 | The Tragedy of The Dutchesse of Malfy |  |
ACTVS V.
SCENA I.
Antonio, Delio, Pescara, Iulia.Ant.
What thinke you of my hope of reconcilement
To the Aragonian brethren?
Del.
I misdoubt it
For though they haue sent their letters of safe conduct
For your repaire to Millaine, they appeare
But Nets, to entrap you: The Marquis of Pescara,
Vnder whom you hold certaine land in Cheit,
Much 'gainst his noble nature, hath bin mou'd
To ceize those lands, and some of his dependants
Are at this instant, making it their suit
To be inuested in your Reuenewes.
I cannot thinke, they meane well to your life,
That doe depriue you of your meanes of life,
Your liuing.
Ant.
You are still an heretique.
To any safety, I can shape my selfe.
Del.
Here comes the Marquis: I will make my selfe
Petitioner for some part of your land,
To know whether it is flying.
Ant.
I pray doe.
Del.
Sir, I haue a suit to you.
Pesc.
To me.
Del.
An easie one:
There is the Cittadell of St. Bennet,
With some demeasnes, of late in the possession
Of Antonio Bologna, please you bestow them on me?
Pesc.
You are my friend: But this is such a suit,
Nor fit for me to giue, nor you to take.
Del.
No sir?
Pesc.
I will giue you ample reason for't,
Soone in priuate: Here's the Cardinalls Mistris.
Iul.
My Lord, I am growne your poore Petitioner,
And should be an ill begger, had I not
A Great mans letter, here (the Cardinalls)
To Court you in my fauour.
He entreates for you
The Cittadell of Saint Bennet, that belong'd
To the banish'd Bologna.
Iul.
Yes:
Pesc.
I could not haue thought of a friend, I could
Rather pleasure with it: 'tis yours:
Iul.
Sir, I thanke you:
And he shall know how doubly I am engag'd
Both in your guift, and speedinesse of giuing,
Which makes your graunt, the greater.
Exit.
Ant.
How they fortefie
Themselues with my ruine?
Del.
Sir: I am
Litle bound to you:
Pesc.
Why.
Del.
Because you denide this suit, to me, and gau't
To such a creature.
Pesc.
Doe you know what it was?
It was Antonios land: not forfeyted
By course of lawe; but rauish'd from his throate
By the Cardinals entreaty: it were not fit
I should bestow so maine a peece of wrong
Vpon my friend: 'tis a gratification
Onely due to a Strumpet: for it is iniustice;
Shall I sprinckle the pure blood of Innocents
To make those followers, I call my friends
Looke ruddier vpon me? I am glad
This land, (ta'ne from the owner by such wrong)
Returnes againe vnto so fowle an vse,
As Salary for his Lust. Learne, (good Delio)
To aske noble things of me, and you shall find
I'll be a noble giuer.
Del.
You instruct me well:
Ant
Why, here's a man, now, would fright impudence
From sawciest Beggers.
Pesc.
Prince Ferdinand's come to Millaine
Sicke (as they giue out) of an Appoplexie:
But some say, 'tis a frenzie; I am going
To visite him.
Exit.
Ant.
'Tis a noble old fellow:
Del.
What course doe you meane to take, Antonio?
This night, I meane to venture all my fortune
(Which is no more, then a poore lingring life)
To the Cardinals worst of mallice: I haue got
Priuate accesse to his chamber: and intend
To visit him, about the mid of night.
(As once his brother did our noble Dutchesse.)
It may be that the sudden apprehension
Of danger (for I'll goe in mine owne shape)
When he shall see it fraight with loue, and dutie,
May draw the poyson out of him, and worke
A friendly reconcilement; if it faile;
Yet, it shall rid me of this infamous calling,
For better fall once, then be euer falling.
Del.
I'll second you in all danger: and (how ere)
My life keepes rancke with yours
Ant.
You are still my lou'd, and best friend.
Exeunt.
SCENA. II.
Pescara, a Doctor, Ferdinand, Cardinall, Malateste, Bosola, Iulia.Pesc.
Now Doctor; may I visit your Patient?
Doctor.
If't please your Lordship: but he's instantly
To take the ayre here in the Gallery,
By my direction.
Pesc.
'Pray-thee, what's his disease?
Doc.
A very pestilent disease (my Lord)
They call Licanthropia.
Pesc.
What's that?
I need a Dictionary to't.
Doc.
I'll tell you:
In those that are possess'd with't there ore-flowes
Such mellencholy humour, they imagine
Themselues to be transformed into Woolues,
Steale forth to Church-yards in the dead of night,
And dig dead bodies vp: as two nights since
One met the Duke, 'bout midnight in a lane
Behind St. Markes Church, with the leg of a man
Said he was a Woolffe: onely the difference
Was, a Woolffes skinne was hairy on the out-side,
His on the In-side: bad them take their swords,
Rip vp his flesh, and trie: straight I was sent for,
And hauing ministerd to him, found his Grace
Very well recouered.
Pesc.
I am glad on't.
Doc.
Yet not without some feare
Of a relaps: if he grow to his fit againe
I'll goe a neerer way to worke with him
Then euer Paraclesus dream'd of: If
They'll giue me leaue I'll buffet his madnesse out of him.
Stand aside: he comes.
Ferd.
Leaue me.
Mal.
Why doth your Lordship loue this solitarines?
Ferd.
Eagles cōmonly fly alone: They are Crowes, Dawes, and
Sterlings that flocke together: Looke, what's that,
Followes me?
Mal.
Nothing (my Lord)
Ferd.
Yes:
Mal.
'Tis your shadow.
Ferd.
Stay it, let it not haunt me.
Mal.
Impossible; if you moue, and the Sun shine:
Ferd.
I will throtle it.
Mal.
Oh, my Lord: you are angry with nothing.
Ferd.
You are a foole:
How is't possible I should catch my shadow
Vnlesse I fall vpon't? When I goe to Hell,
I meane to carry a bribe: for looke you
Good guifts euer-more make way, for the worst persons.
Pesc.
Rise good my Lord.
Ferd.
I am studying the Art of Patience.
Pesc.
'Tis a noble Vertue;
Ferd.
To driue six Snailes before me, from this towne
To Mosco; neither vse Goad, nor Whip to them,
But let them take their owne time: (the patientst man i'th' world
Match me for an experiment) and I'll crawle after
Like a sheepe-biter.
Card.
Force him vp.
Ferd.
Vse me well, you were best:
What I haue don, I haue don: I'll confesse nothing.
Now let me come to him: Are you mad
(My Lord?) are you out of your Princely wits?
Ferd.
What's he?
Pesc.
Your Doctor.
Ferd.
Let me haue his beard saw'd off, and his eye
Browes fil'd more ciuill.
Doct.
I must do mad trickes with him,
For that's the onely way on't. I haue brought
Your grace a Salamanders skin, to keepe you
From sun-burning.
Ferd.
I haue cruell sore eyes.
Doct.
The white of a Cockatrixes-egge is present remedy.
Ferd.
Let it be a new layd one, you were best:
Hide me from him: Phisitians are like Kings,
They brooke no contradiction.
Doct.
Now he begins to feare me,
Now let me alone with him.
Card.
How now, put off your gowne?
Doct.
Let me haue some forty vrinalls fill'd with Rose-water:
He, and I'll go pelt one an other with them,
Now he begins to feare me: Can you fetch a friske, sir?
Let him go, let him go vpon my perrill:
I finde by his eye, he stands in awe of me,
I'll make him, as tame as a Dormouse.
Ferd.
Can you fetch your friskes, sir: I will stamp him into a Cullice:
Flea off his skin, to couer one of the Anotomies,
This rogue hath set i'th'cold yonder, in Barber-Chyrurgeons hall:
Hence, hence, you are all of you, like beasts for sacrifice,
There's nothing left of you, but tongue, and belly,
Flattery, and leachery.
Pes.
Doctor, he did not feare you throughly.
Doct.
True, I was somewhat to forward.
Bos.
Mercy vpon me, what a fatall iudgement
Hath falne vpon this Ferdinand?
Pes.
Knowes your grace
What accident hath brought vnto the Prince,
This strange distraction?
Card.
I must faigne somewhat: Thus they say it grew,
None of our family dies, but there is seene
The shape of an old woman, which is giuen
By tradition, to vs, to haue bin murther'd
By her Nephewes, for her riches: Such a figure
One night (as the Prince sat vp late at's booke)
Appear'd to him, when crying out for helpe,
The gentlemen of's chamber, found his grace
All on a cold sweate, alter'd much in face
And language: Since which apparition,
He hath growne worse, and worse, and I much feare
He cannot liue.
Bos.
Sir, I would speake with you.
Pes.
We'll leaue your grace,
Wishing to the sicke Prince, our noble Lord,
All health of minde, and body.
Card.
You are most welcome:
Are you come? so: this fellow must not know
By any meanes I had intelligence
In our Duchesse death: For (though I counsell'd it,)
The full of all th'ingagement seem'd to grow
From Ferdinand: Now sir, how fares our sister?
I do not thinke but sorrow makes her looke
Like to an oft-di'd garment: She shall now
Tast comfort from me: why do you looke so wildely?
Oh, the fortune of your master here, the Prince
Deiects you, but be you of happy comfort:
If you'll do on thing for me, I'll entreate
Though he had a cold tombe-stone ore his bones,
I'll'd make you what you would be.
Bos.
Any thing,
Giue it me in a breath, and let me flie to't:
They that thinke long, small expedition win,
For musing much o'th'end, cannot begin.
Iul.
Sir, will you come in to Supper?
Card.
I am busie, leaue me.
Iul.
What an excellent shape hath that fellow?
Exit.
'Tis thus: Antonio lurkes here in Millaine,
Enquire him out, and kill him: while he liues,
Our sister cannot marry, and I haue thought
Of an excellent match for her: do this, and stile me
Thy aduancement.
Bos.
But by what meanes shall I find him out?
Card.
There is a gentleman, call'd Delio
Here in the Campe, that hath bin long approu'd
His loyall friend: Set eie vpon that fellow,
Follow him to Masse, may be Antonio,
Although he do account religion
But a Schoole-name, for fashion of the world,
May accompany him, or else go enquire out
Delio's Confessor, and see if you can bribe
Him to reueale it: there are a thousand wayes
A man might find to trace him: As to know,
What fellowes haunt the Iewes, for taking vp
Great summes of money, for sure he's in want,
Or else to go to th'Picture-makers, and learne
Who brought her Picture lately, some of these
Happily may take—
Bos.
Well, I'll not freeze i'th'businesse,
I would see that wretched thing, Antonio
Aboue all sightes i'th'world.
Card.
Do, and be happy.
Exit.
Bos.
This fellow doth breed Bazalisques in's eies,
He's nothing else, but murder: yet he seemes
Not to haue notice of the Duchesse death:
'Tis his cunning: I must follow his example,
There cannot be a surer way to trace,
Then that of an old Fox.
Iul.
So, sir, you are well met.
Bos.
How now?
Iul.
Nay, the doores are fast enough:
Now Sir, I will make you confesse your treachery.
Bos.
Treachery?
Iul.
Yes, confesse to me
Which of my women 'twas you hyr'd, to put
Loue-powder into my drinke?
Loue powder?
Iul.
Yes, when I was at Malfy,
Why should I fall in loue with such a face else?
I haue already suffer'd for thee so much paine,
The onely remedy to do me good,
Is to kill my longing.
Bos.
Sure your Pistoll holds
Nothing but perfumes, or kissing comfits: excellent Lady,
You haue a pritty way on't to discouer
Your longing: Come, come, I'll disarme you,
And arme you thus, yet this is wondrous strange.
Iul.
Compare thy forme, and my eyes together,
You'll find my loue no such great miracle: Now you'll say,
I am wanton: This nice modesty, in Ladies
Is but a troublesome familiar,
That haunts them.
Bos.
Know you me, I am a blunt souldier.
Iul.
The better,
Sure, there wants fire, where there are no liuely sparkes
Of roughnes.
Bos.
And I want complement.
Iul.
Why ignorance in court-ship cannot make you do amisse,
If you haue a heart to do well.
Bos.
You are very faire.
Iul.
Nay, if you lay beauty to my charge,
I must plead vnguilty.
Bos.
Your bright eyes
Carry a Quiuer of darts in them, sharper
Then Sun-beames.
Iul.
You will mar me with commendation,
Put your selfe to the charge of courting me,
Whereas now I woe you.
Bos.
I haue it, I will worke vpon this Creature,
Let vs grow most amorously familiar:
If the great Cardinall now should see me thus,
Would he not count me a villaine?
Iul.
No, he might count me a wanton,
Not lay a scruple of offence on you:
For if I see, and steale a Diamond,
The fault is not i'th'stone, but in me the thiefe,
We that are great women of pleasure, vse to cut off
These vncertaine wishes, and vnquiet longings,
And in an instant ioyne the sweete delight
And the pritty excuse together: had you bin in'th'streete,
Vnder my chamber window, euen there
I should haue courted you.
Bos.
Oh, you are an excellent Lady.
Iul.
Bid me do somewhat for you presently,
To expresse I loue you.
Bos.
I will, and if you loue me,
Faile not to effect it: The Cardinall is growne wondrous mellancholly,
Demand the cause, let him not put you off,
With faign'd excuse, discouer the maine ground on't.
Iul.
Why would you know this?
Bos.
I haue depended on him,
And I heare that he is falne in some disgrace
With the Emperour, if he be, like the mice
That forsake falling houses, I would shift
To other dependance.
Iul.
You shall not neede follow the warres,
I'll be your maintenance.
Bos.
And I your loyall seruant,
But I cannot leaue my calling.
Iul.
Not leaue an
Vngratefull Generall, for the loue of a sweete Lady?
You are like some, cannot sleepe in feather-beds,
But must haue blockes for their pillowes.
Bos.
Will you do this?
Iul.
Cunningly.
Bos.
To morrow I'll expect th'intelligence.
Iul.
To morrow? get you into my Cabinet,
You shall haue it with you: do not delay me,
No more then I do you: I am like one
That is condemn'd: I haue my pardon promis'd.
But I would see it seal'd: Go, get you in,
You shall see me winde my tongue about his heart,
Like a skeine of silke.
Where are you?
Seru.
Here.
Card.
Let none vpon your liues
Haue conference with the Prince Ferdinand,
Vnlesse I know it: In this distraction
He may reueale the murther:
Yond's my lingring consumption:
I am weary of her: and by any meanes
Would be quit off.
Iul.
How now, my Lord?
What ailes you?
Card.
Nothing.
Iul.
Oh, you are much alterd:
Come, I must be your Secretary, and remoue
This lead from off your bosome, what's the matter?
Card.
I may not tell you.
Iul.
Are you so farre in loue with sorrow,
You cannot part, with part of it? or thinke you
I cannot loue your grace, when you are sad,
As well as merry? or do you suspect
I, that haue bin a secret to your heart,
These many winters, cannot be the same
Vnto your tongue?
Card.
Satisfie thy longing,
The onely way to make thee keepe my councell,
Is not to tell thee.
Iul.
Tell your eccho this,
Or flatterers, that (like ecchoes) still report
What they heare (though most imperfect) and not me:
For, if that you be true vnto your selfe,
I'll know.
Card.
Will you racke me?
Iul.
No, iudgement shall
Draw it from you: It is an equall fault,
To tell ones secrets, vnto all, or none.
Card.
The first argues folly.
Iul.
But the last tyranny.
Card.
Very well, why imagine I haue committed
Some secret deed, which I desire the world
May neuer heare of?
Iul.
Therefore may not I know it?
You have conceal'd for me, as great a sinne
For perfect triall of my constancy
Till now: Sir, I beseech you.
Card.
You'll repent it.
Iul.
Neuer.
Card.
It hurries thee to ruine: I'll not tell thee,
Be well aduis'd, and thinke what danger 'tis
To receiue a Princes secrets: they that do,
Had neede haue their breasts hoop'd with adamant
To containe them: I pray thee yet be satisfi'd,
Examine thine owne frailety, 'tis more easie
To tie knots, then vnloose them: 'tis a secret
That (like a lingring poyson) may chance lie
Spread in thy vaines, and kill thee seauen yeare hence.
Iul.
Now you dally with me.
Card.
No more, thou shalt know it.
By my appointment, the great Duchesse of Malfy,
And two of her yong children, foure nights since
Were strangled.
Iul.
Oh heauen! (sir) what haue you done?
Card.
How now? how setles this? thinke you your
Bosome will be a graue, darke and obscure enough
For such a secret?
Iul.
You haue vndone your selfe (sir.)
Card.
VVhy?
Iul.
It lies not in me to conceale it.
Card.
No? come, I will sweare you to't vpon this booke.
Iul.
Most religiously.
Card.
Kisse it.
Now you shall neuer vtter it, thy curiosity
Hath vndone thee: thou'rt poyson'd with that booke,
Because I knew thou couldst not keepe my councell,
I haue bound the to't by death.
Bos.
For pitty sake, hold.
Card.
Ha, Bosola?
Iul.
I forgiue you,
This equall peece of Iustice you haue done:
For I betraid your councell to that fellow,
He ouer heard it; that was the cause I said
It lay not in me, to conceale it.
Bos.
Oh foolish woman,
Iul.
'Tis weakenesse,
Too much to thinke what should haue bin done,
I go, I know not whether.
Card.
Wherefore com'st thou hither?
Bos.
That I might finde a great man, (like your selfe,)
Not out of his wits (as the Lord Ferdinand)
To remember my seruice.
Card.
I'll haue thee hew'd in peeces.
Bos.
Make not your selfe such a promise of that life
Which is not yours, to dispose of.
Car.
Who plac'd thee here.
Bos.
Her lust, as she intended.
Card.
Very well, now you know me for your fellow murderer.
Bos.
And wherefore should you lay faire marble colours,
Vpon your rotten purposes to me?
Vnlesse you imitate some that do plot great Treasons,
And when they haue done, go hide themselues i'th'graues,
Of those were Actors in't?
Card.
No more,
There is a fortune attends thee.
Bos.
Shall I go sue to fortune any longer?
'Tis the fooles Pilgrimage.
Card.
I haue honors in store for thee.
Bos.
There are a many wayes that conduct to seeming
Honor, and some of them very durty ones.
Card.
Throw to the diuell
Thy mellancholly, the fire burnes well,
VVhat neede we keepe a stirring of 't, and make
A greater smoother? thou wilt kill Antonio?
Bos.
Yes.
Card.
Take vp that body.
Bos.
I thinke I shall
Shortly grow the common Beare, for Church-yards?
Card.
I will allow thee some dozen of attendants,
To aide thee in the murther.
Bos.
Oh, by no meanes,
Phisitians that apply horse-leiches to any rancke swelling,
Vse to cut of their tailes, that the blood may run through them
Least it make me haue a greater, when I ride to the Gallowes.
Card.
Come to me after midnight, to helpe to remoue that body
To her owne Lodging: I'll giue out she dide o'th' Plague;
'Twill breed the lesse enquiry after her death.
Bos.
Where's Castruchio, her husband?
Card.
He's rod to Naples to take possession
Of Antonio's Cittadell.
Bos.
Beleeue me, you haue done a very happy turne.
Card.
Faile not to come: There is the Master-key
Of our Lodgings: and by that you may conceiue
What trust I plant in you.
Exit.
Bos.
You shall find me ready.
Oh poore Antonio, though nothing be so needfull
To thy estate, as pitty, Yet I finde
Nothing so dangerous: I must looke to my footing;
In such slippery yce-pauements, men had neede
To be frost-nayld well: they may breake their neckes else.
The President's here afore me: how this man
Beares vp in blood? seemes feareles? why, 'tis well:
Securitie some men call the Suburbs of Hell,
Onely a dead wall betweene. Well (good Antonio)
I'll seeke thee out; and all my care shall be
To put thee into safety from the reach
Of these most cruell biters, that haue got
Some of thy blood already. It may be,
I'll ioyne with thee, in a most iust reuenge.
The weakest Arme is strong enough, that strikes
With the sword of Iustice: Still me thinkes the Dutchesse
Haunts me: there, there: 'tis nothing but my mellancholy.
O Penitence, let me truely tast thy Cup,
That throwes men downe, onely to raise them vp.
Exit.
SCENA. III.
Antonio, Delio, Eccho, (from the Dutchesse Graue.)Del.
Yond's the Cardinall's window: This fortification
Grew from the ruines of an auncient Abbey:
And to yond side o'th' riuer, lies a wall
(Peece of a Cloyster) which in my opinion
Giues the best Eccho, that you euer heard;
So hollow, and so dismall, and withall
So plaine in the destinction of our words,
That many haue supposde it is a Spirit
That answeres.
Ant.
I doe loue these auncient ruynes:
We neuer tread vpon them, but we set
Our foote vpon some reuerend History,
And questionles, here in this open Court
(Which now lies naked to the iniuries
Of stormy weather) some men lye Enterr'd
Lou'd the Church so well, and gaue so largely to't,
They thought it should haue canopide their Bones
Till Doombes-day: But all things haue their end:
Churches, and Citties (which haue diseases like to men)
Must haue like death that we haue.
Eccho.
Like death that we haue.
Del.
Now the Eccho hath caught you:
Ant.
It groan'd (me thought) and gaue
A very deadly Accent?
Eccho.
Deadly Accent.
Del.
I told you 'twas a pretty one: You may make it
A Huntes-man, or a Faulconer, a Musitian,
Or a Thing of Sorrow.
Eccho.
A Thing of Sorrow.
Ant.
I sure: that suites it best.
Eccho.
That suites it best.
'Tis very like my wiues voyce.
Eccho.
I, wifes-voyce.
Del.
Come: let's vs walke farther from't:
I Would not haue you go toth' Cardinalls to night:
Doe not.
Eccho.
Doe not.
Del.
Wisdome doth not more moderate, wasting Sorrow
Then time: take time for't: be mindfull of thy safety.
Eccho.
Be mindfull of thy safety.
Ant.
Necessitie compells me:
Make scruteny throughout the passes
Of your owne life; you'll find it impossible
To flye your fate.
O flye your fate.
Del.
Harke: the dead stones seeme to haue pitty on you
And giue you good counsell.
Ant.
Eccho, I will not talke with thee;
For thou art a dead Thing.
Eccho.
Thou art a dead Thing.
Ant.
My Dutchesse is asleepe now,
And her litle-Ones, I hope sweetly: oh Heauen
Shall I neuer see her more?
Eccho.
Neuer see her more:
Ant.
I mark'd not one repetition of the Eccho
But that: and on the sudden, a cleare light
Presented me a face folded in sorrow.
Del.
Your fancy; meerely.
Ant.
Come: I'll be out of this Ague;
For to liue thus, is not indeed to liue:
It is a mockery, and abuse of life,
I will not henceforth saue my selfe by halues,
Loose all, or nothing.
Del.
Your owne vertue saue you:
I'll fetch your eldest sonne; and second you:
It may be that the sight of his owne blood
Spred in so sweet a figure, may beget
The more compassion.
Though in our miseries, Fortune haue a part,
Yet, in our noble suffrings, she hath none,
Contempt of paine, that we may call our owne.
Exe.
SCENA. IIII.
Cardinall, Pescara, Malateste, Rodorigo, Grisolan, Bosola, Ferdinand, Antonio, Seruant.Card.
You shall not watch to night by the sicke Prince,
His Grace is very well recouer'd.
Mal.
Good my Lord suffer vs.
Card.
Oh, by no meanes:
The noyce, and change of obiect in his eye,
Doth more distract him: I pray, all to bed,
And though you heare him in his violent fit,
Do not rise, I intreate you.
Pes.
So sir, we shall not,
Card.
Nay, I must haue you promise
Vpon your honors, for I was enioyn'd to't
By himselfe; and he seem'd to vrge it sencibly.
Pes.
Let out honors bind this trifle.
Card.
Nor any of your followers.
Mal.
Neither.
Card.
It may be to make triall of your promise
When he's a sleepe, my selfe will rise, and faigne
Some of his mad trickes, and crie out for helpe,
And faigne my selfe in danger.
Mal.
If your throate were cutting,
I'll'd not come at you, now I haue protested against it.
Card.
Why, I thanke you.
Gris.
'Twas a foule storme to night.
Rod.
The Lord Ferdinand's chamber, shooke like an Ozier.
Mal.
'Twas nothing but pure kindnesse in the Diuell,
To rocke his owne child.
Exeunt.
Card.
The reason why I would not suffer these
I may with better priuacy, conuay
Iulias body, to her owne Lodging: O, my Conscience!
I would pray now: but the Diuell takes away my heart
For hauing any confidence in Praier.
About this houre, I appointed Bosola
To fetch the body: when he hath seru'd my turne,
He dies.
Exit.
Bos.
Hah? 'twas the Cardinalls voyce: I heard him name,
Bosola, and my death: listen, I heare ones footing.
Ferd.
Strangling is a very quiein death.
Bos.
Nay then I see, I must stand vpon my Guard.
Ferd.
What say' to that? whisper, softly: doe you agree to't?
So it must be done i'th' darke: the Cardinall
Would not for a thousand pounds, the Doctor should see it.
Exit.
Bos.
My death is plotted; here's the consequence of murther.
”We value not desert, nor Christian breath,
When we know blacke deedes, must be cur'de with death.
Ser.
Here stay Sir, and be confident, I pray:
I'll fetch you a darke Lanthorne.
Exit.
Ant.
Could I take him at his prayers,
There were hope of pardon.
Bos.
Fall right my sword:
I'll not giue thee so much leysure, as to pray.
Ant.
Oh, I am gone: Thou hast ended a long suit,
In a mynut.
Bos.
What art thou?
Ant.
A most wretched thing,
That onely haue thy benefit in death,
To appeare my selfe.
Ser.
Where are you Sir?
Ant.
Very neere my home: Bosola?
Ser.
Oh misfortune.
Bos.
Smother thy pitty, thou art dead else: Antonio?
The man I would haue sau'de 'boue mine owne life?
We are meerely the Starres tennys-balls (strooke, and banded
Which way please them) oh good Antonio,
Shall make thy heart breake quickly: Thy faire Dutchesse
And two sweet Children.
Ant.
Their very names
Kindle a litle life in me.
Bos.
Are murderd!
Ant.
Some men haue wish'd to die.
At the hearing of sad tydings: I am glad
That I shall do't in sadnes: I would not now
Wish my wounds balm'de, nor heal'd: for I haue no vse
To put my life to: In all our Quest of Greatnes;
(Like wanton Boyes, whose pastime is their care)
We follow after bubbles, blowne in th'ayre.
Pleasure of life, what is't? onely the good houres
Of an Ague: meerely a preparatiue to rest,
To endure vexation: I doe not aske
The processe of my death: onely commend me
To Delio.
Bos.
Breake heart:
Ant.
And let my Sonne, flie the Courts of Princes.
Bos.
Thou seem'st to haue lou'd Antonio?
Ser.
I brought him hether,
To haue reconcil'd him to the Cardinall.
Bos.
I doe not aske thee that:
Take him vp, if thou tender thine owne life,
And beare him, where the Lady Iulia
Was wont to lodge: Oh, my fate moues swift.
I haue this Cardinall, in the forge already,
Now I'll bring him to th'hammer: (O direfull misprision:)
I will not Imitate things glorious,
No more then base: I'll be mine owne example.
On, on: and looke thou represent, for silence,
The thing thou bear'st.
Exeunt.
SCENA. V.
Cardinall (with a Booke) Bosola, Pescara, Malateste, Rodorigo, Ferdinand, Delio, Seruant with Antonio's body.Card.
I am puzzell'd in a question about hell:
He saies, in hell, there's one materiall fire,
And yet it shall not burne all men alike.
Lay him by: How tedious is a guilty conscience?
When I looke into the Fish-ponds, in my Garden,
Me thinkes I see a thing, arm'd with a Rake
That seemes to strike at me: Now? art thou come? thou look'st ghastly:
There sits in thy face, some great determination,
Mix'd with some feare.
Bos.
Thus it lightens into Action:
I am come to kill thee.
Card.
Hah? helpe: our Guard.
Bos.
Thou art deceiu'd:
They are out of thy howling.
Card.
Hold: and I will faithfully deuide
Reuenewes with thee.
Bos.
Thy prayers, and proffers
Are both vnseasonable.
Card.
Raise the Watch: we are betraid.
Bos.
I haue confinde your flight:
I'll suffer your retreyt to Iulias Chamber,
But no further.
Card.
Helpe: we are betraid.
Mal.
Listen:
Card.
My Dukedome, for rescew.
Rod.
Fye vpon his counterfeyting.
Mal.
Why, 'tis not the Cardinall.
Yes, yes, 'tis he:
But I'll see him hang'd, ere I'll goe downe to him.
Card.
Here's a plot vpon me, I am assaulted: I am lost,
Vnlesse some rescew.
Gris.
He doth this pretty well:
But it will not serue; to laugh me out of mine honour.
Card.
The sword's at my throat:
Rod.
You would not bawle so lowd then.
Mal.
Come, come: lets's goe to bed: he told vs thus much aforehand.
Pesc.
He wish'd you should not come at him: but beleeu't,
The accent of the voyce sounds not in iest.
I'll downe to him, howsoeuer, and with engines
Force ope the doores.
Rod.
Let's follow him aloofe,
And note how the Cardinall will laugh at him.
Bos.
There's for you first: 'cause you shall not vnbarracade the doore
To let in rescew.
He kills the Seruant.
Card.
What cause hast thou to pursue my life?
Bos.
Looke there:
Card.
Antonio?
Bos.
Slaine by my hand vnwittingly:
Pray, and be sudden: when thou kill'dst thy sister,
Thou tookst from Iustice her most equall ballance,
And left her naught but her sword.
Card.
O mercy.
Bos.
Now it seemes thy Greatnes was onely outward:
For thou fall'st faster of thy selfe, then calamitie
Can driue thee: I'll not wast longer time: There.
Card.
Thou hast hurt me:
Bos.
Againe:
Card.
Shall I die like a Leuoret
Without any resistance? helpe, helpe, helpe:
I am slaine.
Ferd.
Th'allarum? giue me a fresh horse:
Rall'y the vaunt-guard: or the day is lost:
Yeeld, yeeld: I giue you the honour of Armes,
Card.
Helpe me, I am your brother.
Ferd.
The diuell?
My brother fight vpon the aduerse party?
He wounds the Cardinall, and (in the scuffle) giues Bosola his death wound.
There flies your ransome.
Card.
Oh Iustice:
I suffer now, for what hath former bin:
“Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.
Ferd.
Now you're braue followes:
Cæsars Fortune was harder then Pompeys:
Cæsar died in the armes of prosperity,
Pompey at the feete of disgrace: you both died in the field,
The paine's nothing: paine many times, is taken away, with
The apprehension of greater, (as the tooth-ache with the sight
Of a Barbor, that comes to pull it out) there's Philosophy for you.
Bos.
Now my reuenge is perfect: sinke (thou maine cause
Of my vndoing) the last part of my life,
Hath done me best seruice.
He kills Ferdinand.
Ferd.
Giue me some wet hay, I am broken winded,
I do account this world but a dog-kennell:
I will vault credit, and affect high pleasures,
Beyond death.
Bos.
He seemes to come to himselfe, now he's so neere the bottom.
Ferd.
My sister, oh! my sister, there's the cause on't.
“Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust,
“Like Diamonds, we are cut with our owne dust.
Card.
Thou hast thy payment too.
Bos.
Yes, I hold my weary soule, in my teeth,
'Tis ready to part from me: I do glory
That thou, which stood'st like a huge Piramid
Begun vpon a large, and ample base,
Shalt end in a little point a kind of nothing.
Pes.
How now (my Lord?)
Mal.
Oh sad disastre.
Rod.
How comes this?
Bos.
Reuenge, for the Duchesse of Malfy, murdered
By th'Aragonian brethren: for Antonio,
Poyson'd by this man: and lastly, for my selfe,
(That was an Actor in the maine of all,
Much 'gainst mine owne good nature, yet i'th'end
Neglected.)
Pes.
How now (my Lord?)
Card.
Looke to my brother:
He gaue vs these large wounds, as we were strugling
Here i'th' rushes: And now, I pray, let me
Be layd by, and neuer thought of.
Pes.
How fatally (it seemes) he did withstand,
His owne rescew?
Mal.
Thou wretched thing of blood,
How came Antonio by his death?
Bos.
In a mist: I know not how,
Such a mistake, as I haue often seene
In a play: Oh, I am gone,
We are onely like dead wals, or vaulted graues,
That ruin'd, yeildes no eccho: Fare you well,
It may be paine: but no harme to me to die,
In so good a quarrell: Oh this gloomy world,
In what a shadow, or deepe pit of darknesse,
Doth (womanish, and fearefull) mankind liue?
Let worthy mindes, nere stagger in distrust
To suffer death, or shame for what is iust,
Mine is an other voyage.
Pes.
The noble Delio, as I came to th'Pallace,
Told me of Antonio's being here, and shew'd me
A pritty gentleman his sonne and heire.
Mal.
Oh Sir, you come to late.
Del.
I heard so, and
Was arm'd for't ere I came: Let vs make noble vse
Of this great ruine; and ioyne all our force
To establish this yong hopefull Gentleman
In's mothers right. These wretched eminent things
Leaue no more fame behind 'em, then should one
As soone as the sun shines, it euer melts,
Both forme, and matter: I haue euer thought
Nature doth nothing so great, for great men,
As when she's pleas'd, to make them Lords of truth:
“Integrity of life, is fames best friend,
Which noblely (beyond Death) shall crowne the end.
Exeunt.
FINIS.
| The Tragedy of The Dutchesse of Malfy | |