

[P77]

ACTVS V.

SCENA. I

Antonio, Delio, Pescara, Iulia.

Ant.

What thinke you of my hope of reconcilement

To the Aragonian brethren?

Del.

I misdoubt it

For though they have sent their letters of safe conduct

For your repaire to Millaine, they appeare

But Nets, to entrap you: The Marquis of Pescara,

Vnder whom you hold certaine land in Cheit,

Must 'gainst his noble nature, hath been mou'd

To ceize those lands, and some of his dependants

Are at this instant, making it their suit

To be inuested in your Reuenewes.

I cannot thinke, they meane well to your life,

That do depriue you of your meanes of life,

Your liuing.

Ant.

You are still an heretique.

To any safety, I can shape my selfe.

Del.

Here comes the Marquis: I will make my selfe

Petitioner for some part of your land,

To know whether it is flying.

Ant.

I pray do.

Del.

Sir, I have a suit to you.

Pes.

To me.

Del.

An easie one:

There is the Cittadell of St Bennet,

With some demeasnes, of late in the possession

Of Antonio Bologna, please you bestow them on me?

Pes.

You are my friend: But this is such a suit,

Not fit for me to giue, nor you to take.

Del.

No sir?

Pes.

I will giue you ample reason for it,

Soone in priuate: Here is the Cardinalls Mistris.

Iul.

My Lord, I am growne your poore Petitioner,

And should be an ill begger, had I not

A Great mans letter, here (the Cardinalls)

To Court you in my fauour.[P78]

Pes.

He entreates for you

The Cittadell of Saint Bennet, that belong'd

To the banish'd Bologna.

Iul.

Yes:

Pes.

I could not have thought of a friend, I could

Rather pleasure with it: it is yours:

Iul.

Sir, I thanke you:

And he shall know how doubly I am engag'd

Both in your guift, and speedinesse of giuing,

Which makes your graunt, the greater.

Exit.

Ant.

How they fortefie

Themselues with my ruine?

Del.

Sir: I am

Litle bound to you:

Pes.

Why.

Del.

Because you denide this suit, to me, and gau it

To such a creature.

Pes.

Do you know what it was?

It was Antonios land: not forfeyted

By course of lawe; but rauish'd from his throate

By the Cardinals entreaty: it were not fit

I should bestow so maine a peece of wrong

Upon my friend: it is a gratification

Onely due to a Strumpet: for it is iniustice;

Shall I sprinckle the pure blood of Innocents

To make those followers, I call my friends

Looke ruddier upon me? I am glad

This land, (ta'ne from the owner by such wrong)

Returnes againe vnto so fowle an vse,

As Salary for his Lust. Learne, (good Delio)

To aske noble things of me, and you shall find

I will be a noble giuer.

Del.

You instruct me well:

Ant.

Why, here is a man, now, would fright impudence

From sawciest Beggers.

Pes.

Prince Ferdinand's come to Millaine

Sicke (as they giue out) of an Appoplexie:

But some say, it is a frenzie; I am going

To visite him.

Exit.

Ant.

It is a noble old fellow:

Del.

What course do you meane to take, Antonio?[P79]

Ant.

This night, I meane to venture all my fortune

(Which is no more, then a poore lingring life)

To the Cardinals worst of mallice: I have got

Priuate accesse to his chamber: and intend

To visit him, about the mid of night.

(As once his brother did our noble Dutchesse.)

It may be that the sudden apprehension

Of danger (for I will goe in mine owne shape)

When he shall see it fraight with loue, and dutie,

May draw the poyson out of him, and worke

A friendly reconcilement; if it faile;

Yet, it shall rid me of this infamous calling,

For better fall once, then be euer falling.

Del.

I will second you in all danger: and (how ere)

My life keepes rancke with yours

Ant.

You are still my lou'd and best friend.

Exeunt.

SCENA. II.

Pescara, a Doctor, Ferdinand, Cardinall, Malateste, Bosola, Iulia.

Pes.

Now Doctor; may I visit your Patient?

Doctor.

If it please your Lordship: but he is instantly

To take the ayre here in the Gallery,

By my direction.

Pes.

'Pray-thee, what is his disease?

Doc.

A very pestilent disease (my Lord)

They call Lucanthropia.

Pes.

What is that?

I need a Dictionary to it.

Doc.

I will tell you:

In those that are possess'd with it there ore-flowes

Such mellencholy humour, they imagine

Themselues to be transformed into Woolues,

Steale forth to Church-yards in the dead of night,

And dig dead bodies up: as two nights since

One met the Duke, 'bout midnight in a lane

Behind St Markes Church, with the leg of a man[P80]

Upon his shoulder; and he howl'd fearefully:

Said he was a Woolffe: onely the difference

Was, a Woolffes skinne was hairy on the out-side,

His on the In-side: bad them take their swords,

Rip up his flesh, and trie: straight I was sent for,

And hauing ministerd to him, found his Grace

Very well recouered.

Pes.

I am glad of it.

Doc.

Yet not without some feare

Of a relaps: if he grow to his fit againe

I will goe a neerer way to worke with him

Then euer Paraclesus dream'd of: If

They will giue me leaue I will buffet his madnesse out of him.

Stand aside: he comes.

Ferd.

Leaue me.

Mal.

Why doth your Lordship loue this solitarines?

Ferd.

Eagles commonly fly alone: They are Crowes, Dawes, and

Sterlings that flocke together: Looke, what is that,

Followes me?

Mal.

Nothing (my Lord)

Ferd.

Yes:

Mal.

It is your shadow.

Ferd.

Stay it, let it not haunt me.

Mal.

Impossible; if you moue, and the Sunshine:

Ferd.

I will throtle it.

Mal.

O, my Lord: you are angry with nothing.

Ferd.

You are a foole:

How is it possible I should catch my shadow

Vnlesse I fall upon it? When I goe to Hell,

I meane to carry a bribe: for looke you

Good guifts euer-more make way, for the worst persons.

Pes.

Rise good my Lord.

Ferd.

I am studying the Art of Patience.

Pes.

It is a noble Vertue;

Ferd.

To driue six Snailes before me, from this towne

To Mosco; neither vse Goad, nor Whip to them,

But let them take their owne time: (the patientst man in the world

Match me for an experiment) and I will crawle after

Like a sheepe-biter.

Card.

Force him up.

Ferd.

Vse me well, you were best:

What I have don, I have don: I will confesse nothing[P81]

Doc.

Now let me come to him: Are you mad

(My Lord?) are you out of your Princely wits?

Ferd.

What is he?

Pes.

Your Doctor.

Ferd.

Let me have his beard saw'd off, and his eye

Browes fil'd more ciuill.

Doc.

I must do mad trickes with him,

For that is the onely way of it. I have brought

Your grace a Salamanders skin, to keepe you

From sun-burning.

Ferd.

I have cruell sore eyes.

Doc.

The white of a Cockatrixes-egge is present remedy.

Ferd.

Let it be a new layd one, you were best:

Hide me from him: Phisitians are like Kings,

They brooke no contradiction.

Doc.

Now he begins to feare me,

Now let me alone with him.

Card.

How now, put off your gowne?

Doc.

Let me have some forty vrinalls fill'd with Rose-water:

He, and I will go pelt one an other with them,

Now he begins to feare me: Can you fetch a friske, sir?

Let him go, let him go upon my perrill:

I finde by his eye, he stands in awe of me,

I will make him, as tame as a Dormouse.

Ferd.

Can you fetch your friskes, sir: I will stamp him into a Gullice:

Flea off his skin, to couer one of the Anotomies,

This rogue hath set in the cold yonder, in Barber-Chyrurgeons hall:

Hence, hence, you are all of you, like beasts for sacrifice,

There is nothing left of you, but tongue, and belly,

Flattery, and leachery.

Pes.

Doctor, he did not feare you throughly.

Doc.

True, I was somewhat too forward.

Bos.

Mercy upon me, what a fatall iudgement

Hath falne upon this Ferdinand?

Pes.

Knowes your grace

What accident hath brought vnto the Prince,

This strange distraction?

Card.

I must faigne somewhat: Thus they say it grew,[P82]

You have heard it rumor'd for these many yeares,

None of our family dies, but there is seene

The shape of an old woman, which is giuen

By tradition, to us, to have been murther'd

By her Nephewes, for her riches. Such a figure

One night (as the Prince sat up late at his booke)

Appear'd to him, when crying out for helpe,

The gentlemen of his chamber, found his grace

All on a cold sweate, alter'd much in face

And language: Since which apparition,

He hath growne worse, and worse, and I much feare

He cannot liue.

Bos.

Sir, I would speake with you.

Pes.

We will leaue your grace,

Wishing to the sicke Prince, our noble Lord,

All health of minde, and body.

Card.

You are most welcome:

Are you come? so: this fellow must not know

By any meanes I had intelligence

In our Duchesse death: For (though I counsell'd it,)

The full of all the ingagement seem'd to grow

From Ferdinand: Now sir, how fares our sister?

I do not thinke but sorrow makes her looke

Like to an oft-di'd garment: She shall now

Tast comfort from me: why do you looke so wildely?

O, the fortune of your master here, the Prince

Deiects you, but be you of happy comfort:

If you will do one thing for me, I will entreate

Though he had a cold tombe-stone ore his bones,

I would make you what you would be.

Bos.

Any thing,

Giue it me in a breath, and let me flie to it:

They that thinke long, small expedition win,

For musing much on the end, cannot begin.

Iul.

Sir, will you come in to Supper?

Card.

I am busie, leaue me.

Iul.

What an excellent shape hath that fellow?

Exit Card.

[P83]

Card.

It is thus: Antonio lurkes here in Millaine,

Enquire him out, and kill him: while he liues,

Our sister cannot marry, and I have thought

Of an excellent match for her: do this, and stile me

Thy aduancement.

Bos.

But by what meanes shall I find him out?

Card.

There is a gentleman, call'd Delio

Here in the Campe, that hath been long approu'd

His loyall friend: Set eie upon that fellow,

Follow him to Masse, may be Antonio.

Although he do account religion

But a Schoole-name, for fashion of the world,

May accompany him, or else go enquire out

Delio's Confessor, and see if you can bribe

Him to reueale it: there are a thousand wayes

A man might find to trace him: As to know,

What fellowes haunt the Iewes, for taking up

Great summes of money, for sure he is in want,

Or else to go to the Picture-makers, and learne

Who brought her Picture lately, some of these

Happily may take --

Bos.

Well, I will not freeze in the businesse,

I would see that wretched thing, Antonio

Aboue all sightes in the world.

Card.

Do, and be happy.

Exit.

Bos.

This fellow doth breed Bazalisques in his eies,

He is nothing else, but murder: yet he seemes

Not to have notice of the Duchesse death:

It is his cunning: I must follow his example,

There cannot be a surer way to trace,

Then than of an old Fox.

Iul.

So, sir, you are well met.

Bos.

How now?

Iul.

Nay, the doores are fast enough:

Now Sir, I will make you confesse your treachery.

Bos.

Treachery?

Iul.

Yes, confesse to me

Which of my women it was you hyr'd, to put

Loue-powder into my drinke?[P84]

Bos.

Loue powder?

Iul.

Yes, when I was at Malfy,

Why should I fall in loue with such a face else?

I have already suffer'd for thee so much paine,

The onely remedy to do me good,

Is to kill my longing.

Bos.

Sure your Pistoll holds

Nothing but perfumes, or kissing comfits: excellent Lady,

You have a pritty way of it to discouer

Your longing: Come, come, I will disarme you,

And arme you thus, yet this is wondrous strange.

Iul.

Compare thy forme, and my eyes together,

You will find my loue no such great miracle: Now you will 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 souldier.

Iul.

The better,

Sure, there wants fire, where there are no liuely sparkes

Of roughnes.

Bos.

And I want complement.

Iul.

Why ignorance in court-ship cannot make you do amisse,

If you have a heart to do well.

Bos.

You are very faire.

Iul.

Nay, if you lay beauty to my charge,

I must plead vnguilty.

Bos.

Your bright eyes

Carry a Quiuer of darts in them, sharper

Then Sun-beames.

Iul.

You will mar me with commendation,

Put your selfe to the charge of courting me,

Whereas now I woe you.

Bos.

I have it, I will worke upon this Creature,

Let us grow most amorously familiar:

If the great Cardinall now should see me thus,

Would he not count me a villaine?

Iul.

No, he might count me a wanton,

Not lay a scruple of offence on you:

For if I see, and steale a Diamond,

The fault is not in the stone, but in me the thiefe,[P85]

That purloines it: I am sudaine with you,

We that are great women of pleasure, vse to cut off

These vncertaine wishes, and vnquiet longings,

And in an instant ioyne the sweete delight

And the pritty excuse together: had you been in the streete,

Vnder my chamber window, euen there

I should have courted you.

Bos.

O, you are an excellent Lady.

Iul.

Bid me do somewhat for you presently,

To expresse I loue you.

Bos.

I will, and if you loue me,

Faile not to effect it: The Cardinall is growne wondrous mellancholly,

Demand the cause, let him not put you off,

With faign'd excuse, discouer the maine ground of it.

Iul.

Why would you know this?

Bos.

I have depended on him,

And I heare that he is falne in some disgrace

With the Emperour, if he be, like the mice

That forsake falling houses, I would shift

To other dependance.

Iul.

You shall not neede follow the warres,

I will be your maintenance.

Bos.

And I your loyall seruant,

But I cannot leaue my calling.

Iul.

Not leaue an

Vngratefull Generall, for the loue of a sweete Lady?

You are like some, cannot sleepe in feather-beds,

But must have blockes for their pillowes.

Bos.

Will you do this?

Iul.

Cunningly.

Bos.

To morrow I will expect the intelligence.

Iul.

To morrow? get you into my Cabinet,

You shall have it with you: do not delay me,

No more then I do you: I am like one

That is condemn'd: I have my pardon promis'd.

But I would see it seal'd: Go, get you in,

You shall see me winde my tongue about his heart,

Like a skeine of silke.[P86]

Card.

Where are you?

Seru.

Here.

Card.

Let none upon your liues

Have conference with the Prince Ferdinand,

Vnlesse I know it: In this distraction

He may reueale the murther:

Yond is my lingring consumption:

I am weary of her; and by any meanes

Would be quit off.

Iul.

How now, my Lord?

What ailes you?

Card.

Nothing.

Iul.

O, you are much alterd:

Come I must be your Secretary, and remoue

This lead from off your bosome, what is the matter?

Card.

I may not tell you.

Iul.

Are you so farre in loue with sorrow,

You cannot part, with part of it? or thinke you

I cannot loue 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

Vnto your tongue?

Card.

Satisfie thy longing,

The onely way to make thee keepe my councell,

Is not to tell thee.

Iul.

Tell your eccho this,

Or flatterers, that (like ecchoes) still report

What they heare (though most imperfect) and not me:

For, if that you be true vnto your selfe,

I will know.

Card.

Will you racke me?

Iul.

No, iudgement shall

Draw it from you: It is an equall fault,

To tell ones secrets, vnto all, or none.

Card.

The first argues folly.

Iul.

But the last tyranny.

Card.

Very well, why imagine I have committed

Some secret deed, which I desire the world

May neuer heare of?

Iul.

Therefore may not I know it?

You have conceal'd for me, as great a sinne[P87]

As adultery: Sir, neuer was occasion

For perfect triall of my constancy

Till now: Sir, I beseech you.

Card.

You will repent it.

Iul.

Neuer.

Card.

It hurries thee to ruine: I will not tell thee,

Be well aduis'd, and thinke what danger it is

To receiue a Princes secrets: they that do,

Had neede have their breasts hoop'd with adamant

To containe them: I pray thee yet be satisfi'd,

Examine thine owne frailety, it is more easie

To tie knots, then vnloose them: it is a secret

That (like a lingring poyson) may chance lie

Spread in thy vaines, and kill thee seauen yeare hence.

Iul.

Now you dally with me.

Card.

No more, thou shalt know it.

By my appointment, the great Duchesse of Malfy,

And two of her yong children, foure nights since

Were strangled.

Iul.

O heauen! (sir) what have you done?

Card.

How now? how setles this? thinke you your

Bosome will be a graue, darke and obscure enough

For such a secret?

Iul.

You have vndone your selfe (sir.)

Card.

Why?

Iul.

It lies not in me to conceale it.

Card.

No? come, I will sweare you to it upon this booke.

Iul.

Most religiously.

Card.

Kisse it.

Now you shall neuer vtter it, thy curiosity

Hath vndone thee: thou art poyson'd with that booke,

Because I knew thou couldst not keepe my councell,

I have bound thee to it by death.

Bos.

For pitty sake, hold.

Card.

Ha, Bosola!

Iul.

I forgiue you,

This equall peece of Iustice you have done:

For I betraid your councell to that fellow,

He ouer heard it; that was the cause I said

It lay not in me, to conceale it.

Bos.

O foolish woman,[P88]

Couldst not thou have poyson'd him?

Iul.

It is weaknesse,

Too much to thinke what should have been done,

I go, I know not whether.

Card.

Wherefore com'st thou hither?

Bos.

That I might finde a great man, (like your selfe,)

Not out of his wits (as the Lord Ferdinand)

To remember my seruice.

Card.

I will have thee hew'd in peeces.

Bos.

Make not your selfe such a promise of that life

Which is not yours, to dispose of.

Car.

Who plac'd 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 faire marble colours,

Upon your rotten purposes to me?

Vnlesse you imitate some that do plot great Treasons,

And when they have done, go hide themselues in the graues,

Of those were Actors in it?

Card.

No more,

There is a fortune attends thee.

Bos.

Shall I go sue to fortune any longer?

It is the fooles Pilgrimage.

Card.

I have honors in store for thee.

Bos.

There are many wayes that conduct to seeming

Honor, and some of them very durty ones.

Card.

Throw to the diuell

Thy mellancholly, the fire burnes well,

What neede we keepe a stirring of it, and make

A greater smoother? thou wilt kill Antonio?

Bos.

Yes.

Card.

Take up that body.

Bos.

I thinke I shall

Shortly grow the common Beare, for Church-yards?

Card.

I will allow thee some dozen of attendants,

To aide thee in the murther.

Bos.

O, by no meanes,

Phisitians that apply horse-leiches to any rancke swelling,

Vse to cut off their tailes, that the blood may run through them[P89]

The faster: Let me have no traine, when I goe to shed blood,

Least it make me have a greater, when I ride to the Gallowes.

Card.

Come to me after midnight, to helpe to remoue that body

To her owne Lodging: I will giue out she dide of the Plague;

It will breed the lesse enquiry after her death.

Bos.

Where is Castruchio, her husband?

Card.

He is rod to Naples to take possession

Of Antonio's Cittadell.

Bos.

Beleeue me, you have done a very happy turne.

Card.

Faile not to come: There is the Master-key

Of our Lodgings: and by that you may conceiue

What trust I plant in you.

Exit.

Bos.

You shall find me ready.

O poore Antonio, though nothing be so needfull

To thy estate, as pitty, Yet I finde

Nothing so dangerous: I must looke to my footing;

In such slippery yce-pauements, men had neede

To be frost-nayld well: they may breake their neckes else.

The President is here afore me: how this man

Beares up in blood? seemes feareles? why, it is well:

Securitie some men call the Suburbs of Hell,

Onely a dead wall betweene. Well (good Antonio)

I will seeke thee out; and all my care shall be

To put thee into safety from the reach

Of these most cruell biters, that have got

Some of thy blood already. It may be,

I will ioyne with thee, in a most iust reuenge.

The weakest Arme is strong enough, that strikes

With the sword of Iustice: Still me thinkes the Dutchesse

Haunts me: there, there: it is nothing but my mellancholy.

O Penitence, let me truely tast thy Cup.

That throwes men downe, onely to raise them up.

Exit.

[P90]

SCENA. III.

Antonio, Delio, Eccho, (from the Dutchesse Graue.)

Del.

Yond is the Cardinall's window: This fortification

Grew from the ruines of an auncient Abbey:

And to yond side of the riuer, lies a wall

(Peece of a Cloyster) which in my opinion

Giues the best Eccho, that you euer heard;

So hollow, and so dismall, and withall

So plaine in the destinction of our words,

That many have supposde it is a Spirit

That answeres.

Ant.

I do loue these auncient ruynes;

We neuer tread upon them, but we set

Our foote upon some reuerend History,

And questionles, here in this open Court

(Which now lies naked to the iniuries

Of stormy weather) some men lye Enterr'd

Lou'd the Church so well, and gaue so largely to it,

They thought it should have canopide their Bones

'Till Doombes-day: But all things have their end:

Churches, and Citties (which have diseases like to men)

Must have like death that we have.

Eccho.

Like death that we have.

Del.

Now the Eccho hath caught you:

Ant.

It groan'd (me thought) and gaue

A very deadly Accent?

Eccho.

Deadly Accent.

Del.

I told you it was a pretty one: You may make it

A Huntes-man, or a Faulconer, a Musitian,

Or a Thing of Sorrow.

Eccho.

A Thing of Sorrow.

Ant.

Aye sure: that suites it best.

Eccho.

That suites it best.[P91]

Ant.

It is very like my wiues voyce.

Eccho.

Aye, wifes-voyce.

Del.

Come: let's us walke farther from it:

I Would not have you go to the Cardinalls to night:

Do not.

Eccho.

Do not,

Del.

Wisdome doth not more moderate, wasting Sorrow

Then time: take time for it: be mindfull of thy safety.

Eccho.

Be mindfull of thy safety.

Ant.

Necessitie compells me:

Make scruteny throughout the passes

Of your owne life; you will find it impossible

To flye your fate.

Eccho.

O flye your fate.

Del.

Harke: the dead stones seeme to have pitty on you

And giue you good counsell.

Ant.

Eccho, I will not talke with thee;

For thou art a dead Thing.

Eccho.

Thou art a dead Thing.

Ant.

My Dutchesse is asleepe now,

And her litle-Ones, I hope sweetly: o Heauen

Shall I neuer see her more?

Eccho.

Neuer see her more:

Ant.

I mark'd not one repetition of the Eccho

But that: and on the sudden, a cleare light

Presented me a face folded in sorrow.

Del.

Your fancy; meerely.

Ant.

Come: I will be out of this Ague;

For to liue thus, is not indeed to liue:

It is a mockery, and abuse of life,

I will not henceforth saue my selfe by halues,

Loose all, or nothing.

Del.

Your owne vertue saue you:

I will fetch your eldest sonne; and second you:

It may be that the sight of his owne blood

Spred in so sweet a figure, may beget

The more compassion.[P92]

How euer, fare you well:

Though in our miseries, Fortune have a part,

Yet, in our noble suffrings, she hath none,

Contempt of paine, that we may call our owne.

Exe.

SCENA. IIII.

Cardinall, Pescara, Malateste, Rodorigo, Gisolan, Bosola, Ferdinand, Antonio, Seruant.

Card.

You shall not watch to night by the sicke Prince,

His Grace is very well recouer'd.

Mal.

Good my Lord suffer us.

Card.

O, by no meanes:

The noyce, and change of obiect in his eye,

Doth more distract him: I pray, all to bed,

And though you heare him in his violent fit,

Do not rise, I intreate you.

Pes.

So sir, we shall not,

Card.

Nay, I must have you promise

Upon your honors, for I was enioyn'd to it

By himselfe; and he seem'd to vrge it sencibly.

Pes.

Let our honors bind this trifle.

Card.

Nor any of your followers.

Mal.

Neither.

Card.

It may be to make triall of your promise

When he is a sleepe, my selfe will rise, and faigne

Some of his mad trickes, and crie out for helpe,

And faigne my selfe in danger.

Mal.

If your throate were cutting,

I would not come at you, now I have protested against it.

Card.

Why, I thanke you.

Gris.

It was a foule storme to night.

Rod.

The Lord Ferdinand's chamber, shooke like an Ozier.

Mal.

It was nothing but pure kindnesse in the Diuell,

To rocke his owne child.

Exeunt.

Card.

The reason why I would not suffer these[P93]

About my brother, is, because at midnight

I may with better priuacy, conuay

Iulias body, to her owne Lodging: O, my Conscience!

I would pray now: but the Diuell takes away my heart

For hauing any confidence in Praier.

About this houre, I appointed Bosola

To fetch the body: when he hath seru'd my turne,

He dies.

Exit.

Bos.

Hah? it was the Cardinalls voyce: I heard him name,

Bosola, and my death: listen, I heare ones footing.

Ferd.

Strangling is a very quiein death.

Bos.

Nay then I see, I must stand upon my Guard.

Ferd.

What say to that? whisper, softly: do you agree to it?

So it must be done in the darke: the Cardinall

Would not for a thousand pounds, the Doctor should see it.

Exit.

Bos.

My death is plotted; here is the consequence of murther.

We value not desert, nor Christian breath,

When we know blacke deedes, must be cur'de with death.

Ser.

Here stay Sir, and be confident, I pray:

I will fetch you a darke Lanthorne.

Exit

Ant.

Could I take him at his prayers,

There were hope of pardon.

Bos.

Fall right my sword:

I will not giue thee so much leysure, as to pray.

Ant.

O, I am gone: Thou hast ended a long suit,

In a mynut.

Bos.

What art thou?

Ant.

A most wretched thing,

That onely have thy benefit in death,

To appeare my selfe.

Ser.

Where are you Sir?

Ant.

Very neere my home: Bosola?

Ser.

O misfortune.

Bos.

Smother thy pitty, thou art dead else: Antonio?

The man I would have sau'de 'boue mine owne life?

We are meerely the Starres tennys-balls (strooke, and banded

Which way please them) o good Antonio,[P94]

I will whisper one thing in thy dying eare,

Shall make thy heart breake quickly: thy faire Dutchesse

And two sweet Children.

Ant.

Their very names

Kindle a litle life in me.

Bos.

Are murdrd!

Ant.

Some men have wish'd to die.

At the hearing of sad tydings: I am glad

That I shall do it in sadnes: I would not now

Wish my wounds balm'de, nor heal'd: for I have no vse

To put my life to: In all our Quest of Greatnes;

(Like wanton Boyes, whose pastime is their care)

We follow after bubbles, blowne in the ayre.

Pleasure of life, what is it? onely the good houres

Of an Ague: meerely a preparatiue to rest,

To endure vexation: I do not aske

The processe of my death: onely commend me

To Delio.

Bos.

Breake heart:

Ant.

And let my Sonne, flie the Courts of Princes.

Bos.

Thou seem'st to have lou'd Antonio?

Ser.

I brought him hether,

To have reconcil'd him to the Cardinall.

Bos.

I do not aske thee that:

Take him up, if thou tender thine owne life,

And beare him, where the Lady Iulia

Was wont to lodge: O, my fate moues swift.

I have this Cardinall, in the forge already,

Now I will bring him to the hammer: (O direfull misprision;)

I will not Imitate things glorious,

No more then base: I will be mine owne example.

On, on: and looke thou represent, for silence,

The thing thou bear'st.

Exeunt.

[P90]

SCENA. V.

Cardinall (with a Booke) Bosola, Pescara, Malateste, Rodorigo, Ferdinand, Delio, Seruant with Antonio's body.

Card.

I am puzzell'd in a question about hell:

He saies, in hell, there is one materiall fire,

And yet it shall not burne all men alike.

Lay him by: How tedious is a guilty conscience?

When I looke into the Fish-ponds, in my Garden,

Me thinkes I see a thing, arm'd with a Rake

That seemes to strike at me: Now? art thou come? thou look'st ghastly:

There sits in thy face, some great determination,

Mix'd with some feare.

Bos.

Thus it lightens into action:

I am come to kill thee.

Card.

Hah? helpe: our Guard.

Bos.

Thou art deceiu'd:

They are out of thy howling.

Card.

Hold: and I will faithfully deuide

Reuenewes with thee.

Bos.

Thy prayers, and proffers

Are both vnseasonable.

Card.

Raise the Watch: we are betraid.

Bos.

I have confinde your flight:

I will suffer your retreyt to Iulias Chamber,

But no further.

Card.

Helpe: we are betraid.

Mal.

Listen:

Card.

My Dukedome, for rescew.

Rod.

Fye upon his counterfeyting.

Mal.

Why, it is not the Cardinall.[P96]

Rod.

Yes, yes, it is he:

But I will see him hang'd, ere I will goe downe to him.

Card.

Here is a plot upon me, I am assaulted: I am lost,

Vnlesse some rescew.

Gris.

He doth this pretty well

But it will not serue; to laugh me out of mine honour.

Card.

The sword is at my throat:

Rod.

You would not bawle so lowd then.

Mal.

Come, come: lets us goe to bed: he told us thus much aforehand.

Pes.

He wish'd you should not come at him: but beleeu it,

The accent of the voyce sounds not in iest.

I will downe to him, howsoeuer, and with engines

Force ope the doores.

Rod.

Let us follow him aloofe,

And note how the Cardinall will laugh at him.

Bos.

There is for you first: 'cause you shall not vnbarracade the doore

To let in rescew.

He kills the Seruant.

Card.

What cause hast thou to pursue my life?

Bos.

Looke there:

Card.

Antonio?

Bos.

Slaine by my hand vnwittingly:

Pray, and be sudden: when thou kill'dst thy sister,

Thou tookst from Iustice her most equall ballance,

And left her naught but her sword.

Card.

O mercy.

Bos.

Now it seemes thy Greatnes was onely outward:

For thou fall'st faster of thy selfe, then calamitie

Can driue thee: I will not wast longer time: There.

Card.

Thou hast hurt me:

Bos.

Againe:

Card.

Shall I die like a Leuoret

Without any resistance? helpe, helpe, helpe:

I am slaine.

Ferd.

The allarum? giue me a fresh horse:

Rally the vaunt-guard: or the day is lost:

Yeeld, yeeld: I giue you the honour of Armes,[P97]

Shake my Sword ouer you, will you yeilde?

Card.

Helpe me, I am your brother.

Ferd.

The diuell?

My brother fight upon the aduerse party?

There flies your ransome.

He wounds the Cardinall, and (in the scuffle) giues Bosola his death wound..

Card.

O Iustice:

I suffer now, for what hath former been:

Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.

Ferd.

Now you are braue fellowes:

Cæsars Fortune was harder then Pompeys:

Cæsar died in the armes of prosperity,

Pompey at the feete of disgrace: you both died in the field,

The paine is nothing: paine many times, is taken away, with

The apprehension of greater, (as the tooth-ache with the sight

Of a Barbor, that comes to pull it out) there is Philosophy for you.

Bos.

Now my reuenge is perfect: sinke (thou maine cause

Of my vndoing) the last part of my life,

Hath done me best seruice.

He kills Ferdinand.

Ferd.

Giue me some wet hay, I am broken winded,

I do account this world but a dog-kennell:

I will vault credit, and affect high pleasures,

Beyond death.

Bos.

He seemes to come to himselfe, now he is so neere the bottom.

Ferd.

My sister, o! my sister: there is the cause of it.

Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust,

Like Diamonds, we are cut with our owne dust.

Card.

Thou hast thy payment too.

Bos.

Yes, I hold my weary soule, in my teeth,

It is ready to part from me: I do glory

That thou, which stood'st like a huge Piramid

Begun upon a large, and ample base,

Shalt end in a little point a kind of nothing.

Pes.

How now (my Lord?)

Mal.

O sad disastre.

Rod.

How comes this?

Bos.

Reuenge, for the duchesse of Malfy, murdered

By the Aragonian brethren: for Antonio,[P98]

Slaine by his hand: for lustful Iulia,

Poyson'd by this man; and lastly, for my selfe,

(That was an Actor in the maine of all,

Much 'gainst mine owne good nature, yet in the end

Neglected.)

Pes.

How now (my Lord.)

Card.

Looke to my brother:

He gaue us these large wounds, as we were strugling

Here in the rushes: And now, I pray, let me

Be layd by, and neuer thought of.

Pes.

How fatally (it seemes) he did withstand,

His owne rescew?

Mal.

Thou wretched thing of blood,

How came Antonio by his death?

Bos.

In a mist: I know not how,

Such a mistake, as I have often seene

In a play: O, I am gone,

We are onely like dead wals, or vaulted graues,

That ruin'd, yeildes no eccho: Fare you well,

It may be paine: but no harme to me to die,

In so good a quarrell: O this gloomy world,

In what a shadow, or deepe pit of darknesse,

Doth (womanish, and fearefull) mankind liue?

Let worthy mindes, nere stagger in distrust

To suffer death, or shame for what is iust,

Mine is an other voyage.

Pes.

The noble Delio, as I came to the Pallace,

Told me of Antonio's being here, and shew'd me

A pritty gentleman his sonne and heire.

Mal.

O Sir, you come too late.

Del.

I heard so, and

Was arm'd for it ere I came: Let us make noble vse

Of this great ruine; and ioyne all our force

To establish this yong hopefull Gentleman

In his mothers right. These wretched eminent things

Leaue no more fame behind them, then should one[P99]

Fall in a frost, and leaue his print in snow,

As soone as the sun shines, it euer melts,

Both forme, and matter: I have euer thought

Nature doth nothing so great, for great men,

As when she is pleas'd, to make them Lords of truth:

Integrity of life, is fames best friend,

Which noblely (beyond Death) shall crowne the end.

Exeunt.

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Citation Suggestion for this Object: TextGrid Repository (2016). TEI. 3005 The Duchess of Malfi. University of Oxford Text Archive. University of Oxford, License: Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License [http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/]. https://hdl.handle.net/11378/0000-0005-CF9D-2

TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE, GEORGE HARDING, Baron Barkeley of Barkeley Castle and Knight of the Order of the Bathe To the illustrious Prince CHARLES.

In the iust VVorth, of that well Deseruer, Mr. IOHN WEBSTER, and upon this Maister-peece of Tragœdy.

To his friend Mr Iohn Webster Vpon his Dutchesse of Malfy

To the Reader of the Authour, and his Dutchesse of Malfy.

Actus primus.

Scena Prima.

SCENA II.

ACTVS II.

SCENA I.

SCENA II.

SCENA III.

SCENA. IIII.

SCENA V.

ACTVS III.

SCENA I.

SCENA. II

SCENA III

SCENA IIII.

SCENA V.

ACTVS IIII.

SCENA. I.

SCENA II.

ACTVS V.

SCENA. I

SCENA. II.

SCENA. III.

SCENA. IIII.

SCENA. V.

In the iust VVorth, of that well Deseruer,
Mr. IOHN WEBSTER, and upon this
Maister-peece of Tragœdy.

To his friend Mr Iohn Webster
Vpon his Dutchesse
of Malfy