SCENE II.[3644

ANTONIO, DELIO. [_Enter_] SILVIO, CASTRUCCIO, JULIA, RODERIGO, _and_ GRISOLAN.

_Delio._ The presence ’gins to fill: you promis’d me To make me the partaker of the natures Of some of your great courtiers.

_Ant._ The lord cardinal’s And other strangers’ that are now in court? I shall.—Here comes the great Calabrian duke.

[_Enter_ FERDINAND _and_ Attendants.]

_Ferd._ Who took the ring oft’nest?[3645] 6

_Sil._ Antonio Bologna, my lord.

_Ferd._ Our sister duchess’ great master of her household? Give him the jewel.—When shall we leave this sportive action, and fall to action indeed? 11

_Cast._ Methinks, my lord, you should not desire to go to war in person.

_Ferd._ Now for some gravity.—Why, my lord? 15

_Cast._ It is fitting a soldier arise to be a prince, but not necessary a prince descend to be a captain.

_Ferd._ No?

_Cast._ No, my lord; he were far better do it by a deputy. 21

_Ferd._ Why should he not as well sleep or eat by a deputy? This might take idle, offensive, and base office from him, whereas the other deprives him of honour. 25

_Cast._ Believe my experience, that realm is never long in quiet where the ruler is a soldier.

_Ferd._ Thou told’st me thy wife could not endure fighting.

_Cast._ True, my lord. 30

_Ferd._ And of a jest she broke of[3646] a captain she met full of wounds: I have forgot it.

_Cast._ She told him, my lord, he was a pitiful fellow, to lie, like the children of Ismael, all in tents.[3647] 35

_Ferd._ Why, there ’s a wit were able to undo all the chirurgeons[3648] o’ the city; for although gallants should quarrel, and had drawn their weapons, and were ready to go to it, yet her persuasions would make them put up. 40

_Cast._ That she would, my lord.—How do you like my Spanish gennet?[3649]

_Rod._ He is all fire.

_Ferd._ I am of Pliny’s opinion, I think he was begot by the wind; he runs as if he were ballas’d[3650] with quicksilver. 46

_Sil._ True, my lord, he reels from the tilt often.

_Rod. Gris._ Ha, ha, ha!

_Ferd._ Why do you laugh? Methinks you that are courtiers should be my touch-wood, (51) take fire when I give fire; that is, laugh when I laugh, were the subject never so witty.

_Cast._ True, my lord: I myself have heard a very good jest, and have scorn’d to seem to have so silly a wit as to understand it. 56

_Ferd._ But I can laugh at your fool, my lord.

_Cast._ He cannot speak, you know, but he makes faces; my lady cannot abide him.

_Ferd._ No? 60

_Cast._ Nor endure to be in merry company; for she says too full laughing, and too much company, fills her too much of the wrinkle.

_Ferd._ I would, then, have a mathematical instrument made for her face, that she might not laugh out of compass.—I shall shortly visit (66) you at Milan, Lord Silvio.

_Sil._ Your grace shall arrive most welcome.

_Ferd._ You are a good horseman, Antonio: you have excellent riders in France; what do you think of good horsemanship? 71

_Ant._ Nobly, my lord: as out of the Grecian horse issued many famous princes, so out of brave horsemanship arise the first sparks of growing resolution, that raise the mind to noble action. 76

_Ferd._ You have bespoke it worthily.

_Sil._ Your brother, the lord cardinal, and sister duchess.

[_Enter_ CARDINAL, _with_ DUCHESS, _and_ CARIOLA.]

_Card._ Are the galleys come about?

_Gris._ They are, my lord. 80

_Ferd._ Here ’s the Lord Silvio is come to take his leave.

_Delio._ Now, sir, your promise: what ’s that cardinal? I mean his temper. They say he ’s a brave fellow, Will play his five thousand crowns at tennis, dance, Court ladies, and one that hath fought single combats. 85

_Ant._ Some such flashes superficially hang on him for form; but observe his inward character: he is a melancholy churchman. The spring in his face is nothing but the engend’ring of toads; where he is jealous of any man, he lays worse plots for them than ever was impos’d (91) on Hercules, for he strews in his way flatterers, panders, intelligencers, atheists, and a thousand such political monsters. He should have been Pope; but instead of coming to it by the primitive decency of the church, he did (96) bestow bribes so largely and so impudently as if he would have carried it away without heaven’s knowledge. Some good he hath done——

_Delio._ You have given too much of him. What ’s his brother? 100

_Ant._ The duke there? A most perverse and turbulent nature. What appears in him mirth is merely outside; If he laught heartily, it is to laugh All honesty out of fashion.

_Delio._ Twins?

_Ant._ In quality. He speaks with others’ tongues, and hears men’s suits 105 With others’ ears; will seem to sleep o’ th’ bench Only to entrap offenders in their answers; Dooms men to death by information; Rewards by hearsay.

_Delio._ Then the law to him Is like a foul, black cobweb to a spider,— 110 He makes it his dwelling and a prison To entangle those shall feed him.

_Ant._ Most true: He never pays debts unless they be shrewd turns, And those he will confess that he doth owe. Last, for his brother there, the cardinal, 115 They that do flatter him most say oracles Hang at his lips; and verily I believe them, For the devil speaks in them. But for their sister, the right noble duchess, You never fix’d your eye on three fair medals Cast in one figure, of so different temper. 121 For her discourse, it is so full of rapture, You only will begin then to be sorry When she doth end her speech, and wish, in wonder, She held it less vain-glory to talk much, 125 Than your penance to hear her. Whilst she speaks, She throws upon a man so sweet a look That it were able to raise one to a galliard[3651] That lay in a dead palsy, and to dote On that sweet countenance; but in that look 130 There speaketh so divine a continence As cuts off all lascivious and vain hope. Her days are practis’d in such noble virtue, That sure her nights, nay, more, her very sleeps, Are more in heaven than other ladies’ shrifts. Let all sweet ladies break their flatt’ring glasses, 136 And dress themselves in her.

_Delio._ Fie, Antonio. You play the wire-drawer with her commendations.

_Ant._ I ’ll case the picture up: only thus much; All her particular worth grows to this sum,— She stains[3652] the time past, lights the time to come. 141

_Cari._ You must attend my lady in the gallery, Some half an hour hence.

_Ant._ I shall. [_Exeunt_ ANTONIO _and_ DELIO.]

_Ferd._ Sister, I have a suit to you.

_Duch._ To me, sir?

_Ferd._ A gentlemen here, Daniel de Bosola, One that was in the galleys——

_Duch._ Yes, I know him. 146

_Ferd._ A worthy fellow he ’s: pray, let me entreat for The provisorship of your horse.

_Duch._ Your knowledge of him Commends him and prefers him.

_Ferd._ Call him hither. [_Exit_ Attendants.] We [are] now upon[3653] parting. Good Lord Silvio, Do us commend to all our noble friends 151 At the leaguer.

_Sil._ Sir, I shall.

[_Duch._] You are for Milan?

_Sil._ I am.

_Duch._ Bring the caroches.[3654]—We ’ll bring you down To the haven. [_Exeunt_ DUCHESS, SILVIO, CASTRUCCIO, RODERIGO, GRISOLAN, CARIOLA, JULIA, _and_ Attendants.]

_Card._ Be sure you entertain that Bosola 154 For your intelligence.[3655] I would not be seen in ’t; And therefore many times I have slighted him When he did court our furtherance, as this morning.

_Ferd._ Antonio, the great master of her household, Had been far fitter.

_Card._ You are deceiv’d in him. 159 His nature is too honest for such business.— He comes: I ’ll leave you. [_Exit._]

[_Re-enter_ BOSOLA.]

_Bos._ I was lur’d to you.

_Ferd._ My brother, here, the cardinal could never Abide you.

_Bos._ Never since he was in my debt.

_Ferd._ May be some oblique character in your face Made him suspect you.

_Bos._ Doth he study physiognomy? 165 There ’s no more credit to be given to th’ face Than to a sick man’s urine, which some call The physician’s whore, because she cozens[3656] him. He did suspect me wrongfully.

_Ferd._ For that You must give great men leave to take their times. 170 Distrust doth cause us seldom be deceiv’d. You see the oft shaking of the cedar-tree Fastens it more at root.

_Bos._ Yet take heed; For to suspect a friend unworthily Instructs him the next way to suspect you, 175 And prompts him to deceive you.

_Ferd._ There ’s gold.

_Bos._ So: What follows?—[_Aside._] Never rain’d such showers as these Without thunderbolts i’ th’ tail of them.—Whose throat must I cut?

_Ferd._ Your inclination to shed blood rides post Before my occasion to use you. I give you that To live i’ th’ court here, and observe the duchess; 181 To note all the particulars of her behaviour, What suitors do solicit her for marriage, And whom she best affects.[3657] She ’s a young widow: I would not have her marry again.

_Bos._ No, sir? 185

_Ferd._ Do not you ask the reason; but be satisfied. I say I would not.

_Bos._ It seems you would create me One of your familiars.

_Ferd._ Familiar! What ’s that?

_Bos._ Why, a very quaint invisible devil in flesh,— An intelligencer.[3658]

_Ferd._ Such a kind of thriving thing 190 I would wish thee; and ere long thou mayst arrive At a higher place by ’t.

_Bos._ Take your devils, Which hell calls angels! These curs’d gifts would make You a corrupter, me an impudent traitor; And should I take these, they ’d take me [to] hell. 195

_Ferd._ Sir, I ’ll take nothing from you that I have given. There is a place that I procur’d for you This morning, the provisorship o’ th’ horse; Have you heard on ’t?

_Bos._ No.

_Ferd._ ’T is yours: is ’t not worth thanks?

_Bos._ I would have you curse yourself now, that your bounty 200 (Which makes men truly noble) e’er should make me A villain. O, that to avoid ingratitude For the good deed you have done me, I must do All the ill man can invent! Thus the devil Candies all sins o’er: and what heaven terms vile, 205 That names he complimental.

_Ferd._ Be yourself; Keep your old garb of melancholy; ’t will express You envy those that stand above your reach, Yet strive not to come near ’em. This will gain Access to private lodgings, where yourself 210 May, like a politic dormouse——

_Bos._ As I have seen some Feed in a lord’s dish, half asleep, not seeming To listen to any talk; and yet these rogues Have cut his throat in a dream. What ’s my place? The provisorship o’ th’ horse? Say, then, my corruption 215 Grew out of horse-dung: I am your creature.

_Ferd._ Away! [_Exit._]

_Bos._ Let good men, for good deeds, covet good fame, Since place and riches oft are bribes of shame. Sometimes the devil doth preach. _Exit._

[SCENE III.][3659]

[_Enter_ FERDINAND, DUCHESS, CARDINAL, _and_ CARIOLA.]

_Card._ We are to part from you; and your own discretion Must now be your director.

_Ferd._ You are a widow: You know already what man is; and therefore Let not youth, high promotion, eloquence——

_Card._ No, 5 Nor anything without the addition, honour, Sway your high blood.

_Ferd._ Marry! They are most luxurious[3660] Will wed twice.

_Card._ O, fie!

_Ferd._ Their livers are more spotted Than Laban’s sheep.[3661]

_Duch._ Diamonds are of most value, They say, that have past through most jewellers’ hands. 10

_Ferd._ Whores by that rule are precious.

_Duch._ Will you hear me? I ’ll never marry.

_Card._ So most widows say; But commonly that motion[3662] lasts no longer Than the turning of an hour-glass: the funeral sermon And it end both together.

_Ferd._ Now hear me: 15 You live in a rank pasture, here, i’ th’ court; There is a kind of honey-dew that ’s deadly; ’T will poison your fame; look to ’t. Be not cunning; For they whose faces do belie their hearts Are witches ere they arrive at twenty years, 20 Ay, and give the devil suck.

_Duch._ This is terrible good counsel.

_Ferd._ Hypocrisy is woven of a fine small thread, Subtler than Vulcan’s engine:[3663] yet, believe ’t, Your darkest actions, nay, your privat’st thoughts, 25 Will come to light.

_Card._ You may flatter yourself, And take your own choice; privately be married Under the eaves of night——

_Ferd._ Think ’t the best voyage That e’er you made; like the irregular crab, Which, though ’t goes backward, thinks that it goes right 30 Because it goes its own way: but observe, Such weddings may more properly be said To be executed than celebrated.

_Card._ The marriage night Is the entrance into some prison.

_Ferd._ And those joys, Those lustful pleasures, are like heavy sleeps 35 Which do fore-run man’s mischief.

_Card._ Fare you well. Wisdom begins at the end: remember it. [_Exit._]

_Duch._ I think this speech between you both was studied, It came so roundly off.

_Ferd._ You are my sister: This was my father’s poniard, do you see? 40 I’d be loth to see ’t look rusty, ’cause ’t was his. I would have you give o’er these chargeable revels: A visor and a mask are whispering-rooms That were nev’r built for goodness,—fare ye well— And women like that part which, like the lamprey, 45 Hath nev’r a bone in ’t.

_Duch._ Fie, sir!

_Ferd._ Nay, I mean the tongue; variety of courtship. What cannot a neat knave with a smooth tale Make a woman believe? Farewell, lusty widow. [_Exit._]

_Duch._ Shall this move me? If all my royal kindred 50 Lay in my way unto this marriage, I ’d make them my low footsteps. And even now, Even in this hate, as men in some great battles, By apprehending danger, have achiev’d Almost impossible actions (I have heard soldiers say so), 55 So I through frights and threat’nings will assay This dangerous venture. Let old wives report I wink’d and chose a husband.—Cariola, To thy known secrecy I have given up More than my life,—my fame.

_Cari._ Both shall be safe; 60 For I ’ll conceal this secret from the world As warily as those that trade in poison Keep poison from their children.

_Duch._ Thy protestation Is ingenious and hearty; I believe it. Is Antonio come?

_Cari._ He attends you.

_Duch._ Good dear soul, 65 Leave me; but place thyself behind the arras, Where thou mayest overhear us. Wish me good speed; For I am going into a wilderness, Where I shall find nor path nor friendly clue To be my guide. [CARIOLA _goes behind the arras_.] [_Enter_ ANTONIO.] I sent for you: sit down; 70 Take pen and ink, and write: are you ready?

_Ant._ Yes.

_Duch._ What did I say?

_Ant._ That I should write somewhat.

_Duch._ O, I remember. After these triumphs and this large expense It ’s fit, like thrifty husbands,[3664] we inquire 75 What ’s laid up for to-morrow.

_Ant._ So please your beauteous excellence.

_Duch._ Beauteous! Indeed, I thank you. I look young for your sake; You have ta’en my cares upon you.

_Ant._ I ’ll fetch your grace The particulars of your revenue and expense. 80

_Duch._ O, you are An upright treasurer, but you mistook; For when I said I meant to make inquiry What ’s laid up for to-morrow, I did mean What ’s laid up yonder for me.

_Ant._ Where?

_Duch._ In heaven. 85 I am making my will (as ’t is fit princes should, In perfect memory), and, I pray, sir, tell me, Were not one better make it smiling, thus, Than in deep groans and terrible ghastly looks, As if the gifts we parted with procur’d[3665] 90 That violent distraction?

_Ant._ O, much better.

_Duch._ If I had a husband now, this care were quit: But I intend to make you overseer. What good deed shall we first remember? Say.

_Ant._ Begin with that first good deed began i’ th’ world 95 After man’s creation, the sacrament of marriage. I ’d have you first provide for a good husband; Give him all.

_Duch._ All!

_Ant._ Yes, your excellent self.

_Duch._ In a winding-sheet?

_Ant._ In a couple.

_Duch._ Saint Winifred, that were a strange will! 100

_Ant._ ’T were stranger[3666] if there were no will in you To marry again.

_Duch._ What do you think of marriage?

_Ant._ I take ’t, as those that deny purgatory, It locally contains or heaven or hell; There ’s no third place in ’t.

_Duch._ How do you affect it? 105

_Ant._ My banishment, feeding my melancholy, Would often reason thus:—

_Duch._ Pray, let ’s hear it.

_Ant._ Say a man never marry, nor have children, What takes that from him? Only the bare name Of being a father, or the weak delight 110 To see the little wanton ride a-cock-horse Upon a painted stick, or hear him chatter Like a taught starling.

_Duch._ Fie, fie, what ’s all this? One of your eyes is blood-shot: use my ring to ’t. They say ’t is very sovereign. ’T was my wedding-ring. 115 And I did vow never to part with it But to my second husband.

_Ant._ You have parted with it now.

_Duch._ Yes, to help your eye-sight.

_Ant._ You have made me stark blind.

_Duch._ How? 120

_Ant._ There is a saucy and ambitious devil Is dancing in this circle.

_Duch._ Remove him.

_Ant._ How?

_Duch._ There needs small conjuration, when your finger May do it: thus. Is it fit? [_She puts the ring upon his finger_]: _he kneels_.

_Ant._ What said you?

_Duch._ Sir, This goodly roof of yours is too low built; 125 I cannot stand upright in ’t nor discourse, Without I raise it higher. Raise yourself; Or, if you please, my hand to help you: so. [_Raises him._]

_Ant._ Ambition, madam, is a great man’s madness, That is not kept in chains and close-pent rooms, But in fair lightsome lodgings, and is girt 131 With the wild noise of prattling visitants, Which makes it lunatic beyond all cure. Conceive not I am so stupid but I aim[3667] Whereto your favours tend: but he ’s a fool 135 That, being a-cold, would thrust his hands i’ th’ fire To warm them.

_Duch._ So, now the ground ’s broke, You may discover what a wealthy mine I make you lord of.

_Ant._ O my unworthiness!

_Duch._ You were ill to sell yourself: 140 This dark’ning of your worth is not like that Which tradesmen use i’ th’ city; their false lights Are to rid bad wares off: and I must tell you, If you will know where breathes a complete man (I speak it without flattery), turn your eyes, 145 And progress through yourself.

_Ant._ Were there nor heaven nor hell, I should be honest: I have long serv’d virtue, And nev’r ta’en wages of her.

_Duch._ Now she pays it. The misery of us that are born great! 150 We are forc’d to woo, because none dare woo us; And as a tyrant doubles with his words And fearfully equivocates, so we Are forc’d to express our violent passions In riddles and in dreams, and leave the path 155 Of simple virtue, which was never made To seem the thing it is not. Go, go brag You have left me heartless; mine is in your bosom: I hope ’t will multiply love there. You do tremble: Make not your heart so dead a piece of flesh, 160 To fear more than to love me. Sir, be confident: What is ’t distracts you? This is flesh and blood, sir; ’T is not the figure cut in alabaster Kneels at my husband’s tomb. Awake, awake, man! I do here put off all vain ceremony, 165 And only do appear to you a young widow That claims you for her husband, and, like a widow, I use but half a blush in ’t.

_Ant._ Truth speak for me; I will remain the constant sanctuary Of your good name.

_Duch._ I thank you, gentle love: 170 And ’cause you shall not come to me in debt, Being now my steward, here upon your lips I sign your _Quietus est_.[3668] This you should have begg’d now. I have seen children oft eat sweetmeats thus, As fearful to devour them too soon. 175

_Ant._ But for your brothers?

_Duch._ Do not think of them: All discord without this circumference Is only to be pitied, and not fear’d: Yet, should they know it, time will easily Scatter the tempest.

_Ant._ These words should be mine, 180 And all the parts you have spoke, if some part of it Would not have savour’d flattery.

_Duch._ Kneel. [CARIOLA _comes from behind the arras_.]

_Ant._ Ha!

_Duch._ Be not amaz’d: this woman ’s of my counsel. I have heard lawyers say, a contract in a chamber _Per verba_ [_de_] _presenti_[3669] is absolute marriage. 185 [_She and_ ANTONIO _kneel_.] Bless, heaven, this sacred gordian,[3670] which let violence Never untwine.

_Ant._ And may our sweet affections, like the spheres, Be still in motion!

_Duch._ Quick’ning, and make The like soft music! 190

_Ant._ That we may imitate the loving palms, Best emblem of a peaceful marriage, That nev’r bore fruit, divided!

_Duch._ What can the church force more?

_Ant._ That fortune may not know an accident, 195 Either of joy or sorrow, to divide Our fixed wishes!

_Duch._ How can the church build faster?[3671] We now are man and wife, and ’t is the church That must but echo this.—Maid, stand apart: I now am blind.

_Ant._ What ’s your conceit in this? 200

_Duch._ I would have you lead your fortune by the hand Unto your marriage-bed: (You speak in me this, for we now are one.) We ’ll only lie and talk together, and plot T’ appease my humorous[3672] kindred; and if you please, 205 Like the old tale in _Alexander and Lodowick_, Lay a naked sword between us, keep us chaste. O, let me shrowd my blushes in your bosom, Since ’t is the treasury of all my secrets! [_Exeunt_ DUCHESS _and_ ANTONIO.]

_Cari._ Whether the spirit of greatness or of woman 210 Reign most in her, I know not; but it shows A fearful madness. I owe her much of pity. _Exit._