SCENE IV.--_Grounds near the_ DUKE’S _Palace_.

_Enter_ DUKE, Doctor BENEDICT, FLUELLO, CASTRUCHIO, _and_ PIORATTO.

_Duke._ Give us a little leave.

[_Exeunt_ FLUELLO, CASTRUCHIO, _and_ PIORATTO.

Doctor, your news.

_Doct._ I sent for him my lord, at last he came, And did receive all speech that went from me, As gilded pills made to prolong his health. My credit with him wrought it; for some men Swallow even empty hooks, like fools that fear No drowning where ’tis deepest, ’cause ’tis clear: In th’end we sat and eat: a health I drank To Infelice’s sweet departed soul. This train I knew would take.

_Duke._ ’Twas excellent.

_Doct._ He fell with such devotion on his knees, To pledge the fame--

_Duke._ Fond, superstitious fool!

_Doct._ That had he been inflamed with zeal of prayer, He could not pour’t out with more reverence: About my neck he hung, wept on my cheek, Kissed it, and swore he would adore my lips, Because they brought forth Infelice’s name.

_Duke._ Ha, ha! alack, alack.

_Doct._ The cup he lifts up high, and thus he said; Here noble maid!--drinks, and was poisonèd.

_Duke._ And died?

_Doct._ And died, my lord.

_Duke._ Thou in that word Hast pieced mine aged hours out with more years, Than thou hast taken from Hippolito. A noble youth he was, but lesser branches Hindering the greater’s growth, must be lopt off, And feed the fire. Doctor, we’re now all thine, And use us so: be bold.

_Doct._ Thanks, gracious lord-- My honoured lord:--

_Duke._ Hum.

_Doct._ I do beseech your grace to bury deep, This bloody act of mine.

_Duke._ Nay, nay, for that, Doctor, look you to it, me it shall not move; They’re cursed that ill do, not that ill do love.

_Doct._ You throw an angry forehead on my face: But be you pleased backward thus far to look, That for your good, this evil I undertook--

_Duke._ Ay, ay, we conster[205] so.

[205] Construe.

_Doct._ And only for your love.

_Duke._ Confessed: ’tis true.

_Doct._ Nor let it stand against me as a bar, To thrust me from your presence; nor believe As princes have quick thoughts, that now my finger Being dipt in blood, I will not spare the hand, But that for gold,--as what can gold not do?-- I may be hired to work the like on you.

_Duke._ Which to prevent--

_Doct._ ’Tis from my heart as far.

_Duke._ No matter, doctor; ’cause I’ll fearless sleep, And that you shall stand clear of that suspicion, I banish thee for ever from my court. This principle is old, but true as fate, Kings may love treason, but the traitor hate. [_Exit._

_Doct._ Is’t so? nay then, duke, your stale principle, With one as stale, the doctor thus shall quit-- He falls himself that digs another’s pit.

_Enter the ~Doctor’s Servant~._

How now! where is he? will he meet me?

_Ser._ Meet you, sir? he might have met with three fencers in this time, and have received less hurt than by meeting one doctor of physic: Why, sir, he has walked under the old abbey-wall yonder this hour, till he’s more cold than a citizen’s country house in Janivery. You may smell him behind, sir: la, you, yonder he comes.

_Doct._ Leave me.

_Ser._ I’th’ lurch, if you will. [_Exit._

_Enter_ HIPPOLITO.

_Doct._ O my most noble friend!

_Hip._ Few but yourself, Could have enticed me thus, to trust the air With my close sighs. You sent for me; what news?

_Doct._ Come, you must doff this black, dye that pale cheek Into his own colour, go, attire yourself Fresh as a bridegroom when he meets his bride. The duke has done much treason to thy love; ’Tis now revealed, ’tis now to be revenged: Be merry, honoured friend, thy lady lives.

_Hip._ What lady?

_Doct._ Infelice, she’s revived; Revived? Alack! death never had the heart, To take breath from her.

_Hip._ Umh: I thank you, sir, Physic prolongs life, when it cannot save; This helps not my hopes, mine are in their grave, You do some wrong to mock me.

_Doct._ By that love Which I have ever borne you, what I speak Is truth: the maiden lives; that funeral, Duke’s tears, the mourning, was all counterfeit; A sleepy draught cozened the world and you: I was his minister, and then chambered up, To stop discovery.

_Hip._ O treacherous duke!

_Doct._ He cannot hope so certainly for bliss, As he believes that I have poisoned you: He wooed me to’t; I yielded, and confirmed him In his most bloody thoughts.

_Hip._ A very devil!

_Doct._ Her did he closely coach to Bergamo, And thither--

_Hip._ Will I ride: stood Bergamo In the low countries of black hell, I’ll to her.

_Doct._ You shall to her, but not to Bergamo: How passion makes you fly beyond yourself. Much of that weary journey I ha’ cut off; For she by letters hath intelligence Of your supposed death, her own interment, And all those plots, which that false duke, her father, Has wrought against you; and she’ll meet you--

_Hip._ Oh, when?

_Doct._ Nay, see; how covetous are your desires! Early to-morrow morn.

_Hip._ Oh where, good father?

_Doct._ At Bethlem Monastery: are you pleased now?

_Hip._ At Bethlem Monastery! the place well fits, It is the school where those that lose their wits, Practise again to get them: I am sick Of that disease; all love is lunatic.

_Doct._ We’ll steal away this night in some disguise: Father Anselmo, a most reverend friar, Expects our coming; before whom we lay Reasons so strong, that he shall yield in bands Of holy wedlock to tie both your hands.

_Hip._ This is such happiness, That to believe it, ’tis impossible.

_Doct._ Let all your joys then die in misbelief; I will reveal no more.

_Hip._ O yes, good father, I am so well acquainted with despair, I know not how to hope: I believe all.

_Doct._ We’ll hence this night, much must be done, much said: But if the doctor fail not in his charms, Your lady shall ere morning fill these arms.

_Hip._ Heavenly physician! for thy fame shall spread, That mak’st two lovers speak when they be dead. [_Exeunt._

ACT THE FIFTH.