SCENE II.--_A Hall in the same Palace.

_Enter_ BOSOLA.

_Bos._ So, so, there's no question but her techiness and most vulturous eating of the apricocks are apparent signs of breeding.

_Enter an_ Old Lady.

Now?

_Old Lady._ I am in haste, sir.

_Bos._ There was a young waiting-woman had a monstrous desire to see the glass-house--

_Old Lady._ Nay, pray let me go.

_Bos._ And it was only to know what strange instrument it was should swell up a glass to the fashion of a woman's belly.

_Old Lady._ I will hear no more of the glass-house. You are still abusing women?

_Bos._ Who, I? no; only, by the way now and then, mention your frailties. The orange-tree bears ripe and green fruit and blossoms all together; and some of you give entertainment for pure love, but more for more precious reward. The lusty spring smells well; but drooping autumn tastes well. If we have the same golden showers that rained in the time of Jupiter the thunderer, you have the same Danäes still, to hold up their laps to receive them. Didst thou never study the mathematics?

_Old Lady._ What's that, sir?

_Bos._ Why to know the trick how to make a many lines meet in one centre. Go, go, give your foster-daughters good counsel: tell them, that the devil takes delight to hang at a woman's girdle, like a false rusty watch, that she cannot discern how the time passes. [_Exit_ Old Lady.

_Enter_ ANTONIO, RODERIGO, _and_ GRISOLAN.

_Ant._ Shut up the court-gates.

_Rod._ Why, sir? what's the danger?

_Ant._ Shut up the posterns presently, and call All the officers o' the court.

_Gris._ I shall instantly. [_Exit._

_Ant._ Who keeps the key o' the park-gate?

_Rod._ Forobosco.

_Ant._ Let him bring't presently.

_Re-enter_ GRISOLAN _with_ Servants.

_1st Serv._ O, gentlemen o' the court, the foulest treason!

_Bos._ [_Aside._] If that these apricocks should be poisoned now, Without my knowledge!

_1st Serv._ There was taken even now a Switzer in the duchess' bed chamber--

_2nd Serv._ A Switzer!

_1st Serv._ With a pistol in his great cod-piece.

_Bos._ Ha, ha, ha!

_1st Serv._ The cod-piece was the case for't.

_2nd Serv._ There was a cunning traitor: who would have searched his cod-piece?

_1st Serv._ True, if he had kept out of the ladies' chambers: and all the moulds of his buttons were leaden bullets.

_2nd Serv._ O wicked cannibal! a fire-lock in's cod-piece!

_1st Serv._ 'Twas a French plot, upon my life.

_2nd Serv._ To see what the devil can do!

_Ant._ Are all the officers here?

_Servants._ We are.

_Ant._ Gentlemen, We have lost much plate you know; and but this evening Jewels, to the value of four thousand ducats, Are missing in the duchess' cabinet. Are the gates shut?

_Serv._ Yes.

_Ant._ 'Tis the duchess' pleasure Each officer be locked into his chamber Till the sun-rising; and to send the keys Of all their chests and of their outward doors Into her bed-chamber. She is very sick.

_Rod._ At her pleasure.

_Ant._ She entreats you take't not ill: the innocent Shall be the more approved by it.

_Bos._ Gentleman o' the wood-yard, where's your Switzer now?

_1st Serv._ By this hand, 'twas credibly reported by one o' the black guard.[120] [_Exeunt all except_ ANTONIO _and_ DELIO.

_Delio._ How fares it with the duchess?

_Ant._ She's exposed Unto the worst of torture, pain and fear.

_Delio._ Speak to her all happy comfort.

_Ant._ How I do play the fool with mine own danger! You are this night, dear friend, to post to Rome: My life lies in your service.

_Delio._ Do not doubt me.

_Ant._ O, 'tis far from me: and yet fear presents me Somewhat that looks like danger.

_Delio._ Believe it, 'Tis but the shadow of your fear, no more: How superstitiously we mind our evils! The throwing down salt, or crossing of a hare. Bleeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse, Or singing of a cricket, are of power To daunt whole man in us. Sir, fare you well: I wish you all the joys of a blessed father: And, for my faith, lay this unto your breast,-- Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best. [_Exit._

_Enter_ CARIOLA.

_Cari._ Sir, you are the happy father of a son: Your wife commends him to you.

_Ant._ Blessèd comfort!-- For Heaven' sake tend her well: I'll presently Go set a figure for's nativity. [_Exeunt._