University of Virginia Library

SCENA. I.

Ferdinand, Bosola, Dutchesse, Cariola, Seruants.
Ferd.
How doth our sister Dutchesse beare her selfe
In her imprisonment?

Bos.
Nobly : I'll describe her:
She's sad, as one long vs'd to't: 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.
'Tis so: and this restraint
(Like English Mastiffes, that grow feirce with tying)
Makes her too passionately apprehend
Those pleasures she's kept from.

Ferd.
Curse vpon 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;

Dutch.
I will haue none:
'Pray-thee, why 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 i'th' 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,
He dares not see you:

Duch.
At his pleasure:
Take hence the lights: he's come.

Ferd.
Where are you?

Dutch.
Here sir:

Ferd.
This darkenes suites you well.

Dutch.
I would aske you pardon:

Ferd.
You haue 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.
Doe you visit me for this?
You violate a Sacrament o'th' Church
Shall make you howle in hell for't.

Ferd.
It had bin well,
Could you haue liu'd thus alwayes: for indeed
You were too much i'th' light: But no more,
I come to seale my peace with you: here's a hand,
giues her a dead mans hand.
To which you haue vow'd much loue: the Ring vpon't
You gaue.

Duch.
I affectionately kisse it:

Ferd.
'Pray doe: 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 doe not doubt
But you shall haue the heart too: when you need a friend
Send it to him, that ow'de it: you shall see
Whether he can ayd you.

Dutch.
You are very cold.
I feare you are not well after your trauell:
Hah? lights: oh horrible:

Ferd.
Let her haue lights enough

Exit.
Dutch.
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.
Bos.
Looke you: here's the peece, from which 'twas ta'ne;
He doth present you this sad spectacle,
That now you know directly they are dead,
Hereafter 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't my picture, fashion'd out of wax,
Stucke with a magicall needle, and then buried
In some fowle dung-hill: and yond's an excellent property
For a tyrant, which I would account mercy,

Bos.
What's that?

Dutch.
If they would bind me to that liueles truncke,
And let me freeze to death.

Bos.
Come, you must liue.

Dutch.
That's the greatest torture soules feele in hell,
In hell: that they must liue, and cannot die:
Portia, I'll 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.

Dutch.
The Church enioynes fasting:
I'll 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.

Dutch.
Good comfortable fellow
Perswade a wretch that's broke vpon the wheele
To haue 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 doe play a part in't 'gainst my will.

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

Dutch.
Indeed I haue not leysure to tend so small a busines.

Bos.
Now, by my life, I pitty you.

Dutch.
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'll goe pray: No,
I'll goe curse:

Bos.
Oh fye:

Dutch.
I could curse the Starres.

Bos.
Oh fearefull:

Dutch.
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:

Dutch.
Oh, but you must remember, my curse hath a great way to goe:
Plagues, (that make lanes through largest families)
Consume them:

Bos.
Fye Lady:

Dutch.
Let them like tyrants
Neuer be remembred, but for the ill they haue done:
Let all the zealous prayers of mortefied
Church-men forget them,

Bos.
O vncharitable:

Dutch.
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's 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 sub stantiall Bodies.

Bos.
Why doe you doe this?

Ferd.
To bring her to despaire.

Bos.
'Faith, end here;
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't, was more worth
Then, that which thou wouldst comfort, (call'd a soule)
I will send her masques of common Curtizans,
Haue her meate seru'd vp by baudes, and ruffians,
And ('cause she'll 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 o'th'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's forfeited, by my intelligence,
And this last cruell lie: when you send me next,
The businesse shalbe 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 neu'r will slacke, till it haue spent his fuell,
“Intemperate agues, make Physitians cruell.

Exeunt.