SCENE III.--_The Court of the same Palace.

_Enter_ BOSOLA, _with a dark lantern._

_Bos._ Sure I did hear a woman shriek: list, ha! And the sound came, if I received it right, From the duchess' lodgings. There's some stratagem In the confining all our courtiers To their several wards: I must have part of it; My intelligence will freeze else. List, again! It may be 'twas the melancholy bird, Best friend of silence and of solitariness, The owl, that screamed so.--Ha! Antonio!

_Enter_ ANTONIO.

_Ant._ I heard some noise.--Who's there? what art thou? speak.

_Bos._ Antonio, put not your face nor body To such a forced expression of fear: I am Bosola, your friend.

_Ant._ Bosola!-- [_Aside._] This mole does undermine me.--Heard you not A noise even now?

_Bos._ From whence?

_Ant._ From the duchess' lodging.

_Bos._ Not I: did you?

_Ant._ I did, or else I dreamed.

_Bos._ Let's walk towards it.

_Ant._ No: it may be 'twas But the rising of the wind.

_Bos._ Very likely. Methinks 'tis very cold, and yet you sweat: You look wildly.

_Ant._ I have been setting a figure For the duchess' jewels.

_Bos._ Ah, and how falls your question? Do you find it radical?

_Ant._ What's that to you? 'Tis rather to be questioned what design, When all men were commanded to their lodgings, Makes you a night-walker.

_Bos._ In sooth, I'll tell you: Now all the court's asleep, I thought the devil 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._ [_Aside._] This fellow will undo me.-- You gave the duchess apricocks to-day: Pray Heaven they were not poisoned!

_Bos._ Poisoned! A Spanish fig For the imputation.

_Ant._ Traitors are ever confident Till they are discovered. There were jewels stol'n too: In my conceit, none are to be suspected More than yourself.

_Bos._ You are a false steward.

_Ant._ Saucy slave, I'll pull thee up by the roots.

_Bos._ May be the ruin will crush you to pieces.

_Ant._ You are an impudent snake indeed, sir: Are you scarce warm, and do you show your sting? You libel well, sir.

_Bos._ No, sir: copy it out, And I will set my hand to't.

_Ant._ [_Aside._] My nose bleeds. One that were superstitious would count This ominous, when it merely comes by chance: Two letters, that are wrote here for my name, Are drowned in blood! Mere accident.--For you, sir, I'll take order I' the morn you shall be safe:--[_Aside._] 'tis that must colour Her lying-in:--sir, this door you pass not: I do not hold it fit that you come near The duchess' lodgings, till you have quit yourself.-- [_Aside_] The great are like the base, nay, they are the same, When they seek shameful ways to avoid shame. [_Exit._

_Bos._ Antonio hereabout did drop a paper:-- Some of your help, false friend:--O, here it is. What's here? a child's nativity calculated! [_Reads._ "The duchess was delivered of a son, 'tween the hours twelve and one in the night, _Anno Dom._ 1504,"--that's this year--"_decimo nono Decembris,_"--that's this night,--"taken according to the meridian of Malfi,"--that's our duchess: happy discovery!--"The lord of the first house being combust in the ascendant, signifies short life; and Mars being in a human sign, joined to the tail of the Dragon, in the eighth house, doth threaten a violent death. _Cætera non scrutantur._" Why, now 'tis most apparent: this precise fellow Is the duchess' bawd:--I have it to my wish! This is a parcel of intelligency Our courtiers were cased up for: it needs must follow That I must be committed on pretence Of poisoning her; which I'll endure, and laugh at. If one could find the father now! but that Time will discover. Old Castruccio I' the morning posts to Rome: by him I'll send A letter that shall make her brothers' galls O'erflow their livers. This was a thrifty way. Though lust do mask in ne'er so strange disguise, She's oft found witty, but is never wise. [_Exit._