University of Virginia Library

SCENE VII.

Eleanor's Closet.
Eleanor and the Physician.
Eleanor.
But wherefore not, old dotard! have at once
Poisoned him?

Physician.
“Poisoned!”—speak not so broad, your highness:
You talk of poison as a common dose
Like coloured aqua pura, with us,—ditto, ditto,
To be repeated every night at bed-time!
'Tis not just so.

Eleanor.
How long will he be dying?

Physician.
Is not this chamber very old?

Eleanor.
What mean'st?

Physician.
Is there no craziness about it?

Eleanor.
Some
I think within it!

Physician.
Ha! ha! ha!—But think you
Are not the walls cracked here or there?

Eleanor.
As much as
The emptier chamber of thy brain.

Physician.
No more?—
I did but dread those seamy auricles
Which oft to little ears without betray
Secrets most close, and with their mystic echoes
Magnify all that's breathed, as the lithe horn
Reverberates mightily the small bray of man.

Eleanor.
I do not understand your chymic speech:
Talk plain as me. Have you made sure the death
Of old De Clifford?

Physician.
Hush! hush!—Thus it stands:
I 've given him—Who's behind that tapestry there?
It moves!—it doth conceal some prowler!—

Eleanor.
True;
A felon watcher; go you, pull him out
By the ears, still longer than your own.

Physician.
Ho! ho!
[Pulling aside the curtain.
Feline you meant, not felon: here is nought
Save old Grimalkin!

Eleanor.
Watching for a mouse
Less timorous than thee!—Go on, sir!—Now,
What dost thou gape at?

Physician.
Here's a sliding pannel
Under the fringe!—I see it!

Eleanor.
Cunning fox!
That dost mistake a hencoop for a trap!—
'Tis an armoire, a cupboard, where I keep
Some cates and cordials for refection:
I see thou smell'st at it like other vermin.

Physician.
Truly a glass or so of aqua vitæ,
Most gracious Mistress, were restorative
After these fainting fits—

Eleanor.
Help thyself; go!

Physician
(filling a glass).
This aqua vitæ is not that same draught
You spake so freely of distributing?—
Not simple aqua mortis, no?

Eleanor.
Thou fool!
Thy low suspicions almost make me smile.
Dost think I'd poison thee with aqua vitæ,
When ratsbane's to be had?

Physician.
Faith, that is true!
'Tis cheap and potent death; but leaves the corse
Unsightlier than should be, livid, and drawn
Distort, as 'twere, within by tenter—hooks,
With its last agonies upon it featured
Too strong, and tale-telling. It is not safe,
Never make use of it!

Eleanor.
Not even on thee:
I will be guided by thy old experience
In safe and skilful murder.—Now, good doctor,
Go on.

Physician.
This poisonous talk hath almost choaked me.
But to our case. The old lord ere I came
Had long been under care o' the President
Himself of our grave College, an adept
At manslaughter—who hath saved me much trouble.

Eleanor.
Thou wert the first.

Physician.
Pardon me, gracious Madam:
Ere me had President Disease been with him,
Under whom doctors but licentiates are;
I found the patient well prepared; for he
Had Death's pale brand upon his wrinkled brow
Marking him for the tomb. I only minister'd
A gentle—quickener.

Eleanor.
Hastener, hurrier?

Physician.
Madam,
Nought as I live, but somewhat—to help Nature,
As we physicians say,—for he was dying;
Merely instead of a preservative,
A small exasperative,—nothing more!

Eleanor.
Then how soon is he dust?

Physician.
I could not say
At all!—but, as I guess, he should be in
His rattles about now.

Eleanor.
That's well!—here 's gold.
And the gay Rose, didst drop a canker in it,
To kill it quickly too?

Physician.
Madam, impossible!
Were I so reckless and precipitate
As you would have me, all would be found out,
And we both hang'd together!—I'm too bold,
I should hang miles below your Majesty!—
Besides that, Mistress Rose sips like the birds
Only pure water, which all minglement
Would stain; and, like them too, cats, I believe,
But what she culls herself. 'Tis hard to syrup her;
Nathless, I'll find a way—

Eleanor.
Do, and thou'lt find it
Strown with gold blocks to build a palace of!—
Meantime go brew me something rich with venom,
For household use.

Physician.
Dear Madam, be discreet!

Eleanor.
Discretion is a virtue for the mean,
Not for the mighty!

Physician.
I 'm of the mighty ones!
Thou ne'er hast done half the fine knaveries
With thy bold indiscretion, which my “meanness”
Hath wrought unknown in every civil land!—
But for my exquisite discretion, I
Had never scaped the tithe, nor been admitted
As a preserver, where I have proved, and may
Again prove, a destroyer!

Eleanor.
I have chafed
Thy noble pride in villany, it seems,
So loud a claim thou lay'st to bear the bell.

Physician.
Ha! ha! ha! ha!—your Highness might contend!

Eleanor.
Begone, sir, as you came; down those wry stairs,
Through the court vaults, and out by the sewer.—Begone!

Physician.
It is the safest way, though none of the sweetest!

[Exeunt severally.