THE TRAGEDY OF THE duchess Of Malfi. As it was Presented privately, at the Blackfriars; and publicly at the Globe, By the king's Majesty's Servants. The perfect and exact Copy, with divers things Primed, that the length of the Play would not bear in the Presentment.  
Written by john Webster.  Hora. 
— Si quid—  
— Candidus Imperti si non his utere mecum.  
LONDON: Printed by NICHOLAS OKES, for JOHN WATERSON, and are to be sold at the sign of the Crown, in Paul's Church yard, 1623.   

The Actors Names.  

Bosola, I. Lowin.  
Ferdinand, 1 R. Burbidge. 2 I. Taylor.  
Cardinal, 1 H. Cundaile. 2 R Robinson.  
Antonio, 1 W Ostler. 2 R. Benfeild.  
Delio, I. underwood.  
Forobosco, N. Towley.  
Malateste.  
The marquess of Pescara, I. Rice.  
Silvio, T. Pollard.  
The several mad men, N. Towley. I. underwood, &c.  
The Duchess, R. Sharp.  
The Cardinals Mis. I. Tomson.  
The Doctor, R Pallant.  
Cariola, R Pallant.  
Court Officers. R Pallant.  
Three young Children.  
Two pilgrims.    

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, GEORGE HARDING, Baron Barkeley of Barkeley Castle and Knight of the Order of the Bathe To the Illustrious Prince CHARLES.  
My Noble Lord,  
THAT I may present my excuse why, (being a stranger to your Lordship) I offer this Poem to your Patronage, I plead this warrant; Men (who never saw the Sea, yet desire to behold that regiment of waters,) choose some eminent River, to guide them thither; and make that as it were, their Conduct, or Postilion: By the like ingenious means, has your fame arrived at my knowledge, receiving it from some of worth, who both in contemplation, and practise, owe to your Honour their clearest service. I do not altogether look up at your Title: The ancientest Nobility, being but a relic of time past, and the truest Honour indeed being for a man to confer Honour on himself, which your Learning strives to propagate, and shall make you arrive at the Dignity of a great Example. I am confident this work is not unworthy your honour's perusal for by such Poems as this, Poets have kissed the hands of Great Princes, and drawn their gentle eyes to look down upon their sheets of paper, when the Poets themselves were bound up in their winding-sheets. The like courtesy from your Lordship, shall make you live in your grave, and laurel spring out of it when the ignorant scorners of the Muses (that like worms in Libraries, seem to live only, to destroy learning) shall wither, neglected, and forgotten. This work and myself I humbly present to your approved censure. It being the utmost of my wishes, to have your Honourable self my weighty and perspicuous Comment: which grace so done me, shall ever be acknowledged  
By your Lordships in all duty and Observance, john Webster.   


In the just Worth, of that well Deserver, Mr. JOHN WEBSTER, and Upon this Masterpiece of Tragedy.  

IN this Thou imitatest one Rich, and Wise,  
That sees His Good Deeds done before he dies;  
As He by Works, Thou by this Work of Fame,  
hast well provided for thy living Name;  
To trust to others honourings, is Worth's Crime,  
Thy Monument is raised in thy Life Time;  
And 'tis most just; for every Familiar Man  
Is his own Marble; and his Merit can  
Cut Him to any Figure, and express  
More Art, than Death's Cathedral Palaces,  
Where Royal Ashes keep their Court: thy Note  
Be ever Plainness, 'tis the Richest Coat:  
Thy Epitaph only the Title he,  
Write, Duchess, that will fetch a tear for thee,  
For whoe'er saw this Duchess live, and die,  
That could get off under a Bleeding Eye.   

In Tragaediam.  
Vt Lux ex Tenebris ictu percussa TONANTIS;  
Illa, (Ruina Malis) claris fit Vita Poetis.   
Thomas Middletonus, Poëta & Chron: Londinensis.   

To his friend Mr. john Webster Upon his Duchess of Malfi.  
I Never saw thy Duchess, till the day,  
That She was lively bodied in thy Play;  
However she answered her low rated Love,  
Her brother's anger, did so far all prove,  
Yet my opinion is, she might speak more;  
But (never in her life) so well before.  
WIL: ROWLEY.   

To the Reader of the Author, and his Duchess of Malfi.  
Crown Him a Poet, whom nor Rome, nor Greece,  
Transcend in all theirs, for a Masterpiece:  
In which, whiles words and matter change, and Men,  
Act one another; He, from whose clear Pen.  
They All took life, To Memory hath lent  
A lasting Fame, to raise his Monument.  
JOHN FORD.    

Actus Primus.  

Scena Prima.  Antonio, and Delio, Bosola, Cardinali. Delio. 
you are welcome to your Country (dear Antonio)  
You have been long in France, and you return  
A very formal Frenchman, in your habit.  
How do you like the French Court?  Ant. 
I admire it,  
In seeking to reduce both State, and People  
To a fixed Order, there judicious King  
Begins at home: Quits first his Royal Palace  
Of flattering Sycophants of dissolute,  
And infamous persons which he sweetly terms  
His Master's Masterpiece (the work of Heaven)  
Considering duly, that a PRINCE's Court  
Is like a common Fountain, whence should flow,  
Pure silver-drops in general: But if 't chance  
Some cursed example poison't near the head,  
"Death, and diseases through the whole land spread.  
And what is't makes this blessed government,  
But a most provident Council, who dare freely  
Inform him, the corruption of the times?  
Though some o'th' Court hold it presumption  
To instruct Princes what they ought to do,  
It is a noble duty to inform them  
What they ought to foresee: Here comes Bosola  
The only Court-Gall: yet I observe his railing  
Is not for simple love of Piety:  
Indeed he rails at those things which he wants,  
Would be as lecherous, covetous, or proud,  
Bloody, or envious, as any man,  
If he had means to be so: Here's the Cardinal.  Bos. 
I do haunt you still.  Car. 
So.  Bos. 
I have done you  
Better service than to be slighted thus:  
Miserable age, where only the reward  
Of doing well, is the doing of it.  Car. 
You enforce your merit too-much.  Bos. 
I fell into the Galleys in your service,  
Where, for two years together, I wore two Towels in stead of  
A shirt, with a knot on the shoulder, after the fashion of a  
Roman Mantle: Slighted thus? I will thrive some way:  
Blackbirds fatten best in hard weather: why not I,  
In these dog days?  Car. 
Would you could become honest,  Bos. 
With all your divinity, do but direct me the way to it, I  
Have known many travel far for it, and yet return as  
Arrant knaves, as they went forth; because they carried  
Themselves always along with them; Are you gone?  
Some fellows (they say) are possessed with the devil,  
But this great fellow, were able to possess the greatest  
Devil, and make him worse.  Ant. 
He hath denied thee some suit?  Bos. 
He, and his brother, are like Plum-trees (that grow crooked  
Over standing-pools) they are rich, and o'erladen with  
Fruit, but none but Crows, Pies, and Caterpillars feed  
On them: Could I be one of their flattering Panders, I  
Would hang on their ears like a horseleech, till I were full, an  
Then drop off: I pray leave me.  
Who would rely upon these miserable dependences, in expectation to  
Be advanced tomorrow? what creature, ever fed worse, then hoping  
Tantalus? nor ever did any man more fearfully, than he that hoped  
For a pleadon: There are rewards for hawks, and dogs, and  
When they have done us service; but for a Soldier, that hazards his  
Limbs in a battle, nothing but a kind of Geometry, is his last Supportation.  Del. 
Geometry?  Bos. 
ay, to hang in a fair pair of slings, take his latter-swing in the  
World, upon an honourable pare of crutches, from hospital  
To hospital, fare ye well Sir. And yet do not you scorn us, for  
Places in the Court, are but likes beds in the hospital, where this  
Man's head lies at that man's foot, and so lower, and lower.  Del. 
I knew this fellow (seven years) in the Galleys,  
For a notorious murder, and 'twas thought  
The Cardinal suborned it: he was released  
By the French General (Gaston de Foux)  
When he recovered Naples.  Ant. 
'Tis great pity  
He should be thus neglected, I have heard  
He's very valiant: This foul melancholy  
Will poison all his goodness, for (I'll tell you)  
If too immoderate sleep, be truly said  
To be an inward rust unto the soul;  
It then doth follow want of action  
Breeds all black malcontents, and their close rearing  
(Like moths in cloth) do hurt for want of wearing.   

SCENA II.  Antonio, Delio, Ferdinand, Cardinal, Duchess, Castruchio, Silvio, Rodorico, Grisolan, Bosola, julia, Cariola. Del. 
The Presence begins to fill, you promised me  
To make me the partaker of the natures  
Of some of your great Courtiers.  Ant. 
The Lord Cardinals  
And other strangers, that are now in Court,  
I Shall: here comes the great Calabrian Duke.  Ferd. 
Who took the Ring oftenest?  Sil. 
Antonia Bologna (my Lord)  Ferd. 
Our Sister duchess great Master of her household?  
Give him the jewel: when shall we leave this sportive-action,  
And fall to action indeed?  Cast. 
methinks (my Lord)  
You should not desire to go to war, in person.  Fer. 
Now, for some gravity: why (my Lord?)  Cast. 
It is fitting a Soldier arise to be a Prince, but not necessary  
A Prince descend to be a Captain?  Ferd. 
Noah?  Cast. 
No, (my Lord)  
He were far better do it by a Deputy.  Ferd. 
Why should he not as well sleep, or eat, by a Deputy?  
This might take idle, offensive, and base office from him,  
Whereas the other deprives him of honour.  Cast. 
Believe my experience: that Realm is never long in quiet,  
Where the Ruler, is a Soldier.  Ferd. 
Thou toldst me  
Thy wife could not endure fighting.  Cast. 
True (my Lord.)  Fred. 
And of a jest, she broke of a Captain;  
She met, full of wounds: I have forgot it.  Cast. 
She told him (my Lord) he was a pitiful fellow, to lie,  
Like the Children of Ismael all in Tents.  Ferd. 
Why, there's a wit were able to undo  
All the Chirurgeons o'the City, for although  
Gallants should quarrel, and had drawn their weapons,  
And were ready to go to it; yet her persuasions would  
Make them put up.  Cast. 
That she would (my Lord)  
How do you like my Spanish jennet?  Rod. 
He is all fire.  Ferd. 
I am of Pliney's opinion, I think he was begot by the wind,  
He runs, as if he were ballassed with Quicksilver.  Sil. 
True (my Lord) he reels from the Tilt-often.  Rod. Gris. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Ferd. 
Why do you laugh? methinks you that are Courtiers  
Should be my touchwood, take fire, when I give fire;  
That is, laugh when I laugh, were the subject never so witty,  Cast. 
True (my Lord) I myself have heard a very good jest,  
And have scorned to seem to have so silly a wit, as to understand it.  Ferd. 
But I can laugh at your Fool (my Lord.)  Cast. 
He cannot speak (you know) but he makes faces,  
My Lady cannot abide him.  Ferd. 
Noah?  Cast. 
Nor endure to be in merry Company: for she says  
Too much laughing, and too much Company, fills her  
Too full of the wrinkle.  Ferd. 
I would then have a Mathematical Instrument made for  
Her face, that she might not laugh out of compass: I shall shortly  
Visit you at Milan (Lord Silvio.)  Sil. 
Your Grace shall arrive most welcome.  Ferd. 
You are a good Horseman (Antonio) you have excellent  
Riders in France, what do you think of good Horsemanship?  Ant. 
Nobly (my Lord) as out of the Grecian-horse, issued  
Many famous Princes: So, out of brave Horsemanship,  
Arise the first Sparks of growing resolution, that raise  
The mind, to noble action.  Ferd. 
You have bespoke it worthily.  Sil. 
Your brother, the Lord Cardinal, and sister Duchess.  Card. 
Are the Galleys come about?  Gris. 
They are (my Lord.)  Ferd. 
Here's the Lord Silvio, is come to take his leave.  Del. 
Now (Sir) your promise: what's that Cardinal?  
I mean his Temper? they say he's a brave fellow,  
Will play his five thousand crowns, at Tennis, Dance,  
Court Ladies, and one that hath fought single Combats.  Ant. 
Some such flashes superficially hang on him, for form:  
But observe his inward Character: he is a melancholy  
Churchman: The Spring in his face, is nothing but the  
Engendering of Toads: where he is jealous of any man.  
He lays worse plots for them, then ever was imposed on  
Hercules: for he strews in his way Flatters, Panders,  
Intelligencers, Atheists,: and a thousand such political  
Monsters: he should have been Pope: but in stead of  
Coming to it, by the primitive decency of the church,  
He did bestow bribes, so largely, and so impudently, as if he would  
Have carried it away without heaven's knowledge. Some good he Hath done.  Del. 
You have given too much of him: what's his brother?  Ant. 
The Duke there? a most perverse, and turbulent Nature,  
What appears in him mirth, is merely outside,  
If he laugh heartily, it is to laugh  
All honesty out of fashion.  Del. 
Twins?  Ant. 
In quality:  
He speaks with other's Tongues, and hears men's suits,  
With others Ears: will seem to sleep o'th' bench  
Only to entrap offenders, in their answers;  
dooms men to death, by information,  
Rewards, by hearsay.  Del. 
Then the Law to him  
Is like a foul black cobweb, to a Spider,  
He makes it his dwelling, and a prison  
To entangle those shall feed him.  Ant. 
Most true:  
He ne'er pays debts, unless they be showed turns,  
And those he will confess, that he doth owe,  
Last: for his brother, there, (the Cardinal)  
They that do flatter him most, say Oracles  
Hang at his lips: and verily I believe them:  
For the Devil speaks in them.  
But for their sister, (the right noble Duchess)  
You never fixed you eye, on three fair Medals,  
Cast in one figure, of so different temper:  
For her discourse, it is so full of Rapture,  
You only will begin, than to be sorry  
When she doth end her speech: and wish (in wonder)  
She held it less vainglory, to talk much  
Then your penance, to hear her: whilst she speaks,  
She throws upon a man, so sweet a look,  
That it were able raise one to a Galliard  
That lay in a dead palsy; and to dote  
On that sweet countenance: but in that look,  
There speaketh so divine a continence,  
As cuts off all lascivious, and vain hope.  
Her days are practised in such noble virtue,  
That, sure her nights (nay more her very Sleeps)  
Are more in Heaven, then other ladies' Shrifts.  
Let all sweet Ladies, break their flattering Glasses,  
And dress themselves in her.  Del. 
Fie Antonio,  
You play the wiredrawer with her commendations.  Ant. 
I'll case the picture up: only thus much,  
All her particular worth, grows to this some:  
She stains the time passed: lights the time to come,  Cariola. 
You must attend my Lady, in the gallery,  
Some half an hour hence.  Ant. 
I shall.  Ferd. 
Sister, I have a suit to you:  Duch. 
To me, Sir?  Ferd. 
A Gentleman here: Daniel de Bosola:  
One, that was in the Galleys.  Duch. 
Yes, I know him:  Ferd. 
A worthy fellow he's: pray let me entreat for  
The provisorship of your horse.  Duch. 
Your knowledge of him,  
Commends him, and prefers him.  Ferd. 
Call him hither,  
we now upon parting: Good Lord Silvio  
Do us commend to all our noble friends  
At the Leagues.  Sil. 
Sir, I shall.  Ferd. 
You are for Milan?  Sil. 
I am:  Duch. 
Bring the Caroches: we'll bring you down to the Haven.  Car. 
Be sure you entertain that Bosola  
For your Intelligence: I would not be seen in't.  
And therefore many times I have slighted him,  
When he did court our furtherance: as this Morning.  Ferd. 
Antonio, the great Master of her household  
Had been far fitter:  Card. 
You are deceived in him,  
His Nature is too honest for such business,  
He comes: I'll leave you:  Bos. 
I was lured to you.  Ferd. 
My brother here (the Cardinal) could never abide you.  Bos. 
Never since he was in my debt.  Ferd. 
May be some oblique character in your face, made him suspect you?  Bos. 
Doth he study physiognomy?  
There's no more credit, to be given to th'face,  
Then to a sick man's urine, which some call  
The physician's whore, because she cozens him:  
He did suspect me wrongfully:  Ferd. 
For that  
You must give great men leave to take their times:  
Distrust, doth cause us seldom be deceived;  
You see, the oft shaking of the Cedar-Tree  
Fastens it more at root.  Bos. 
Yet take heed:  
For to suspect a friend unworthily,  
Instructs him the next way to suspect you,  
And prompts him to deceive you.  Berd. 
There's gold.  Bos. 
So:  
What follows? (Never reigned such showers as these  
Without thunderbolts i'th' tail of them;) whose throat must I cut?  Ferd. 
Your inclination to shed blood, rides post  
Before my occasion to use you: I give you that  
To live i'th' Court, here: and observe the Duchess,  
To note all the particulars of her behaviour:  
What suitors do solicit her for marriage  
And whom she best affects: she's a young widow,  
I would not have her marry again.  Bos. 
No, Sir?  Ferd. 
Do not you ask the reason: but be satisfied,  
I say I would not.  Bos. 
It seems you would create me  
One of your familiars.  Ferd. 
Familiar? what's that?  Bos. 
Why, a very quaint invisible Devil, in flesh:  
An Intelligencer.  Ferd. 
Such a kind of thriving thing  
I would wish thee: and ere long, thou mayst arrive  
At a higher place by't.  Bos. 
Take your Devils  
Which Hell calls Angels: these cursed gifts would make  
You a corrupter, me an impudent traitor,  
And should I take these they'd take me Hell.  Fer. 
Sir, I'll take nothing from you, that I have given:  
There is a place, that I procured for you  
This morning: (the Provisorship o'th' horse)  
Have you heard on't?  Bos. 
Noah.  Fer. 
'Tis yours, is't not worth thanks?  Bos. 
I would have you curse yourself now, that your bounty  
(Which makes men truly noble) ere should make  
Me a villain: oh, that to avoid ingratitude  
For the good deed you have done me, I must do  
All the ill man can invent: Thus the Devil  
Candies all sins are: and what Heaven terms vild,  
That names he complemental.  Fer. 
Be yourself:  
Keep your old garb of melancholy: 'twill express  
You envy those that stand above your reach,  
Yet strive not to come near 'em'um: This will gain  
Access, to private lodgings, where yourself  
May (like a politic dormouse,  Bos. 
As I have seen some,  
Feed in a lord's dish, half asleep, not seeming  
To listen to any talk: and yet these Rogues  
Have cut his throat in a dream: what's my place?  
The Provisors-ship o'th' horse? say then my corruption  
Grew out of horse-dung: I am your creature.  Ferd. 
Away.  Bos. 
Let good men, for good deeds, covet good fame,  
Since place, and riches oft are bribes of shame  
Sometimes the Devil doth preach. Exit Bosola.  Card. 
We are to part from you: and your own discretion  
Must now be your director.  Ferd. 
You are a Widow:  
You know already what man is: and therefore  
Let not youth: high promotion, eloquence,  Card. 
No, nor any thing without the addition, Honour,  
Sway your high blood.  Ferd. 
Marry? they are most luxurious,  
Will wed twice.  Card. 
O fie:  Ferd. 
Their livers are more spotted  
Than Laban's sheep.  Duch. 
Diamonds are of most value  
They say; that have passed through most jewellers hands.  Ferd. 
Whores, by that rule, are precious:  Duch. 
Will you hear me?  
I'll never marry:  Card. 
So most Widows say:  
But commonly that motion lasts no longer  
Than the turning of an hourglass, the funeral Sermon,  
And it, end both together.  Ferd. 
Now hear me:  
You live in a rank pasture here, i'th' Court,  
There is a kind of honey-dew, that's deadly:  
'Twill poison your fame; look to't: be not cunning:  
For they whose faces do belie their hearts,  
Are Witches, ere they arrive at twenty years,  
I: and give the devil suck.  Duch. 
This is terrible good council:  Ferd. 
Hypocrisy is woven of a fine small thread,  
(Subtler, than Vulcan's Engine: yet (believe't)  
Your darkest actions: nay, your privat'st thoughts,  
Will come to light.  Card. 
You may flatter yourself,  
And take your own choice: privately be married  
Under the eaves of night.  Ferd. 
Think't the best voyage  
That ere you made; like the irregular Crab,  
Which though't goes backward, thinks that it goes, right,  
Because it goes its own way: but observe;  
Such weddings, may more properly be said  
To be executed, then celebrated.  Card. 
The marriage night  
Is the entrance into some prison.  Ferd. 
And those joys,  
Those lustful pleasures, are like heavy sleeps  
Which do forerun man's mischief  Card. 
Fare you well.  
Wisdom begins at the end: remember it.  Duch. 
I think this speech between you both was studied,  
It came so roundly off.  Ferd. 
You are my sister,  
This was my Father's poniard: do you see,  
I'd be loath to see't look rusty, 'cause 'twas his:  
I would have you to give over these chargeable Revels;  
A Vizor, and a Masque are whispering rooms  
That were ne'er built for goodness: fare ye well:  
And women, like that part, which (like the Lamprey)  
Hath ne'er a bone in't.  Duch. 
Fie Sir:  Ferd. 
Nay,  
I mean the Tongue: variety of Courtship;  
What cannot a neat knave with a smooth tale,  
Make a woman believe? farewell, lusty Widow.  Duch. 
Shall this move me? if all my royal kindred  
Lay in my way, unto this marriage:  
I'd make them my low footsteps: And even now,  
Even in this hate (as men in some great battles  
By apprehending danger, have achieved  
Almost impossible actions: I have heard Soldiers say so,  
So I, through frights, and threatenings, will assay  
This dangerous venture: Let old wife's report  
I winked, and chose a husband: Cariola,  
To thy known secrecy, I have given up  
More than my life, my fame:  Carolia. 
Both shall be safe:  
For I'll conceal this secret from the world  
As warily as those that trade in poison,  
Keep poison from their children.  Duch. 
Thy protestation  
Is ingenious, and hearty: I believe it.  
Is Antonio come?  Cariola. 
He attends you:  Duch. 
Good dear soul,  
Leave me: but place thyself behind the Arras,  
Where thou mayst overhear us: wish me good speed  
For I am going into a wilderness,  
Where I shall find nor path, nor friendly clue  
To be my guide, I sent for you, Sir down:  
Take Pen and Ink, and write: are you ready?  Ant. 
Yes:  Duch. 
What did I say?  Ant. 
That I should write somewhat.  Duch. 
Oh, I remember:  
After this triumphs, and this large expense  
It's fit (like thrifty husbands) we inquire  
What's laid up for tomorrow:  Ant. 
So please your beauteous Excellence.  Duch. 
Beauteous? Indeed I thank you: I look yong for your sake.  
You have ta'en my cares upon you.  Ant. 
I'll fetch your Grace the  
Particulars of your revenue, and expense.  Duch. 
Oh, you are an upright treasurer: but you mistook,  
For when I said I meant to make enquiry,  
What's laid up for tomorrow: I did mean  
What's laid up yonder for me.  Ant. 
Where?  Duch. 
In Heaven,  
I am making my will, (as 'tis fit Princes should  
In perfect memory) and I pray Sir, tell me  
Were not one better make it smiling, thus?  
Then in deep groans, and terrible ghastly looks,  
As if the gifts we parted with, procured  
That violent destruction?  Ant. 
Oh, much better.  Duch. 
If I had a husband now, this care were quit:  
But I intend to make yond Overseer;  
What good deed, shall we first remember? say.  Ant. 
Begin with that first good deed, began i'th' world,  
After man's creation, the Sacrament of marriage,  
I'd have you first provide for a good husband,  
Give him all.  Duch. 
All?  Ant. 
Yes, your excellent self.  Duch. 
In a winding sheet?  Ant. 
In a couple.  Duch. 
St. Winfrid, that were a strange will.  Ant. 
'Twere strange if there were no will in you  
To marry again.  Duch. 
What do you think of marriage?  Ant. 
I take't, as those that deny Purgatory,  
It locally contains, or heaven, or hell,  
There's no third place in't.  Duch. 
How do you affect it?  Ant. 
My banishment, feeding my melancholy,  
Would often reason thus.  Duch. 
Pray let's hear it.  Ant. 
Say a man never marry, nor have children,  
What takes that from him? only the bare name  
Of being a father, or the weak delight  
To see the little wanton, ride a cockhorse  
Upon a painted stick, or hear him chatter  
Like a taught Starling.  Duch. 
Fie, fie, what's all this?  
One of your eyes is bloodshot, use my Ring to't,  
They say 'tis very sovereign, 'twas my wedding Ring,  
And I did vow never to part with it,  
But to my second husband.  Ant. 
You have parted with it now.  Duch. 
Yes, to help your eyesight.  Ant. 
You have made me stark blind.  Duch. 
How?  Ant. 
There is a saucy, and ambitious devil  
Is dancing in this circle.  Duch. 
Remove him.  Ant. 
How?  Duch. 
There needs small conjuration, when your finger  
May do it: thus, is it fit?  Ant. 
What said you? he kneels  Duch. 
Sir,  
This goodly roof of yours, it too low built,  
I cannot stand upright in't, nor discourse,  
Without I raise it higher: raise yourself,  
Or if you please, my hand to help you: so.  Ant. 
Ambition (Madam) is a great man's madness,  
That is not kept in chains, and close-pent-rooms,  
But in fair lightsome lodgings, and is girt  
With the wild noise of prattling visitans,  
Which makes it lunatic, beyond all cure,  
Conceive not, I am so stupid, but I aim  
Whereto your favours tend: But he's a fool  
That (being a cold) would thrust his hands i'th' fire  
To warm them.  Duch. 
So, now the ground's broke,  
You may discover what a wealthy Mine,  
I make you Lord off.  Ant. 
Oh my unworthiness.  Duch. 
You were ill to sell yourself,  
This darkening of your worth, is not like that  
Which tradesmen use i'th' City, their false lights  
Are to rid bad wares off: and I must tell you  
If you will know where breathes a complete man,  
(I speak it without flattery) turn your eyes,  
And progress through yourself.  Ant. 
Were there nor heaven, nor hell,  
I should be honest: I have long served virtue,  
And ne'er ta'en wages of her.  Duch. 
Now she pays it,  
The misery of us, that are borne great,  
We are forced to woo, because none dare woo us:  
And as a Tyrant doubles with his words,  
And fearfully equivocates: so we  
Are forced to express our violent passions  
In riddles, and in dreams, and leave the path  
Of simple virtue, which was never made  
To seem the thing it is not: Go, go brag  
You have left me heartless, mine is in your bosom,  
I hope 'twill multiply love there: You do tremble:  
Make not your heart so dead a piece of flesh  
To fear, more than to love me: Sir, be confident,  
What is't distracts you? This is flesh, and blood, (Sir,)  
'Tis not the figure cut in alablaster  
Kneels at my husband's tomb: Awake, awake (man)  
I do here put of all vain ceremony,  
And only do appear to you, a young widow  
That claims you for her husband, and like a widow,  
I use but half a blush in't.  Ant. 
Truth speak for me,  
I will remain the constant Sanctuary  
Of your good name.  Duch. 
I thank you (gentle love)  
And 'cause you shall not come to me, in debt,  
(Being now my Steward) here upon your lips  
I sign your Quietus est: This you should have begged now,  
I have seen children oft eat sweetmeats thus,  
As fearful to devour them too soon.  Ant. 
But for your Brothers?  Duch. 
Do not think of them,  
All discord, without this circumference,  
Is only to be pitied, and not feared:  
Yet, should they know it, time will easily  
Scatter the tempest.  Ant. 
These words should be mine,  
And all the parts you have spoke, if some part of it  
Would not have savoured flattery.  Duch. 
Kneel.  Ant. 
Hah?  Duch. 
Be not amazed, this woman's of my Council,  
I have heard Lawyers say, a contract in a Chamber,  
(Per verba presenti) is absolute marriage:  
Bless (Heaven) this sacred Gordian, which, let violence  
Never untwine.  Ant. 
And may our sweet affections, (like the Spheres)  
Be still in motion.  Duch. 
Quickening, and make  
The like soft Music.  Ant. 
That we may imitate the loving Palms  
(Best Emblem of a peaceful marriage)  
That ne'er bore fruit divided.  Duch. 
What can the Church force more?  Ant. 
That Fortune may not know an accident  
Either of joy, or sorrow, to divide  
Our fixed wishes.  Duch. 
How can the Church build faster?  
We now are man, and wife, and 'tis the Church  
That must but echo this: Maid, stand a part,  
I now am blind.  Ant. 
What's your conceit in this?  Duch. 
I would have you lead your Fortune by the hand.  
Unto your marriage bed:  
(You speak in me this, for we now are one)  
We'll only lie, and talk together, and plot  
T'appease my humorous kindred; and if you please  
(Like the old tale, in Alexander and Lodowick)  
Lay a naked sword between us, keep us chaste:  
Oh, let me shroud my blushes in your bosom,  
Since 'tis the treasury of all my secrets.  Car. 
Whether the spirit of greatness, or of woman  
Reign most in her, I know not, but it shows  
A fearful madness, I owe her much of pity. Exeunt.    

ACTVS II.  

SCENA I.  Bosola, Castruchio, an Old Lady, Antonio, Delio, duchess, Rodorico, Grisolan. Bos. 
You say you would fain be taken, for an eminent courtier?  Cast. 
'Tis the very main of my ambition.  Bos. 
Let me see, you have a reasonable good face for't already,  
And your nightcap expresses your ears sufficient largely,  
I would have you learn to twirl the strings of your band with a  
Good grace; and in a set speech, (at th'end of every sentence,)  
To hum, three, or four times, or blow your nose (till it smart again,)  
To recover your memory, when you come to be a precedent in  
Criminal causes, if you smile upon a prisoner, hang him, but if  
You frown upon him, and threaten him, let him be sure to scape  
The Gallows.  Cast. 
I would be a very merry precedent,  Bos. 
Do not sup a-nights, 'twill beget you an admirable wit.  Cast. 
Rather it would make me have a good stomach to quarrel,  
For they say, you roaring-boys eat meat seldom,  
And that makes them so valiant:  
But how shall I know whether the people take me  
For an eminent fellow.  Bos. 
I will teach a trick to know it,  
Give out you lie a dying, and if you  
Hear the common people curse you,  
Be sure you are taken for one of the prime nightcaps,  
You come from painting now?  Old Lady. 
From what?  Bos. 
Why, from your scurvy face-physic,  
To behold thee not painted inclines somewhat near  
A miracle: These in thy face here, were deep ruts,  
And foul sloughs the last progress:  
There was a Lady in France, that having had the small pocks,  
Flayed the skin off her face, to make it more level;  
And whereas before she looked like a Nutmeg-grater,  
After she resembled an abortive hedgehog.  Old Lady. 
Do you call this painting?  Bos. 
No, no but you call careening of an old  
Morphewed Lady, to make her disembogue again,  
There's roughcast phrase to your plastic.  Old Lady. 
It seems you are well acquainted with my closet?  Bos. 
One would suspect it for a shop of witchcraft,  
To find in it the fat of Serpents; spawn of Snakes, jews spital,  
And their young children ordures, and all these for the face:  
I would sooner eat a dead pigeon, taken from the soles of the feet  
Of one sick of the plague, then kiss one of you fasting:  
Here are two of you, whose sin of your youth, is the very  
Patrimony of the Physician, makes him renew his  
foot-cloth with the Spring, and change his  
High-prized courtesan with the fall of the leaf:  
I do wonder you do not loathe yourselves,  
Observe my meditation now:  
What thing is in this outward form of man  
To be beloved? we account it ominous,  
If Nature do produce a Colt, or Lamb,  
A Fawn, or Goat, in any limb resembling  
A Man; and fly from't as a prodigy.  
Man stands amazed to see his deformity,  
In any other Creature but himself.  
But in our own flesh, though we bear diseases  
Which have their true names, only ta'en from beasts,  
As the most ulcerous Wolf, and swinish Measel;  
Though we are eaten up of lice, and worms,  
And though continually we bear about us  
A rotten and dead body, we delight  
To hide it in rich tissue all our fear,  
(Nay all our terror) is, lest our Physician  
Should put us in the ground, to be made sweet.  
Your wife's gone to Rome: you two couple, and get you  
To the wells at Leuca, to recover your aches.  
I have other work on foot: I observe our Duchess  
Is sick adays, she pukes, her stomach seethes,  
The fins of her eyelids, look most teeming blue,  
She wanes i'th' cheek, and waxes fat i'th' flank;  
And (contrary to our Italian fashion,)  
Wears a loose-bodied Gown, there's somewhat in't,  
I have a trick, may chance discover it  
(A pretty one) I have bought some apricocks,  
The first our Spring yields.  Del. 
And so long since married?  
You amaze me.  Ant. 
Let me seal your lips for ever,  
For did I think, that any thing but th'air,  
Could carry these words from you, I should wish  
You had no breath at all: Now Sir, in your contemplation?  
You are studying to become a great wise fellow?  Bos. 
Oh Sir, the opinion of wisdom, is a foul tetter,  
That runs all over a man's body: if simplicity  
Direct us to have no evil, it directs us to a happy  
Being: For the subtlest folly proceeds from the  
Subtlest wisdom: Let me be simply honest.  Ant. 
I do understand your inside.  Bos. 
Do you so?  Ant. 
Because you would not seem to appear to th'world  
Puffed up with your preferment: You continue  
This out off fashion melancholy, leave it, leave it.  Bos. 
Give me leave to be honest in any phrase, in any  
Compliment whatsoever, shall I confess myself to you?  
I look no higher than I can reach:  
They are the gods, that must ride on winged horses,  
A lawyer's mule of a slow pace, will both surt  
My disposition, and business: For (mark me)  
When a man's mind rides faster than his horse can gallop,  
They quickly both tire.  Ant. 
You would look up to Heaven, but I think  
The Devil, that rules i'th' air, stands in your light.  Bos. 
Oh (Sir) you are Lord of the ascendant,  
Chief man with the Duchess, a Duke was your  
x German, removed: Say you were lineally  
Descended from King Pippin, or he himself,  
What of this? search the heads of the greatest rivers in  
The World, you shall find them but bubbles of water:  
Some would think the souls of Princes were brought  
Forth by some more weighty cause, than those of meaner persons,  
They are deceived, there's the same hand to them:  
The like passions sway them, the same reason, that makes  
A Vicar go to Law for a tithe-pig,  
And undo his neighbours, makes them spoil  
A whole Province, and batter down goodly  
Cities, with the Cannon.  Duch. 
Your arm Antonio, do I not grow fat?  
I am exceeding short-winded: Bosola,  
I would have you (Sir) provide for me a Litter,  
Such a one, as the Duchess of Florence road in.  Bos. 
The Duchess used one, when she was great with child.  Duch. 
I think she did: come hither, mend my ruff,  
Here, when? thou art such a tedious Lady; and  
Thy breath smells of lemon pills, would thou hadst done,  
Shall I sound under thy fingers? I am  
So troubled with the mother.  Bos. 
I fear too much.  Duch. 
I have heard you say, that the French Couriers  
Wear their hats on fore the King.  Ant. 
I have seen it.  Duch. 
In the Presence?  Ant. 
Yes:  
Why should not we bring up that fashion?  
'Tis ceremony more than duty, that consists  
In the removing of a piece of felt:  
Be you the example to the rest o'th' Court,  
Put on your hat first.  Ant. 
You must pardon me:  
I have seen, in colder countries, then in France,  
Nobles stand bare to th'Prince; and the distinction  
My thought showed reverently.  Bos. 
I have a present for your Grace.  Duch. 
For me sir?  Bos. 
Apricots (Madam.)  Duch. 
O sir, where are they?  
I have heard of none to year.  Bos. 
Good, her colour rises.  Duch. 
Indeed I thank you: they are wondrous fair ones:  
What an unskilful fellow is our Gardener?  
We shall have none this month.  Bos. 
Will not your Grace pare them?  Duch. 
No, they taste of musk( methinks) indeed they do:  Bos. 
I know not: yet I wish your Grace had pared'em:  Duch. 
Why?  Bos. 
I forgot to tell you the knave Gardner,  
(Only to raise his profit by them the sooner)  
Did ripen them in horse-dung.  Duchess 
O you jest:  
You shall judge: pray taste one.  Ant. 
Indeed Madam,  
I do not love the fruit.  Duch. 
Sir, you are loath  
To rob us of our dainties: 'tis a delicate fruit,  
They say they are restorative?  Bos. 
'Tis a pretty  
Art: this grafting.  Duch. 
'Tis so: a bettering of nature.  Bos. 
To make a pippin grow upon a crab,  
A damson on a black thorn: how greedily she eats them!  
A whirlwind strike off these bawd-farthingales,  
For, but for that, and the loose-bodied gown,  
I should have discovered apparently  
The young spring-hall cutting a caper in her belly.  Duch. 
I thank you (Bosola:) they were right good ones,  
If they do not make me sick.  Ant. 
How now madam?  Duch. 
This green fruit: and may stomach are not friends  
How they swell me!  Bos. 
Nay, you are too much swelled already.  Duch. 
Oh, I am in an extreme cold sweat.  Bos. 
I am very sorry:  Duch. 
Lights to my chamber: O, good Antonio,  
I fear I am undone. Exit duchess.  Del. 
Lights there, lights.  Ant. 
O my most trusty Delio, we are lost:  
I fear she's fall'n in labour: and there's left  
No time for her remove.  Del. 
Have you prepared  
Those Ladies to attend her? and procured  
That politic safe conveyance for the Midwife  
Your Duchess plotted.  Ant. 
I have:  Del. 
Make use then of this forced occasion:  
Give out that Bosola hath poisoned her,  
With these Apricots: that will give some colour  
For her keeping close.  Ant. 
Fie, fie, the Physicians  
Will then flock to her.  Del. 
For that you may pretend  
She'll use some prepared Antidote of her own,  
lest the Physicians should repoison her.  Ant. 
I am lost in amazement: I know not what to think on't. Ex.   

SCENA. II.  Bosola, old Lady, Antonio, Rodorigo, Grisolan: servants, Delio, Cariola. Bos. 
So, so: there's no question but her tetchiness  
And most vulturous eating of the Apricots, are apparent  
Signs of breeding, 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 La. 
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 La. 
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 bear ripe and green  
Fruit and blossoms altogether: 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 Danes still, to hold up their  
Laps to receive them: didst thou never study the Mathematics?  Old La. 
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 a woman's girdle;  
Like a false rusty watch that she cannot discern how  
The time passes.  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'th' Court.  Gris. 
I shall instantly:  Ant. 
Who keeps the key o'th' Park-gate?  Rod. 
Forobosco.  Ant. 
Let him bring't presently.  Servant. 
Oh, Gentlemen, o'th' Court, the foulest treason.  Bos. 
If that these Apricots should be poisoned, now;  
Without my knowledge.  Seru. 
There was taken even now a Swisser  
In the Duchess Bedchamber.  2. Seru. 
A Swisser?  Seru. 
With a Pistol in his great codpiece.  Bos. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Seru. 
The codpiece was the case for't.  2. Ser. 
There was a cunning traitor.  
Who would have searched his codpiece?  Seru. 
True, if he had kept out of the ladies' chambers:  
And all the molds of his buttons, were leaden bullets.  2. Seru. 
Oh wicked Cannibal: a firelock in's codpiece?  Seru. 
'Twas a French plot upon my life.  2. Ser. 
To see what the Devil can do.  Ant. 
All the Offices here?  Seru. 
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?  Ser. 
Yes.  Ant. 
'Tis the Duchess pleasure  
Each Officer be locked into his chamber  
Till the Sunrising: and to send the keys  
Of all their chests, and of their outward doors  
Into her bedchamber: 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'th' Woodyard, where's your Swisser now?  Seru. 
By this hand 'twas credibly reported by one o'th' Blackguard.  Del. 
How fares it with the Duchess?  Ant. 
She's exposed  
Unto the worst of torture, pain, and fear;  Del. 
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.  Del. 
Do not doubt me,  Ant. 
Oh, 'Tis far from me: and yet fear presents me  
Somewhat that look like danger.  Del. 
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.  Cariola. 
Sir, you are the happy father of a son,  
Your wife commends him to you.  Ant. 
Blessed comfort:  
For heaven-sake tend her well: I'll presently  
Go set a figure for's Nativity. Exeunt.   

SCENA. III.  Bosola, Antonio. Bos. 
Sure I did hear a woman shriek: list, hah?  
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: hah? Antonio?  Ant. 
I heard some noise: whose'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?  
(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 nightwalker.  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. 
This fellow will undo me;  
You gave the Duchess Apricots today,  
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 stolen 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?  Ant. 
You Libel well (sir.)  Bos. 
No (sir,)  
Copy it out: and I will set my hand to't.  Ant. 
My nose bleeds: One that were superstitious, would count  
This ominous: when it merely comes by chance.  
Two letters, that are wrought here, for my name  
Are drowned in blood: mere accident: for you (sir) I'll take order:  
I'th' morn you shall be safe: '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 quite yourself;  
The Great are like the Base; nay, they are the same.  
When they seek shameful ways, to avoid shame. Ex.  Bos. 
Antonio here about, did drop a Paper,  
Some of your help (false-friend) oh, here it is:  
What's here? a child's Nativity calculated?  
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 eight house, doth threaten a violent death; Caeteta 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 Castruchio  
I'th' morning posts to Rome; by him I'll send  
A Letter, that shall make her brother's 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.   

SCENA. IIII.  Cardinal, and julia, Servant, and Delio. Card. 
Sit: thou art my best of wishes, prithee tell me  
What trick didst thou invent to come to Rome,  
Without thy husband.  Iul. 
Why, (my Lord) I told him  
I came to visit an old Anchorite  
Hear, for devotion  Card. 
Thou art a witty false one:  
I mean to him.  Iul. 
You have prevailed with me  
Beyond my strongest thoughts: I would not now  
Find you inconstant.  Card. 
Do not put thyself  
To such a voluntary torture: which proceeds  
Out of your own guilt.  Iul, 
How (my Lord?)  Card. 
You fear my constancy, because you have approved  
Those giddy and wild turning in yourself.  Iul. 
Did you ere find them?  Card. 
Sooth generally for women;  
A man might strive to make glass malleable,  
Ere he should make them fixed.  Iul. 
So, (my Lord)  Card. 
We had need go borrow that fantastic glass  
Invented by Galileo the Florentine,  
To view another spacious world i'th' Moon,  
And look to find a constant woman there.  Iul. 
This is very well (my Lord.)  Card. 
Why do you weep?  
Are tears your justification? the selfsame tears  
Will fall into your husband's bosom, (Lady)  
With a loud protestation, that you love him  
Above the world: Come, i'll love you wisely,  
That's jealously, since I am very certain  
You cannot me make cuckold.  Iul. 
I'll go home  
To my husband.  Card. 
You may thank me, (Lady)  
I have taken you off your melancholy perch,  
Boar you upon my fist, and showed you 'game,  
And let you fly at it: I pray thee kiss me,  
When thou was't with thy husband, thou was't watched  
Like a tame elephant: (still you are to thank me)  
Thou hadst only kisses from him, and high feeding,  
But what delight was that? 'twas just like one  
That hath a little lingering on the Lute,  
Yet cannot tune it: (still you are to thank me.)  Iul. 
You told me of a piteous wound i'th' heart,  
And a sick liver, when you wooed me first,  
And spoke like one in physic.  Card. 
Who's that?  
Rest firm, for my affection to thee,  
Lightning moves slow to't.  Ser. 
(Madam) a Gentleman  
That's come post from Malfi, desires to see you.  Car. 
Let him enter, i'll withdraw. Exit.  Ser. 
He says,  
Your husband, (old Castruchio) is come to Rome,  
Most pitifully tired with riding post.  Iul. 
Signior Delio? 'tis one of my old Suitors  Del. 
I was bold to come and see you.  Iul. 
Sir, you are welcome.  Del. 
Do you lie here?  Iul. 
Sure, your own experience  
Will satisfy you no, our Roman Prelates  
Do not keep lodging, for Ladies.  Del. 
Very well:  
I have brought you no commendations from your husband,  
For I know none by him.  Iul. 
I hear he's come to Rome?  Del. 
I never knew man, and beast, of a horse, and a knight,  
So weary of each other, if he had had a good back,  
He would have undertaken to have borne his horse,  
His breech was so pitifully sore.  Iul. 
Your laughter,  
Is my pity.  Del. 
Lady, I know not whether  
You want money, but I have brought you some.  Iul. 
From my husband?  Del. 
No, from mine own allowance.  Iul. 
I must hear the condition, ere I be bound to take it.  Del. 
Look on't, 'tis gold, hath it not a fine colour?  Iul. 
I have a Bird more beautiful.  Del. 
Try the sound on't.  Iul. 
A Lutestring far exceeds it,  
It hath no smell, like Cassia, or Civet,  
Nor is it physical, though some fond Doctors  
Persuade us, seethes in cullises, i'll tell you,  
This is a Creature bred by—  Ser. 
Your husband's come,  
Hath delivered a letter to the Duke of Calabria, that,  
To my thinking hath put him out of his wits.  Iul. 
Sir, you hear,  
Pray let me know your business, and your suit,  
As briefly as can be.  Del. 
With good speed, I would wish you  
(At such time, as you are nonresident  
With your husband) my mistress.  Iul. 
Sir, i'll go ask my husband if I shall,  
And straight return your answer. Exit.  Del. 
Very fine,  
Is this her wit, or honesty that speaks thus?  
I heard one say the Duke was highly moved  
With a letter sent from Malfi: I do fear  
Antonio is betrayed: how fearfully  
Shows his ambition now, (unfortunate Fortune)  
"They pass through whirlpools, and deep woes do shun,  
Who the event weigh, ere the action's done. Exit.   

SCENA V.  Cardinal, and Ferdinand, with a letter. Ferd. 
I have this night digged up a mandrake.  Car. 
Say you?  Ferd. 
And I am grown mad with't.  Car. 
What's the prodigy?  Ferd. 
Read there, a sister dampened, she's loose i'th' hilt:  
Grown a notorious Strumpet.  Car. 
Speak lower.  Ferd. 
Lower?  
rogue's do not whisper't now, but seek to publish't,  
(As servants do the bounty of their Lords)  
Aloud; and with a covetous searching eye,  
To mark who note them: Oh confusion seize her,  
She hath had most cunning bawds to serve her turn,  
And more secure conveyances for lust,  
Than Towns of garrison, for Service.  Card. 
Is't possible?  
Can this be certain?  Ferd. 
rhubarb, oh, for rhubarb  
To purge this choler, here's the cursed day  
To prompt my memory, and here'it shall stick  
Till of her bleeding heart, I make a sponge  
To wipe it out.  Card. 
Why do you make yourself  
So wild a Tempest?  Ferd. 
Would I could be one,  
That I might toss her palace 'bout her ears,  
Root up her goodly forests, blast her meads,  
And lay her general territory as waste,  
As she hath done her honours.  Card. 
Shall our blood?  
(The royal blood of Arragon, and Castille)  
Be thus attainted?  Ferd. 
Apply desperate physic,  
We must not now use Balsamum, but fire,  
The smarting cupping-glass, for that's the mean  
To purge infected blood, (such blood as hers:)  
There is a kind of pity in mine eye,  
I'll give it to my handkercher; and now 'tis here,  
I'll bequeath this to her Bastard.  Card. 
What to do?  Ferd. 
Why, to make soft lint for his mother wounds,  
When I have hewed her to pieces.  Card. 
Cursed creature,  
Unequal nature, to place women's hearts  
So far upon the left-side.  Ferd. 
Foolish men,  
That ere will trust their honour in a Bark,  
Made of so slight, weak-bulrush, as is woman,  
Apt every minute to sink it?  Car. 
Thus  
Ignorance, when it hath purchased honour,  
It cannot wield it.  Ferd. 
methinks I see her laughing,  
Excellent hyena, talk to me somewhat, quickly,  
Or my imagination will carry me  
To see her, in the shameful act of sin.  Card. 
With whom?  Ferd. 
Happily, with some strong thighed Bargeman;  
Or one th'woodyard, that can quoit the sledge,  
Or toss the bar, or else some lovely Squire  
That carries coals up, to her privy lodgings.  Card. 
You fly beyond your reason.  Ferd. 
Go to (Mistress.)  
'Tis not your whore's milk, that shall quench my wildfire,  
But your whore a blood.  Card. 
How idly shows this rage?  
Which carries you, as men conveyed by witches, through the air,  
On violent whirlwinds, this intemperate noise,  
Fitly resembles deaf-men's shrill discourse,  
Who talk aloud, thinking all other men  
To have their imperfection.  Ferd. 
Have not you,  
My palsy?  Card. 
Yes, I can be angry  
Without this rupture, there is not in nature  
A thing, that makes man so deformed, so beastly,  
As doth intemperate anger: chide yourself,  
You have diverse men, who never yet expressed  
Their strong desire of rest, but by unrest,  
By vexing of themselves: Come, put yourself  
In tune.  Ferd. 
So, I will only study to seem  
The thing I am not: I could kill her now,  
In you, or in myself, for I do think  
It is some sin in us, Heaven doth revenge  
By her.  Card. 
Are you stark mad?  Ferd. 
I would have their bodies  
Burnt in a coalpit, with the ventage stopped,  
That their cursed smoke might not ascend to Heaven:  
Or dip the sheets they lie in, in pitch or sulphur,  
Wrap them in't, and then light them like a match:  
Or else to boil their Bastard to a cullis,  
And give't his lecherous father, to renew  
The sin of his back.  Card. 
I'll leave you.  Ferd. 
Nay, I have done,  
I am confident, had I been damned in hell,  
And should have heard of this, it would have put me  
Into a cold sweat: In, in, i'll go sleep,  
Till I know who leaps my sister, i'll not stir:  
That known, i'll find Scorpions to string my whips,  
And fix her in a general eclipse. Exeunt.    

ACTVS III.  

SCENA I.  Antonio, and Delio, duchess, Ferdinand, Bosola. Ant. 
Our noble friend (my most beloved Delio)  
Oh, you have been a stranger long at Court,  
Came you along with the Lord Ferdinand?  Del. 
I did Sir, and how fairs your noble Duchess?  Ant. 
Right fortunately well: She's an excellent  
Feeder of pedigrees: since you last saw her,  
She hath had two children more, a son, and daughter.  Del. 
methinks 'twas yesterday: Let me but wink,  
And not behold your face, which to mine eye  
Is somewhat leaner, verily I should dream  
It were within this half hour.  Ant. 
You have not been in Law, (friend Delio)  
Nor in prison, nor a Suitor at the Court  
Nor begged the reversion of some great man's place,  
Nor troubled with an old wife, which doth make  
Your time so insensibly hasten.  Del. 
Pray Sir tell me,  
Hath not this news arrived yet to the ear;  
Of the Lord Cardinal?  Ant. 
I fear it hath,  
The Lord Ferdinand, (that's newly come to Court,)  
Doth bear himself right dangerously.  Del. 
Pray why?  Ant. 
He is so quiet, that he seems to sleep  
The tempest out (as dormice do in Winter,)  
Those houses, that are haunted, are most still,  
Till the devil be up.  Del. 
What say the common people.  Ant. 
The common-rabble, do directly say  
She is a Strumpet.  Del. 
And your graver heads,  
(Which would he politic) what censure they?  Ant. 
They do observe, I grow to infinite purchase  
The left-hand way, and all suppose the Duchess  
Would amend it, if she could: For, say they  
Great Princes, though they grudge their Officers  
Should have such large, and unconfined means  
To get wealth under them, will not complain  
lest thereby they should make them odious  
Unto the people, for other obligation  
Of love, or marriage, between her and me,  
They never dream of.  Del. 
The Lord Ferdinand  
Is going to bed.  Ferd. 
I'll instantly to bed,  
For I am weary: I am to be bespeak  
A husband for you.  Duch. 
For me (Sir?) pray who is't?  Ferd. 
The great Count Malateste.  Duch. 
Fie upon him,  
A Count? he's a mere stick of sugar-candy,  
(You may look quite through him) when I choose  
A husband, I will marry for your honour.  Ferd. 
You shall do well in't: How is't (worthy Antonio?)  Duch. 
But (Sir) I am to have private conference with you,  
About a scandalous report, is spread  
Touching mine honour.  Ferd. 
Let me be ever deaf to't:  
One of Pasquil's paper-bullets, court calumny,  
A pestilent air, which Princes palaces  
Are seldom purged off: Yet, say that it were true,  
I pour it in your bosom, my fixed love,  
Would strongly excuse, extenuate, nay deny  
Faults where they apparent in you: Go be safe  
In your own innocency.  Duch. 
Oh blessed comfort,  
This deadly air is purged. Exeunt.  Ferd. 
Her guilt treads on  
Hot burning cultures: Now Bosola,  
How thrives our intelligence?  Bos. 
(Sir) uncertainly,  
'Tis rumoured she hath had three bastards, but  
By whom, we may go read i'th' Stars.  Ferd. 
Why some  
Hold opinion, all things are written there.  Bos. 
Yes, if we could find Spectacles to read them,  
I do suspect, there hath been some Sorcery  
Used on the Duchess.  Ferd. 
Sorcery, to what purpose?  Bos. 
To make her dote on some desertless fellow,  
She shames to acknowledge.  Ferd. 
Can your faith, give way  
To think there's power in potions, or in Charms,  
To make us love, whether we will or no?  Bos. 
Most certainly.  Ferd. 
A way, these are mere gullcries, horrid things  
Invented by some cheating mountebanks  
To abuse us: Do you think that herbs, or charms  
Can force the will? Some trials have been made  
In this foolish practice; but the ingredients  
Were lenitive poisons, such as are of force  
To make the patient mad; and straight the witch  
Swears (by equivocation, they are in love.  
The witchcraft lies in her rank bood: this night  
I will force confession from her: You told me  
You had got (within these two days) a false key  
Into her Bedchamber.  Bos. 
I have.  Ferd. 
As I would wish.  Bos. 
What do you intend to do?  Ferd. 
Can you guess?  Bos. 
No:  Ferd. 
Do not ask then:  
He that can compass me, and know my drifts,  
May say he hath put a girdle 'bout the world,  
And sounded all her quicksands.  Bos. 
I do not  
Think so.  Ferd. 
What do you think then? pray?  Bos. 
That you are  
Your own Chronicle too much: and grossly  
Flatter yourself.  Ferd. 
Give me thy hand, I thank thee:  
I never gave Pension but to flatterers,  
Till I entertained thee: farewell,  
That Friend a Great man's ruin strongly checks,  
Who rails into his belief, all his defects. Exeunt.   

SCENA. II.  Duchess, Antonio, Cariola, Ferdinand, Bosola, Officers. Dutch. 
Bring me the Casket hither, and the Glass;  
You get no lodging here, tonight (my Lord.)  Ant. 
Indeed, I must persuade one:  Duch. 
Very good:  
I hope in time 'twill grow into a custom,  
That Noble men shall come with cap, and knee,  
To purchase a night's lodging, of their wives.  Ant. 
I must lie here.  Dutch. 
Must? you are a Lord of misrule.  Ant. 
Indeed, my Rule is only in the night.  Dutch. 
To what use will you put me,  Ant. 
we'll sleep together:  Dutch. 
Alas, what pleasure can two Lovers find in sleep?  Car. 
My Lord, I lie with her often: and I know  
She'll much disquiet you:  Ant. 
See, you are complained of.  Car. 
For she's the sprawlingst bedfellow.  Ant. 
I shall like her the better for that.  Car. 
Sir, shall I ask you a question?  Ant. 
I pray thee Cariola.  Car. 
Wherefore still when you lie with my Lady  
Do you rise so early?  Ant. 
Labouring men,  
Count the Clock oftenest Cariola,  
Are glad when their task's ended.  Duch. 
I'll stop your mouth.  Ant. 
Nay, that's but one, Venus had two soft Doves  
To draw her Chariot: I must have another:  
When wilt thou marry, Cariola?  Car. 
Never (my Lord.)  Ant. 
O fie upon this single life: forgo it:  
We read how Daphne, for her peevish slight  
Became a fruitless Bay-tree: Sirinx turned  
To the pale empty Reed: Anaxarate  
Was frozen into Marble: whereas those  
Which married, or proved kind unto their friends  
Were, by a gracious influence, transhaped  
Into the olive, Pomegranate, Mulberry:  
Became Flowers, precious Stones, or eminent Stars.  Car. 
This is a vain Poetry: but I pray you tell me,  
If there were proposed me, Wisdom, Riches, and Beauty,  
In three several young men, which should I choose?  Ant. 
'Tis a hard question: This was Paris case  
And he was blind in't, and there was great cause:  
For how was't possible he could judge right,  
Having three amorous Goddesses in view,  
And they stark naked: 'twas a Motion  
Were able to benight the apprehension  
Of the severest Counsellor of Europe.  
Now I look on both your faces, so well formed  
It puts me in mind of a question, I would ask.  Car. 
What is't?  Ant. 
I do wonder why hard-favoured Ladies  
For the most part, keep worse-favoured waiting women,  
To attend them, and cannot endure fair-ones.  Duch. 
Oh, that's soon answered.  
Did you ever in your life know an ill Painter  
Desire to have his dwelling next door to the shop  
Of an excellent Picture-maker? 'twould disgrace  
His face-making, and undo him: I prithee  
When were we so merry? my hair tangles.  Ant. 
Prithee (Cariola) let's steal forth the room,  
And let her talk to herself: I have diverse times  
Served her the like, when she hath chafed extremely:  
I love to see her angry: softly Cariola. Exeunt.  Duch. 
Doth not the colour of my hair 'gin to change?  
When I wax grey, I shall have all the Court  
Powder their hair, with Arras, to be like me:  
You have cause to love me, I entered you into my heart  
Before you would vouchsafe to call for the keys.  
We shall one day have my brothers take you napping:  
methinks his Presence (being now in Court)  
Should make you keep your own Bed: but you'll say  
Love mixed with fear, is sweetest: I'll assure you  
You shall get no more children till my brother's  
Consent to be your gossips: have you lost your tongue? 'tis welcome:  
For know whether I am doomed to live, or die,  
I can do both like a Prince. Ferdinand gives her a poniard.  Ferd. 
Die then, quickly:  
Virtue, where art thou hid? what hideous thing  
Is it, that doth eclipse thee?  Duch. 
Pray sir hear me:  Ferd. 
Or is it true, thou art but a bare name,  
And no essential thing?  Duch. 
Sir:  Ferd. 
Do not speak.  Duch. 
No sir:  
I will plant my soul in mine cares, to hear you.  Ferd. 
Oh most imperfect light of humane reason,  
That mak'st so unhappy, to fore see  
What we can least prevent: Pursue thy wishes:  
And glory in them: there's in shame no comfort,  
But to be passed all bounds, and sense of shame.  Duch. 
I pray sir, hear me: I am married,  Ferd. 
So:  Duch. 
Happily, not to your liking: but for that  
Alas: your shears do come untimely now  
To clip the birds wings, that's already flown:  
Will you see my Husband?  Ferd. 
Yes, if I  
Could change eyes with a Basilisque:  Duch. 
Sure, you came hither  
By his confederacy.  Ferd. 
The howling of a Wolf  
Is music to the (screech-owl) prithee peace:  
whate'er thou art, that hast enjoyed my sister,  
(For I am sure thou hearst me) for thine own sake  
Let me not know thee: I came hither, prepared  
To work thy discovery: yet am now persuaded  
It would beget such violent effects  
As would damp us both: I would not for ten Millions  
I had beheld thee: therefore use all means  
I never may have knowledge of thy name;  
Enjoy thy lust still, and a wretched life,  
On that condition: And for thee (vild woman,)  
If thou do wish thy lecher may grow old  
In thy Embracements, I would have thee build  
Such a room for him, as our Anchorites  
To holier use inhabit: Let not the Sun  
Shine on him, till he's dead: Let Dogs, and Monkeys  
Only converse with him, and such dumb things  
To whom Nature denies use, to sound his name.  
Do not keep a paraquito, lest she learn it;  
If thou do love him, cut out thine own tongue  
lest it bewray him.  Duch. 
Why might not I marry?  
I have not gone about, in this, to create  
Any new world, or custom.  Ferd. 
Thou art undone:  
And thou hast ta'en that massy sheet of lead  
That hid thy husband's bones, and folded it  
About my heart.  Dutch. 
Mine bleeds for't.  Ford. 
Thine? thy heart?  
What should I name't, unless a hollow bullet  
Filled with unquenchable wildfire?  Dutch. 
You are, in this  
Too strict: and were you not my Princely brother  
I would say to wilful: My reputation  
Is safe.  Ferd. 
Dost thou know what reputation is  
I'll tell thee, to small purpose, since th'instruction  
Comes now too late:  
Upon a time Reputation, Love, and Death,  
Would travel o'er the world: and it was concluded  
That they should part, and take three several ways:  
Death told them, they should find him in great Battles:  
Or Cities plagued with plagues: Love gives them council  
To inquire for him 'mongst unambitious shepherds,  
Where dowries were not talked of: and sometimes  
'Mongst quiet kindred, that had nothing left  
By their dead Parents: stay (quoth Reputation)  
Do not forsake me: for it is my nature  
If once I part from any man I meet  
I am never found again: And so, for you:  
You have shook hands with Reputation,  
And made him invisible: So fare you well.  
I will never see you more.  Dutch. 
Why should only I,  
Of all the other Princes of the World  
Be cased-up, like a holy Relic? I have youth,  
And a little beauty.  Ferd. 
So you have some Virgins,  
That are Witches: I will never see thee more. Exit.  Dutch. 
You saw this apparition.  Enter Antonio with a Pistol. Ant. 
Yes: we are  
Betrayed; how came he hither? I should turn  
This, to thee, for that.  Car. 
Pray sir do: and when  
That you have cleft my heart, you shall read there,  
Mine innocence:  Dutch. 
That Gallery gave him entrance.  Ant. 
I would this terrible thing would come again,  
That (standing on my Guard) I might relate  
My warrantable love: ha, what means this?  Dutch. 
He left this with me: she shows the poniard.  Ant. 
And it seems, did wish  
You would use it on yourself?  Dutch. 
His Action  
Seemed to intend so much.  Ant. 
This hath a handle to't,  
As well as a point, turn it towards him,  
And so fasten the keen edge, in his rank gall:  
How now? who knocks? more Earthquakes?  Dutch. 
I stand  
As if a Mine, beneath my feet, were ready  
To be blown up.  Car. 
'Tis Bosola:  Dutch. 
Away,  
Oh misery, methinks unjust actions  
Should wear these masques, and curtains; and not we:  
You must instantly part hence: I have fashioned it already. Ex. Ant.  Bos. 
The Duke your brother is ta'en up in a whirl wind  
Hath took horse, and's rid post to Rome.  Dutch. 
So late?  Bos. 
He told me, (as he mounted into th'saddle,)  
You were undone.  Dutch. 
Indeed, I am very near it.  Bos. 
What's the matter?  Dutch. 
Antonio, the master of our household  
Hath dealt so falsely with me, in's accounts:  
My brother stood engaged with me for money  
ta'en up of certain neopolitan Jews,  
And Antonio let's the Bonds be forfeit.  Bos. 
Strange: this is cunning:  Dutch. 
And hereupon  
My brother's Bills at Naples are protested  
Against: call up our Officers.  Bos. 
I shall. Exit.  Dutch. 
The place that you must fly to, is Ancona,  
Hire a house there. I'll send after you  
My Treasure, and my Jewels: our weak safety  
Runs upon ingenious wheels: short syllables,  
Must stand for periods: I must now accuse you  
Of such a feigned crime, as Tasso calls  
Magnanima Mensogna: a Noble Lie,  
'Cause it must shield our honours: hark they are coming.  Ant. 
Will your Grace hear me?  Dutch. 
I have got well by you: you have yielded me  
A million of loss; I am like to inherit  
The people's curses for your Stewardship:  
You had the trick, in Audit time to be sick,  
Till I had signed your Quietus; and that cured you  
Without help of a Doctor. Gentlemen,  
I would have this man be an example to you all:  
So shall you hold my favour: I pray let him;  
For h'as done that (alas) you would not think of,  
And (because I intend to be rid of him)  
I mean not to publish: use your fortune elsewhere.  Ant. 
I am strongly armed to brook my overthrow,  
As commonly men bear with a hard year:  
I will not blame the cause on't; but do think  
The necessity of my malevolent star  
Procures this, not her humour: O the inconstant,  
And rotten ground of service, you may see:  
'Tis e'en like him, that in a winter night  
Takes a long slumber, over a dying fire;  
A-loath to part from't: yet parts thence as cold,  
As when he first sat down.  Dutch. 
We do confiscate  
(Towards the satisfying of your accounts)  
All that you have.  Ant. 
I am all yours: and 'tis very fit  
All mine should be so.  Dutch. 
So, sir; you have your Pass.  Ant. 
You may see (Gentlemen) what 'tis to serve  
A Prince with body, and soul. Exit.  Bos. 
here's an example, for extortion; what moisture, is drawn out of the Sea, when foul weather comes, powers down, and runs into the Sea again.  Dutch. 
I would know what are your opinions  
Of this Antonio.  2. Offi. 
He could not abide to see a pig's head gaping,  
I thought your Grace would find him a jew:  3. Offi. 
I would you had been his Officer, for your own sake.  4. Offi. 
You would have had more money.  1. Offi. 
He stopped his ears with black wool: and to (those came a woman.  
To him for money) said he was thick of hearing.  2. Offi. 
Some said he was an hermaphrodite, for he could not abide  4. Offi. 
How scurvy proud he would look, when the Treasury was full:  
Well, let him go:  1. Offi. 
Yes, and the chippings of the buttery fly after him,  
To scour his gold Chain. Exeunt.  Dutch. 
Leave us: what do you think of these?  Bos. 
That these are Rogues; that in's prosperity,  
But to have waited on his fortune, could have wished  
His duty Stirrup riveted through their noses:  
And followed after's Mule, like a Bear in a Ring.  
Would have prostituted their daughters, to his Lust:  
Made their firstborn and Intelligencers: thought none happy  
But such as were borne under his blessed Planet:  
And wore his Livery: and do these Lice drop off now?  
Well, never look to have the like again;  
He hath left a sort of flatter rogues, behind him,  
Their doom must follow: Princes pay flatterers,  
In their own money: Flatterers dissemble their vices,  
And they dissemble their lies, that's justice:  
Alas, poor gentlemen,  Duch. 
Poor? he hath amply filled his coffers.  Bos. 
Sure he was too honest: Pluto the god of riches,  
When he's sent (by jupiter) to any man  
He goes limping, to signify that wealth  
That comes on god's name, comes slowly, but when he's sent  
One the devil's errand, he rides post, and comes in by scuttles:  
Let me show you, what a most unvalued jewel,  
You have (in a wanton humour) thrown away,  
To bless the man shall find him: He was an excellent  
Courtier, and most faithful, a soldier, that thought it  
As beastly to know his own value too little,  
As devilish to acknowledge it too much,  
Both his virtue, and form, deserved a far better fortune:  
His discourse rather delighted to judge itself, then show itself.  
His breast was filled with all perfection,  
And yet it seemed a private whispering room.  
It made so little noise of't.  Duch. 
But he was basely descended.  Bos. 
Will you make yourself a mercenary herald,  
Rather to examine men's pedigrees, than virtues?  
You shall want him,  
For know an honest statesman to a Prince,  
Is like a Cedar, planted by a Spring,  
The Spring baths the trees root, the grateful tree,  
Rewards it with his shadow: you have not done so,  
I would sooner swim to the Bermoothes on two politicians'  
Rotten bladders, tide together with an Intelligencers heartstring  
Then depend on so changeable a PRINCE's favour.  
Fare-thee-well (Antonio) since the malice of the world  
Would needs down with thee, it cannot be said yet  
That any ill happened unto thee, considering thy fall,  
Was accompanied with virtue.  Duch. 
Oh, you render me excellent Music.  Bos. 
Say you?  Duch. 
This good one that you speak of, is my husband.  Bos. 
Do I not dream? can this ambitious age  
Have so much goodness in't, as to prefer  
A man, merely for worth: without these shadows  
Of wealth, and painted honours? possible?  Duch. 
I have had three children by him.  Bos. 
Fortunate Lady,  
For you have made your private nuptial bed  
The humble, and fair Seminary of peace,  
No question but: many an unbeneficed Scholar  
Shall pray for you, for this deed, and rejoice  
That some preferment in the world can yet  
Arise from merit. The virgins of your land  
(That have no dowries) shall hope, your example  
Will raise them to rich husbands: Should you want  
Soldiers 'twould make the very Turks and moors  
Turn Christians, and serve you for this act.  
Last, the neglected Poets of your time,  
(In honour of this trophy of a man,  
Raised by that curious engine, (your white hand)  
Shall thank you, in your grave for't; and make that  
More reverend than all the Cabinets  
Of living Princes: For Antonio  
His fame, shall likewise flow, from many a pen,  
When Heralds shall want coats, to sell to men.  Duch. 
As I taste comfort, in this friendly speech,  
So would I find concealment.  Bos. 
O the secret of my Prince.  
Which I will wear on th'inside of my heart.  Duch. 
You shall take charge of all my coin, and jewels,  
And follow him, for he retires himself  
To Ancona.  Bos. 
So.  Duch. 
Whether, within few days,  
I mean to follow thee.  Bos. 
Let me think:  
I would wish your Grace, to feign a Pilgrimage  
To our Lady of Loretto, (scarce seven leagues  
From fair Ancona) so may you depart  
Your Country, with more honour, and your flight  
Will seem a Princely progress, retaining  
Your usual train about you.  Duch. 
Sir, your direction  
Shall lead me, by the hand.  Car. 
In my opinion,  
She were better progress to the baths  
At Leuca, or go visit the spa  
In Germany, for (if you will believe me)  
I do not like this jesting with religion,  
This feigned Pilgrimage.  Duch. 
Thou art a superstitious fool,  
Prepare us instantly for our departure:  
Past sorrows, let us moderately lament them,  
For those to come, seek wisely, to prevent them. Exit.  Bos. 
A Politician is the devil's quilted anvil,  
He fashions all sins on him, and the blows  
Are never heard, he may work in a Lady's Chamber,  
(As here for proof) what rests, but I reveal  
All to my Lord? oh, this base quality  
Of Intelligencer! why, every Quality i'th' world  
Prefers but gain, or commendation:  
Now for this act, I am certain to be raised,  
"And men that paint weeds, (to the life) are praised. Exit.   

SCENA III.  Cardinal, Ferdinand, Mallateste, Pescara, Silvia, Delio, Bosola. Card. 
Must we turn Soldier then?  Mal. 
The Emperor,  
Hearing your worth that way, (ere you attained  
This reverend garment,) joins you in commission  
With the right fortunate soldier, the Marquis of Pescara,  
And the famous Lanoy.  Card. 
He that had the honour  
Of taking the French King Prisoner?  Mal. 
The same,  
Here's a plot drawn, for a new Fortification,  
At Naples.  Ferd. 
This great Count Malastete, I perceive  
Hath got employment?  Del. 
No employment (my Lord)  
A marginal note in the muster-book, that he is  
A voluntary Lord.  Ferd. 
He's no Soldier?  Del. 
He has worn gunpowder, in's hollow tooth, for the toothache.  Sil. 
He comes to the leaguer, with a full intent,  
To eat fresh beef, and garlic, means to stay  
Till the scent begone, and straight return to Court.  Del. 
He hath read all the late service,  
As the City Chronicle relates it,  
And keep two Pewterers going, only to express  
Battles in model.  Sil. 
Then hel; fight by the book.  Del. 
By the Almanac, I think  
To choose good days, and shun the Critical,  
That's his mistress scarf.  Sil. 
Yes, he protests  
He would do much for that taffeta,  Del. 
I think he would run away from a battle  
To save it from taking prisoner.  Sil. 
He is horribly afraid,  
Gunpowder will spoil the perfume on't,  Del. 
I saw a Dutchman break his pate once  
For calling him potgun, he made his head  
Have a boar in't, like a musket.  Sil. 
I would he had made a touchhole to't.  
He is indeed a guarded sumpter-cloth  
Only for the remove of the Court.  Pes. 
Bosola arrived? what should be the business?  
Some falling out amongst the Cardinals.  
These factions amongst great men, they are like  
Foxes, when their heads are divided  
They carry fire in their tails, and all the Country  
About them, goes to wrack for't.  Sil. 
What's that Bosola?  Del. 
I knew him in Padua, a fantastical scholar,  
Like such, who study to know how many knots was in  
Hercules' club, of what colour Achilles beard was,  
Or whether Hector were not troubled with the toothache,  
He hath studied himself half blear-eyed, to know the  
True symmetry of Caesar's nose by a shooing-horn, and this  
He did to gain the name of a speculative man.  Pes. 
Mark Prince Ferdinand,  
A very Salamander lives in's eye,  
To mock the eager violence of fire.  Sil. 
That Cardinal hath made more bad faces with his oppression  
Then ever Michael Angelo made good ones,  
He lifts up's nose, like a foul porpoise before a storm,  Pes. 
The Lord Ferdinand laughs.  Del. 
Like a deadly Cannon,  
That lightens ere it smokes.  Pes. 
These are your true pangs of death,  
The pangs of life, that struggle with great statesmen.  Del. 
In such a deformed silence, witches whisper their charms.  Card. 
Doth she make religion her riding hood  
To keep her from the sun, and tempest?  Ferd. 
That: that damns her: methinks her fault, and  
Beauty blended together, show like leprosy  
The whiter, the fowler: I make it a question  
Whether her beggarly brats were ever christened.  Card. 
I will instantly solicit the state of Ancona  
To have them banished.  Ferd. 
You are for Lorette?  
I shall not be at your Ceremony: fare you well,  
Write to the Duke of Malfi, my young Nephew,  
She had by her first husband, and acquaint him,  
With's mother's honesty.  Bos. 
I will.  Ferd. 
Antonio?  
A slave, that only smelled of ink, and coumptets,  
And ne'er in's like, looked like a Gentleman,  
But in the audit time, go, go presently,  
Draw me out an hundreth and fifty of our horse,  
And meet me at the fort-bridge. Exeunt.   

SCENA IIII.  Two pilgrims to the Shrine of our Lady of Loretto. 1. Pilg. 
I have not seen a goodlier Shrine than this,  
Yet I have visited many.  2. Pilg. 
The Cardinal of Arragon  
Is, this day to resign his cardinal's hat,  
His sister duchess likewise is arrived  
To pay her vow of Pilgrimage, I expect  
A noble Ceremony.  1. Pilg. 
No question:— They come.  Here the Ceremony of the cardinal's instalment, in the habit a Soldier: performed in delivering up his Cross, Hat, Robes, and Ring, at the Shrine; and investing him with Sword, Helmet, Shield and spurs: Then Antonio, the Duchess, and their Children, (having presented themselves at the Shrine) are (by a form of Banishment in dumb-show, expressed towards them by the Cardinal, and the State of Ancona) banished: During all Ceremony, this Ditty is sung (to very solemn Music) by diverse Churchmen, and then Exeunt. 

arms, and Honours, deck thy story,  
To thy Fame's eternal glory,  
Adverse Fortune ever flie-thee, 
The Author disclaims this Ditty to be his.   
No disastrous fate come nigh-thee.   

I alone will sing thy praises,  
Whom to honour, virtue raises;  
And thy study, that divine's,  
Bent to martial discipline's:  
Lay aside all those robes lie by thee,  
Crown thy arts, with arms: they'll beautify thee.   

O worthy of worthiest name, adorned in this manner,  
Lead bravely thy forces on, under wars warlike banner.  
O mayst thou prove fortunate, in all martial courses:  
Guide thou still, by skill, in arts, and forces:  
Victory attend thee nigh whilst fame sings loud thy powers,  
Triumphant conquest crown thy head, and blessings pour down showers.   1. Pilg. 
Here's a strange turn of state, who would have thought  
So great a Lady, would have matched herself  
Unto so mean a person? yet the Cardinal  
Bears himself much too cruel.  2. Pilg. 
They are banished.  1. Pilg. 
But I would ask what power hath this state  
Of Ancona to determine of a free Prince?  2. Pilg. 
They are a free state sir, and her brother showed  
How that the Pope forehearing of her looseness,  
Hath seized into th'protection of the Church  
The Dukedom, which she held as dowager.  1. Pil. 
But by what justice?  2. Pilg. 
Sure I think by none,  
Only her brother's instigation.  1. Pilg. 
What was it, with such violence he took  
Of from her finger?  2. Pil. 
'Twas her wedding ring,  
Which he vowed shortly he would sacrifice  
To his revenge.  1. Pilg. 
Alas Antonio,  
If that a man be thrust into a well,  
No matter who sets hand to't, his own weight  
Will bring him sooner to th'bottom: Come, let's hence.  
Fortune makes this conclusion general,  
"All things do help th'unhappy man to fall. Exeunt.   

SCENA V.  Antonio, duchess, Children, Cariola, Servants, Bosola, Soldiers, with Visards. Duch. 
Banished Ancona?  Ant. 
Yes, you see what power  
Lightens in great men's breath.  Duch. 
Is all our train  
Shrunk to this poor remainder?  Ant. 
These poor men,  
(Which have got little in your service) vow  
To take your fortune: But your wiser buntings  
Now they are fledged are gone.  Duch. 
They have done wisely,  
This puts me in mind of death, Physicians thus,  
With their hands full of money, use to give over  
Their Patients.  Ant. 
Right the fashion of the world,  
From decayed fortunes, every flatterer shrinks,  
Men cease to build, where the foundation sinks.  Duch. 
I had a very strange dream tonight.  Ant. 
What was't?  Duch. 
methought I wore my Coronet of State,  
And on a sudden all the Diamonds  
Were changed to Pearls.  Ant. 
My Interpretation  
Is, you'll weep shortly, for to me, the pearls  
Do signify your tears:  Dutch. 
The Birds, that live i'th' field  
On the wild benefit of Nature, live  
Happier than we; for they may choose their Mates,  
And carol their sweet pleasures to the Spring:  Bos. 
You are happily o'ertaken.  Duch. 
From my brother?  Bos. 
Yes, from the Lord Ferdinand; your brother,  
All love, and safety  Dutch. 
Thou dost blanch mischief  
Wouldst make it white: See, see; like to calm weather  
At Sea, before a tempest, false hearts speak fair  
To those they intend most mischief.  
A Letter. Send Antonio to me; I want his head in a business: (a politic equivocation)  
He doth not want your council, but your head;  
That is, he cannot sleep till you be dead.  
And here's another Pitfall, that's strewed over  
With Roses: mark it, 'tis a cunning one.  
I stand engaged for your husband, for several debts at Naples: let not  
That trouble him, I had rather have his heart, than his money.  
And I believe so too.  Bos. 
What do you believe?  Dutch. 
That he so much distrusts my husband's love,  
He will by no means believe his heart is with him  
Until he see it: The Devil is not cunning enough  
To circumvent us in Riddles.  Bos. 
Will you reject that noble, and free league  
Of amity, and love which I present you?  Dutch. 
Their league is like that of some politic Kings  
Only to make themselves of strength, and power  
To be our after-ruin: tell them so;  Bos. 
And what from you?  Ant. 
Thus tell him: I will not come.  Bos. 
And what of this.  Ant. 
My brothers have dispersed  
Bloodhounds abroad; which till I hear are muzzled  
No truce, though hatched with ne'er such politic skill  
Is safe, that hangs upon our enemies will.  
I'll not come at them.  Bos. 
This proclaims your breeding.  
Every small thing, draws a base mind to fear:  
As the Adamant draws iron: fare you well sir,  
You shall shortly hear from's. Exit.  Dutch. 
I suspect some Ambush:  
Therefore by all my love; I do conjure you  
To take your eldest son, and fly towards Milan;  
Let us not venture all this poor remainder  
In one unlucky bottom.  Ant. 
You council safely:  
Best of my life, farewell: Since we must part  
Heaven hath a hand in't: but no otherwise,  
Then as some curious Artist, takes in sunder  
A Clock, or Watch, when it is out of frame  
To bring't in better order.  Dutch. 
I know not which is best,  
To see you dead, or part with you: Farewell Boy.  
Thou art happy, that thou hast not understanding  
To know thy misery: For all our wit  
And reading, brings us to a truer sense  
Of sorrow: In the eternal Church, Sir,  
I do hope we shall not part thus.  Ant. 
Oh, be of comfort,  
Make Patience a noble fortitude:  
And think not how unkindly we are used:  
"Man (like to Cassia) is proved best, being bruised.  Dutch. 
Must I like to a slave-born Russian,  
Account it praise to suffer tyranny?  
And yet (O Heaven) thy heavy hand is in't.  
I have seen my little boy, oft scourge his top,  
And compared myself to't: nought made me ere go right,  
But heaven's scourge-stick.  Ant. 
Do not weep:  
Heaven fashioned us of nothing: and we strive,  
To bring ourselves to nothing: farewell Cariola,  
And thy sweet armful: if I do never see thee more,  
Be a good Mother to your little ones,  
And save them from the Tiger: fare you well.  Duch. 
Let me look upon you once more: for that speech  
Came from a dying father: your kiss is colder  
Than that I have seen an holy Anchorite  
Give to a dead man's skull.  Ant. 
My heart is turned to a heavy lump of lead,  
With which I sound my danger: fare you well. Exit.  Duch. 
My Laurel is all withered.  Car. 
Look (Madam) what a troop of armed men  
Make toward us. Enter Bosola with a Guard.  Duch. 
O, they are very welcome:  
When Fortune's wheel, is overcharged with Princes,  
The weight makes it move swift. I would have my ruin  
Be sudden: I am your adventure, am I not.  Bos. 
You are, you must see your husband no more,  Duch. 
What Devil art thou, that counterfeits heaven's thunder?  Bos. 
Is that terrible? I would have you tell me  
Whether is that note worse, that frights the silly birds  
Out of the corn or that which doth allure them  
To the nets? you have hearkened to the last too much.  Duch. 
O misery: like to a rusty o'er-charred Cannon,  
Shall I never fly in pieces? come: to what Prison?  Bos. 
To none.  Duch. 
Whether then?  Bos. 
To your Palace.  Duch. 
I have heard that Charon's boat, serves to convey  
All o'er the dismal Lake, but brings none back again.  Bos. 
Your brothers mean you, safety, and pity.  Dutch. 
pity? with such a pity men preserve alive  
Pheasants, and Quails, when they are not fat enough  
To be eaten.  Bos. 
These are your children?  Dutch 
Yes:  Bos. 
Can they prattle?  Dutch. 
No:  
But I intend, since they were borne accursed;  
Curses shall be their first language.  Bos. 
Fie (Madam)  
Forget this base, low-fellow.  Dutch. 
Were I a man:  
I'd beat that counterfeit face, into thy other  Bos. 
One of no Birth.  Dutch. 
Say that he was borne mean.  
Man is most happy, when's own actions  
Be arguments, and examples of his Virtue.  Bos. 
A barren, beggarly virtue.  Dutch. 
I prithee who is greatest, can you tell?  
Sad tales befit my woe: I'll tell you one.  
A Salmon, as she swam unto the Sea,  
Met with a Dogfish; who encounters her  
With this rough language: why art thou so bold  
To mix thyself with our high state of floods  
Being no eminent Courtier, but one  
That for the calmest, and fresh time o'th' year  
Dost live in shallow Rivers, rankest thyself  
With silly Smylts, and shrimps? and darest thou  
Pass by our Dogship, without reverence?  
O (Quoth the Salmon) sister, be at peace:  
Thank jupiter, we both have passed the Net,  
Our value never can be truly known,  
Till in the fisher's basket we be shown,  
I'th' Market then my price may be the higher,  
Even when I am nearest to the Cook, and fire.  
So, to Great men, the Moral may be stretched  
Men oft are valued high, when theyare most wretched.  
But come: whether you please: I am armed 'gainst misery:  
Bent to all sways of the Oppressors' will.  
There's no deep Valley, but near some great Hill. Ex.    

ACTVS IIII.  

SCENA. I.  Ferdinand, Bosola, Duchess, Cariola, Servants. Ferd. 
How doth our sister Duchess bear herself  
In her imprisonment?  Bos. 
Nobly: I'll describe her:  
She's sad, as one long used to't: and she seems  
Rather to welcome the end of misery  
Then shun it: a behaviour so noble,  
As gives a majesty to adversity:  
You may discern the shape of loveliness  
More perfect, in her tears, then in her smiles;  
She will muse four hours together: and her silence,  
( methinks) expresseth more, than if she spoke.  Ferd. 
Her melancholy seems to be fortified  
With a strange disdain.  Bos. 
'Tis so: and this restraint  
(Like English Mastiffs, that grow fierce with tying)  
Makes her too passionately apprehend  
Those pleasures she's kept from.  Ferd. 
Curse upon her:  
I will no longer study in the book  
Of another's heart: inform her what I told you. Exit.  Bos. 
All comfort to your Grace;  Dutch. 
I will have none:  
Prithee, why dost thou wrap thy poisoned Pills  
In Gold, and Sugar?  Bos. 
Your elder brother the Lord Ferdinand  
Is come to visit you: and sends you word  
'Cause once he rashly made a solemn vow  
Never to see you more; he comes i'th' night:  
And prays you (gently) neither Torch, nor Taper  
Shine in your Chamber: he will kiss your hand:  
And reconcile himself: but, for his vow,  
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 darkness suits you well.  Dutch. 
I would ask you pardon:  Ferd. 
You have it;  
For I account it, the honourabl'st revenge  
Where I may kill, to pardon: where are your cubs?  Duch. 
Whom?  Ferd. 
Call them your children;  
For though our national law, distinguish Bastards  
From true legitimate issue: compassionate nature  
Makes them all equal.  Duch. 
Do you visit me for this?  
You violate a Sacrament o'th' Church  
Shall make you howl in hell for't.  Ferd. 
It had been well,  
Could you have lived thus always: for indeed  
You were too much i'th' light: But no more,  
I come to seal my peace with you: here's a hand, gives her a dead man's hand.  
To which you have vowed much love: the Ring upon't  
You gave.  Duch. 
I affectionately kiss it:  Ferd. 
Pray do: and bury the print of it in your heart:  
I will leave this Ring with you, for a Love-token:  
And the hand, as sure as the ring: and do not doubt  
But you shall have the heart too: when you need a friend  
Send it to him, that owed it: you shall see  
Whether he can aid you.  Dutch. 
You are very cold.  
I fear you are not well after your travel:  
Hah? lights: oh horrible:  Ferd. 
Let her have lights enough Exit.  Dutch. 
What witchcraft doth he practise, that he hath left  
A deadman's hand here? — Here is discovered, (behind a Travers;) the artificial figures of Antonio, and his children, appearing as if they were dead.  Bos. 
Look you: here's the piece, from which 'twas ta'en;  
He doth present you this sad spectacle,  
That now you know directly they are dead,  
Hereafter you may (wisely) cease to grieve  
For that which cannot be recovered.  Duch. 
There is not between heaven, and earth one wish  
I stay for after this: it wastes me more,  
Than were't my picture, fashioned out of wax,  
Stuck with a magical needle, and then buried  
In some foul dunghill: 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 lifeless trunk,  
And let me freeze to death.  Bos. 
Come, you must live.  Dutch. 
That's the greatest torture souls feel in hell,  
In hell: that they must live, and cannot die:  
Portia, I'll new kindle thy Coals again,  
And revive the rare, and almost dead example  
Of a loving wife.  Bos. 
O fie: despair? remember  
You are a Christian.  Dutch. 
The Church enjoins fasting:  
I'll starve myself to death.  Bos. 
Leave this vain 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 eyelid.  Dutch. 
Good comfortable fellow  
Persuade a wretch that's broke upon the wheel  
To have all his bones new set: entreat him live,  
To be executed again: who must dispatch me?  
I account this world a tedious Theatre,  
For I do play a part in't 'gainst my will.  Bos. 
Come, be of comfort, I will save your life.  Dutch. 
Indeed I have not leisure to tend so small a business.  Bos. 
Now, by my life, I pity you.  Dutch. 
Thou art a fool then,  
To waste thy pity on a thing so wretched  
As cannot pity it: I am full of daggers:  
Puff: let me blow these vipers from one.  
What are you?  Ser. 
One that wishes you long life.  Duch. 
I would thou wert hanged for the horrible curse  
Thou hast given me: I shall shortly grow one  
Of the miracles of pity: I'll go pray: No,  
I'll go curse:  Bos. 
Oh fie:  Dutch. 
I could curse the Stars.  Bos. 
Oh fearful:  Dutch. 
And those three smiling seasons of the year  
Into a Russian winter: nay the world  
To its first Chaos.  Bos. 
Look you, the Stars shine still:  Dutch. 
Oh, but you must remember, my curse hath a great way to go:  
Plagues, (that make lanes through largest families)  
Consume them:  Bos. 
Fie Lady:  Dutch. 
Let them like tyrants  
Never be remembered, but for the ill they have done:  
Let all the zealous prayers of mortified  
Churchmen forget them,  Bos. 
O uncharitable:  Dutch. 
Let heaven, a little while, cease crowning Martyrs  
To punish them: Go, howl 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 plagued in Art.  
These presentations are but framed in wax.  
By the curious Master in that Quality,  
Vincentio Lauriola, and she takes them  
For true substantial Bodies.  Bos. 
Why do you do this?  Ferd. 
To bring her to despair.  Bos. 
'Faith, end here:  
And go no farther in your cruelty,  
Send her a penitential garment, to put on,  
Next to her delicate skin, and furnish her  
With beads, and prayer books.  Ferd. 
Damn her, that body of hers,  
While that my blood ran pure in't, was more worth  
Then, that which thou wouldst comfort, (called a soul)  
I will send her masques of common Courtesans,  
Have her meat served up by bawds, and ruffians,  
And ('cause she'll needs be mad) I am resolved  
To remove forth the common Hospital,  
All the mad-folk, and place them near her lodging:  
There let them practise together, sing, and dance,  
And act their gambols to the full o'th' moon:  
If she can sleep the better for it, let her,  
Your work is almost ended.  Bos. 
Must I see her again?  Ferd. 
Yes.  Bos. 
Never.  Ferd. 
You must.  Bos. 
Never in mine own shape,  
That's forfeited, by my intelligence,  
And this last cruel lie: when you send me next,  
The business shallbe comfort.  Ferd. 
Very likely,  
Thy pity is nothing of kin to thee: Antonio,  
Lurks about Milan, thou shalt shortly thither,  
To feed a fire, as great as my revenge,  
Which ne'er will slack, till it have spent his fuel,  
"Intemperate agues, make Physicians cruel. Exeunt.   

SCENA II.  Duchess, Cariola, Servant, Madmen, Bosola, Executioners, Ferdinand. Duch. 
What hideous noise was that?  Cari 
 
Of Madmen (Lady) which your Tyrant brother  
Hath placed about your lodging: This tyranny,  
I think was never practised till this hour.  Duch. 
Indeed I thank him: nothing but noise, and folly  
Can keep me in my right wits, whereas reason  
And silence, make me stark mad: Sit down,  
Discourse to me some dismal Tragedy.  Cari. 
O 'twill increase your melancholy.  Duch. 
Thou art deceived,  
To hear of greater grief, would lessen mine,  
This is a prison?  Cari. 
Yes, but you shall live  
To shake this durance off.  Duch. 
Thou art a fool,  
The Robin redbreast, and the Nightingale,  
Never live long in cages.  Cari. 
Pray dry your eyes.  
What think you of Madam?  Duch. 
Of nothing:  
When I muse thus, I sleep.  Cari. 
Like a madman, with your eyes open?  Duch. 
Dost thou think we shall know one another,  
In th'other world?  Cari. 
Yes, out of question.  Duch. 
O that it were possible we might  
But hold some two days' conference with the dead.  
From them, I should learn somewhat I am sure  
I never shall know here: I'll tell thee a miracle,  
I am not mad yet, to my cause of sorrow.  
Th'heaven o'er my head, seems made of molten brass.  
The earth of flaming sulphur, yet I am not mad:  
I am acquainted with sad misery,  
As the tanned galleyslave, is with his Oar,  
Necessity makes me suffer constantly,  
And custom makes it easy, who do I look like now?  Cari. 
Like to your picture in the gallery,  
A deal of life in show, but none in practice:  
Or rather like some reverend monument  
Whose ruins, are even pitied.  Duch. 
Very proper:  
And Fortune seems only to have her eyesight,  
To behold my Tragedy: How now,  
What noise is that?  Servant. 
I am come to tell you,  
Your brother hath intended you some sport:  
A great Physician, when the Pope was sick  
Of a deep melancholy, presented him  
With several sorts of madmen, which wild object  
(Being full of change, and sport,) forced him to laugh,  
And so th'impostume broke: the self same cure,  
The Duke intends on you.  Duch. 
Let them come in.  Ser. 
There's a mad Lawyer, and a secular Priest,  
A Doctor that hath forfeited his wits  
By jealousy: an Astrologian,  
That in his works, said such a day o'th' month,  
Should be the day of doom; and failing of't,  
Ran mad: an English tailor, crazed i'th' brain,  
With the study of new fashion: a gentleman usher  
Quite beside himself, with care to keep in mind,  
The number of his lady's salutations;  
Or how do you, she employed him in each morning:  
A Farmer too, (an excellent knave in grain)  
Mad, 'cause he was hindered transportation,  
And let one broker, (that's mad) lose to these,  
you'd think the devil were among them.  Duch. 
Sit Cariola: let them lose when you please,  
For I am chained to endure all your tyranny.  Here (by a Madman) this song is sung, to a dismal kind of Music. 

O let us howl, some heavy note,  
some deadly-dogged howl,  
Sounding, as from the threatning throat,  
of beasts, and fatal fowl.  
As Ravens, screech-owls, Bulls, and Bears,  
We'll bill, and bawl our parts,  
Till irksome noise have cloyed your ears,  
and corrosived your hearts.  
At last whenas our choir wants breath,  
our bodies being blessed,  
We'll sing like Swans, to welcome death,  
and die in love and rest.   1. Madman. 
Doomsday not come yet? I'll draw it nearer by a perspective, or make a glass, that shall set all the world on fire upon an instant: I cannot sleep, my pillow is stuffed with a litter of Porcupines.  2. Mad. 
Hell is a mere glass-house, where the devils are continually blowing up women's souls, on hollow irons, and the fire never goes out.  3. Mad. 
I will lie with every woman in my parish the tenth night:  
I will tithe them over like haycocks.  4. Mad. 
Shall my Pothecary outgo me, because I am a  
Cuckold? I have found out his roguery: he makes alum  
Of his wife's urine, and sells it to Puritans, that have sore  
Throats with overstraining.  1. Mad. 
I have skill in heraldry.  2. 
Hast?  1. 
You do give for your crest, a woodcock's head, with the  
Brains picked out on't, you are a very ancient Gentleman.  3. 
Greek is turned Turk, we are only to be saved by the  
Helvetian translation.  1. 
Come on Sir, I will lay the law to you.  2. 
Oh, rather lay a corazive, the law will eat to the bone.  3. 
He that drinks but to satisfy nature is damned.  4. 
If I had my glass here, I would show a sight should make  
All the women here, call me mad Doctor.  1. 
What's he, a rope-maker?  2. 
No, no, no, a snuffling knave, that while he shows the  
Tombs, will have his hand in a wench's placket.  3. 
Woe, to the caroche, that brought home my wife from  
The Masque, at three o'clock in the morning, it had a large  
Featherbed in it.  4. 
I have paired the devil's nails forty times, roasted them  
In Ravens eggs, and cured agues with them.  3. 
Get me three hundred milch bats, to make possets,  
To procure sleep.  4. 
All the College may throw their caps at me, I have made a  
Soap-boiler costive, it was my masterpiece: — Here the Dance consisting of 8. Madmen, with music answerable there unto, after which, Bosola (like an old man) enters.  Duch. 
Is he mad to?  Ser. 
Pray question him: I'll leave you.  Bos. 
I am come to make thy tomb.  Duch. 
Hah, my tomb?  
Thou speak'st, as if I lay upon my death bed,  
Gasping for breath: dost thou perceive me sick?  Bos. 
Yes, and the more dangerously, since thy sickness is insensible.  Duch. 
Thou art not mad sure, dost know me?  Bos. 
Yes.  Duch. 
Who am I?  Bos. 
Thou art a box of wormseed at best, but a salvatory  
Of green mummy: what's this flesh? a little curdled milk,  
Fantastical puff-paste: our bodies are weaker than those  
Paper prisons boys use to keep flies in: more contemptible:  
Since ours is to preserve earthworms: didst thou ever see  
A Lark in a cage? such is the soul in the body: this world  
Is like her little turf of grass, and the Heaven o'er our heads,  
Like her looking glass, only gives us a miserable knowledge  
Of the small compass of our prison.  Duch. 
Am not I, thy Duchess?  Bos. 
Thou art some great woman sure, for riot begins to sit on thy  
Forehead (clad in grey hairs) twenty years sooner, than on a  
Merry milk maids. Thou sleep'st worse, than if a mouse  
Should be forced to take up her lodging in a cat's ear:  
A little infant, that breeds its teeth, should it lie with thee, would  
Cry out, as if thou wert the more unquiet bedfellow.  Duch. 
I am Duchess of Malfi still.  Bos. 
That makes thy sleeps so broken:  
"Glories (like glowworms) afar off, shine bright,  
But looked too near, have neither heat, nor light.  Duch. 
Thou art very plain.  Bos. 
My trade is to flatter the dead, not the living  
I am a tomb-maker.  Duch. 
And thou com'st to make my tomb?  Bos. 
Yes.  Duch. 
Let me be a little merry,  
Of what stuff wilt thou make it?  Bos. 
Nay, resolve me first, of what fashion?  Duch. 
Why, do we grow fantastical in our deathbed?  
Do we affect fashion in the grave?  Bos. 
Most ambitiously: Princes images on their tombs,  
Do not lie, as they were wont, seeming to pray,  
Up to heaven: but with their hands under their cheeks,  
(As if they died of the toothache) they are not carved  
With their eyes, fixed upon the stars; but as their  
Minds were wholly bent upon the world,  
The selfsame way they seem to turn their faces.  Duch. 
Let me know fully therefore the effect  
Of this thy dismal preparation,  
This talk, fit for a charnel?  Bos. 
Now, I shall,  
Here is a present from your Princely brothers, A Coffin, Cords, and a Bell.  
And may it arrive welcome, for it brings  
Last benefit, last sorrow.  Duch. 
Let me see it,  
I have so much obedience, in my blood,  
I wish it in their veins, to do them good.  Bos. 
This is your last presence Chamber.  Cari. 
O my sweet Lady.  Duch. 
Peace, it affrights not me.  Bos. 
I am the common Bellman,  
That usually is sent to condemned persons  
The night before they suffer:  Duch 
even now thou saidst,  
Thou wast a tomb-maker?  Bos. 
'Twas to bring you  
By degrees to mortification: Listen.  
Hark, now every thing is still,  
The screech-owl, and the whistler shrill,  
Call upon our Dame, aloud,  
And bid her quickly don her shroud:  
Much you had of Land and rent,  
Your length in clay's now competent.  
A long war, disturbed your mind,  
Here your perfect peace is signed,  
Of what is't, fools make such vain keeping?  
Sin their conception, their birth, weeping:  
Their life, a general mist of error,  
Their death, a hideous storm of terror,  
Strew your hair, with powders sweet:  
Don clean linen, bathe your feet,  
And (the foul fiend more to check)  
A crucifix let bless your neck,  
'Tis now full tide, 'tween night, and day,  
End your groan, and come away.  Cari. 
Hence villains, tyrants, murderers: alas!  
What will you do with my Lady? call for help.  Duch. 
To whom, to our next neighbours? they are mad-folks.  Bos. 
Remove that noise.  Duch. 
Farewell Cariola,  
In my last will, I have not much to give  
A many hungry guests, have fed upon me,  
Thine will be a poor reversion.  Cari. 
I will die with her.  Duch. 
I Praythee look thou giv'st my little boy  
Some syrup, for his cold, and let the girl  
Say her prayers, ere she sleep. Now what you please,  
What death?  Bos. 
Strangling, here are your Executioners.  Duch. 
I forgive them:  
The apoplexy, catarrh, or cough o'th' lungs,  
Would do as much as they do.  Bos. 
Doth not death fright you?  Duch. 
Who would be afraid on't?  
Knowing to meet such excellent company  
In th'other world.  Bos. 
Yet, methinks,  
The manner of your death should much afflict you,  
This cord should terrify you?  Duch. 
Not a whit,  
What would it pleasure me, to have my throat cut  
With diamonds? or to be smothered  
With Cassia? or to be shot to death, with pearls?  
I know death hath ten thousand several doors  
For men to take their Exits: and 'tis found  
They go on such strange geometrical hinges,  
You may open them both ways: any way, (for heaven's sake)  
So I were out of your whispering: Tell my brothers,  
That I perceive death, (now I am well a wake)  
Best gift is, they can give, or I can take,  
I would fain put off my last woman's-fault,  
I'd not be tedious to you.  Exec 
We are ready.  Duch. 
Dispose my breath, how please you, but my body  
Bestow upon my women, will you?  Exec. 
Yes.  Duch. 
Pull, and pull strongly, for your able strength,  
Most pull down heaven upon me:  
Yet stay, heaven gates are not so highly arched  
As PRINCE's palaces, they that enter there  
Must go upon their knees: Come violent death,  
Serve for Mandragora, to make me sleep;  
Go tell my brothers, when I am laid out, They strangle her.  
They then may feed in quiet.  Bos. 
Where's the waiting woman?  
Fetch her: Some other strangle the children:  
Look you, there sleeps your mistress.  Cari. 
Oh you are damned  
Perpetually for this: My turn is next,  
Is't not so ordered?  Bos. 
Yes, and I am glad  
You are so well prepared for't.  Cari. 
You are deceived Sir,  
I am not prepared for't, I will not die,  
I will first come to my answer; and know  
How I have offended.  Bos. 
Come, dispatch her:  
You kept her counsel, now you shall keep ours.  Cari. 
I will not die, I must not, I am contracted  
To a young Gentleman.  Exec. 
Here's your wedding Ring.  Car. 
Let me but speak with the Duke: I'll discover  
Treason to his person.  Bos. 
Delays: throttle-her.  Exec. 
She bites: and scratches:  Car. 
If you kill me now  
I am damned: I have not been at Confession  
This two years:  Bos. 
When.  Car. 
I am quick with child.  Bos. 
Why then,  
Your credit's saved: bear her in toth' next room:  
Let this lie still.  Ferd. 
Is she dead?  Bos. 
she is what  
You'd have her: But here begin your pity, Shows the children strangled.  
Alas, how have these offended?  Ferd. 
The death  
Of young wolves, is never to be pitied.  Bos. 
Fix your eye here:  Ferd. 
Constantly.  Bos. 
Do you not weep?  
Other sins, only speak; Murder shrieks out:  
The Element of water, moistens the Earth,  
But blood flies upwards, and bedews the Heavens.  Ferd. 
Cover her face: Mine eyes dazzle she died young.  Bos. 
I think not so: her infelicity  
Seemed to have years too many.  Ferd. 
She, and I were Twins:  
And should I die this instant, I had lived  
Her Time to a minute.  Bos. 
It seems she was borne first:  
You have bloodily approved the ancient truth,  
That kindred commonly do worse agree  
Then remote strangers.  Ferd. 
Let me see her face again;  
Why didst not thou pity her: what an excellent  
Honest man, might'st thou have been  
If thou hadst borne her to some Sanctuary?  
Or (bold in a good cause) opposed thyself  
With thy advanced sword above thy head,  
Between her Innocence, and my Revenge?  
I bade thee, when I was distracted of my wits,  
Go kill my dearest friend, and thou hast done't.  
For let me but examine well the cause;  
What was the meanness of her match to me?  
Only I must confess, I had a hope  
(Had she continued widow) to have gained  
An infinite mass of Treasure by her death:  
And that was the main cause; her Marriage,  
That drew a stream of gall, quite through my heart;  
For thee, (as we observe in Tragedies  
That a good Actor many times is cursed  
For playing a villain's part) I hate thee for't:  
And (for my sake) say thou hast done much ill, well:  Bos. 
Let me quicken your memory: for I perceive  
You are falling into ingratitude: I challenge  
The reward due to my service.  Ferd. 
I'll tell thee,  
What I'll give thee,  Bos. 
Do:  Ferd. 
I'll give thee a pardon  
For this murder:  Bos. 
Hah?  Ferd. 
Yes: and 'tis  
The largest bounty I can study to do thee.  
By what authority didst thou execute  
This bloody sentence?  Bos. 
By yours  Ferd. 
Mine? was I her judge?  
Did any ceremonial form of Law,  
doom her to not-Being? did a complete jury  
Deliver her conviction up i'th' Court?  
Where shalt thou find this judgement registered  
Unless in hell? See: like a bloody fool  
Thou'st forfeited thy life, and thou shalt die for't.  Bos. 
The Office of justice is perverted quite  
When one Thief hangs another: who shall dare  
To reveal this:  Ferd. 
Oh, I'll tell thee:  
The Wolf shall find her Grave, and scrape it up:  
Not to devour the corpses, but to discover  
The horrid murder.  Bos. 
You; not I shall quake for't.  Ferd. 
Leave me:  Bos. 
I will first receive my Pension.  Ferd. 
You are a villain:  Bos. 
When your Ingratitude  
Is judge, I am so;  Ferd. 
O horror!  
That not the fear of him, which binds the devils  
Can prescribe man obedience.  
Never look upon me more.  Bos. 
Why fare thee well:  
Your brother, and yourself, are worthy men;  
You have a pair of hearts, are hollow Graves,  
Rotten, and rotting others: and your vengeance,  
(Like two-chained bullets) still goes arm in arm,  
You may be Brothers: for treason, like the plague,  
Doth take much in a blood: I stand like one  
That long hath ta'en a sweet, and golden dream.  
I am angry with myself, now that I wake.  Ferd. 
Get thee into some unknown part o'th' world  
That I may never see thee.  Bos. 
Let me know  
Wherefore I should be thus neglected? sir,  
I served your tyranny: and rather strove,  
To satisfy yourself, than all the world;  
And though I loathed the evil, yet I loved  
You that did council it: and rather sought  
To appear a true servant, than an honest man.  Ferd. 
I'll go hunt the Badger by Owl-light:  
'Tis a deed of darkness. Exit.  Bos. 
He's much distracted: Off my painted honour,  
While with vain hopes, our faculties we tire,  
We seem to sweat in ice, and freeze in fire;  
What would I do, were this to do again?  
I would not change my peace of conscience  
For all the wealth of Europe: She stirs; here's life:  
Return (fair soul) from darkness, and lead mine  
Out of this sensible Hell: She's warm, she breathes:  
Upon thy pale lips I will melt my heart  
To store them with fresh colour: who's there?  
Some cordial drink: Alas! I dare not call:  
So pity, would destroy pity: her Eye opes,  
And heaven in it, seems to ope, (that late was shut)  
To take me up to merry.  Dutch. 
Antonio.  Bos. 
Yes (Madam) he is living,  
The dead bodies you saw, were but feigned statues;  
He's reconciled to your brothers: the Pope hath wrought  
The atonement.  Dutch. 
Mercy. she dies,  Bos. 
Oh, she's gone again: there the cords of life broke:  
Oh sacred Innocence, that sweetly sleeps  
On Turtles feathers: whilst a guilty conscience  
Is a black Register, wherein is writ  
All our good deeds, and bad: a Perspective  
That shows us hell; that we cannot be suffered  
To do good when we have a mind to it?  
This is manly sorrow:  
These tears, I am very certain, never grew  
In my Mother's Milk. My estate is sunk  
Below the degree of fear: where were  
These penitent fountains, while she was living?  
Oh, they were frozen up: here is a sight  
As direful to my soul, as is the sword  
Unto a wretch hath slain his father: Come, I'll bear thee hence.  
And execute thy last will; that's deliver  
Thy body to the reverend dispose  
Of some good women: that the cruel tyrant  
Shall not deny me: Then I'll post to Milan,  
Where some what I will speedily enact  
Worth my dejection. Exit.    

ACTVS V.  

SCENA. I.  Antonio, Delio, Pescara, julia. Ant. 
What think you of my hope of reconcilement  
To the Aragonian brethren?  Del. 
I misdoubt it  
For though they have sent their letters of safe conduct  
For your repair to Milan, they appear  
But Nets, to entrap you: The Marquis of Pescara,  
Under whom you hold certain land in escheat,  
Much 'gainst his noble nature, hath been moved  
To seize those lands, and some of his dependants  
Are at this instant, making it their suit  
To be invested in your Revenues.  
I cannot think, they mean well to your life,  
That do deprive you of your means of life,  
Your living.  Ant. 
You are still an heretic.  
To any safety, I can shape myself.  Del. 
Here comes the Marquis: I will make myself  
Petitioner for some part of your land,  
To know whether it is flying.  Ant. 
I pray do.  Del. 
Sir, I have a suit to you.  Pesc. 
To me.  Del. 
An easy one:  
There is the Citadel of St. Bennet,  
With some demesnes, 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 give, nor you to take.  Del. 
No sir?  Pesc. 
I will give you ample reason for't,  
Soon in private: Here's the cardinal's Mistress.  Iul. 
My Lord, I am grown your poor Petitioner,  
And should be an ill beggar, had I not  
A Great man's letter, here (the Cardinals)  
To Court you in my favour.  Pesc. 
He entreats for you  
The Citadel of Saint Bennet, that belonged  
To the banished Bologna.  Iul. 
Yes:  Pesc. 
I could not have thought of a friend, I could  
Rather pleasure with it: 'tis yours:  Iul. 
Sir, I thank you:  
And he shall know how doubly I am engaged  
Both in your gift, and speediness of giving,  
Which makes your grant, the greater. Exit.  Ant. 
How they fortify  
Themselves with my ruin?  Del. 
Sir: I am  
Little bound to you:  Pesc. 
Why.  Del. 
Because you denied this suit, to me, and gav't  
To such a creature.  Pesc. 
Do you know what it was?  
It was Antonio's land: not forfeited  
By course of law; but ravished from his throat  
By the cardinal's entreaty: it were not fit  
I should bestow so main a piece of wrong  
Upon my friend: 'tis a gratification  
Only due to a Strumpet: for it is injustice;  
Shall I sprinkle the pure blood of Innocents  
To make those followers, I call my friends  
Look ruddier upon me? I am glad  
This land, (ta'en from the owner by such wrong)  
Returns again unto so foul an use,  
As Salary for his Lust. Learn, (good Delio)  
To ask noble things of me, and you shall find  
I'll be a noble giver.  Del. 
You instruct me well:  Ant 
Why, here's a man, now, would fright impudence  
From sauciest Beggars.  Pesc. 
Prince Ferdinand's come to Milan  
Sick (as they give out) of an Apoplexy:  
But some say, 'tis a frenzy; I am going  
To visit him. Exit.  Ant. 
'Tis a noble old fellow:  Del. 
What course do you mean to take, Antonio?  Ant. 
This night, I mean to venture all my fortune  
(Which is no more, than a poor lingering life)  
To the cardinal's worst of malice: I have got  
Private access to his chamber: and intend  
To visit him, about the mid of night.  
(As once his brother did our noble Duchess.)  
It may be that the sudden apprehension  
Of danger (for I'll go in mine own shape)  
When he shall see it freight with love, and duty,  
May draw the poison out of him, and work  
A friendly reconcilement; if it fail;  
Yet, it shall rid me of this infamous calling,  
For better fall once, then be ever falling.  Del. 
I'll second you in all danger: and( howe'er)  
My life keeps rank with yours  Ant. 
You are still my loved, and best friend. Exeunt.   

SCENA. II.  Pescara, a Doctor, Ferdinand, Cardinal, Malateste, Bosola, julia. Pesc. 
Now Doctor; may I visit your Patient?  Doctor. 
If't please your Lordship: but he's instantly  
To take the air here in the Gallery,  
By my direction.  Pesc. 
Prithee, what's his disease?  Doc. 
A very pestilent disease (my Lord)  
They call lycanthropia.  Pesc. 
What's that?  
I need a Dictionary to't.  Doc. 
I'll tell you:  
In those that are possessed with't there o'erflows  
Such melancholy humour, they imagine  
Themselves to be transformed into Wolves,  
Steal forth to Churchyards in the dead of night,  
And dig dead bodies up: as two nights since  
One met the Duke, 'bout midnight in a lane  
Behind St. Marks Church, with the leg of a man  
Upon his shoulder; and he howled fearfully:  
Said he was a wolf: only the difference  
Was, a wolf's skin was hairy on the outside,  
His on the Inside: bade them take their swords,  
Rip up his flesh, and try: straight I was sent for,  
And having ministered to him, found his Grace  
Very well recovered.  Pesc. 
I am glad on't,  Doc. 
Yet not without some fear  
Of a relapse: if he grow to his fit again  
I'll go a nearer way to work with him  
Then ever Paracelsus dreamed of: If  
They'll give me leave I'll buffet his madness out of him.  
Stand aside: he comes.  Ferd. 
Leave me.  Mal. 
Why doth your Lordship love this solitariness?  Ferd. 
Eagles commonly fly alone: They are Crows, Daws, and  
starlings that flock together: Look, what's that,  
Follows me?  Mal. 
Nothing (my Lord)  Ferd. 
Yes:  Mal. 
'Tis your shadow.  Ferd. 
Stay it, let it not haunt me.  Mal. 
Impossible; if you move, and the Sun shine:  Ferd. 
I will throttle it.  Mal. 
Oh, my Lord: you are angry with nothing.  Ferd. 
You are a fool:  
How is't possible I should catch my shadow  
Unless I fall upon't? When I go to Hell,  
I mean to carry a bribe: for look you  
Good gifts evermore make away, for the worst persons  Pesc. 
Rise good my Lord.  Ferd. 
I am studying the Art of Patience.  Pesc. 
'Tis a noble Virtue;  Ferd. 
To drive six Snails before me, from this town  
To Mosco; neither use Goad, nor Whip to them,  
But let them take their own time: (the patientest man i'th' world  
Match me for an experiment) and I'll crawl after  
Like a sheep-biter.  Card. 
Force him up.  Ferd. 
Use me well, you were best:  
What I have done, I have done: I'll confess nothing.  Doctor. 
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 have his beard sawed off, and his eye  
Brows filed more civil.  Doct. 
I must do mad tricks with him,  
For that's the only way on't. I have brought  
Your grace a salamander's skin, to keep you  
For sun-burning.  Ferd. 
I have cruel sore eyes.  Doct. 
The white of a cockatrice-egg is present remedy.  Ferd. 
Let it be a new laid one, you were best:  
Hide me from him: Physicians are like Kings,  
They brook no contradiction.  Doct. 
Now he begins to fear me,  
Now let me alone with him.  Card. 
How now, put off your gown?  Doct. 
Let me have some forty urinals filled with Rose-water:  
He, and I'll go pelt one another with them,  
Now he begins to fear me: Can you fetch a frisk, sir?  
Let him go, let him go upon my peril:  
I find by his eye, he stands in awe of me,  
I'll make him, as tame as a Dormouse.  Ferd. 
Can you fetch your frisks, sir: I will stamp him into a cullis:  
Flay off his skin, to cover one of the Anatomies,  
This rogue hath set i'th' cold yonder, in barber-chirurgeon's hall:  
Hence, hence, you are all of you, like beasts for sacrifice,  
There's nothing left of you, but tongue, and belly,  
Flattery, and lechery.  Pes. 
Doctor, he did not fear you throughly.  Doct. 
True, I was somewhat too forward.  Bos. 
Mercy upon me, what a fatal judgement  
Hath fall'n upon this Ferdinand?  Pes. 
Knows your grace  
What accident hath brought unto the Prince,  
This strange distraction?  Card. 
I must feign somewhat: Thus they say it grew.  
You have heard it rumoured for these many years,  
None of our family dies, but there is seen  
The shape of an old woman, which is given  
By tradition, to us, to have been murdered  
By her Nephews, for her riches: Such a figure  
One night (as the Prince sat up late at's book)  
Appeared to him, when crying out for help,  
The gentlemen of's chamber, found his grace  
All on a cold sweat, altered much in face  
And language: Since which apparition,  
He hath grown worse, and worse, and I much fear  
He cannot live.  Bos. 
Sir, I would speak with you.  Pes. 
We'll leave your grace,  
Wishing to the sick Prince, our noble Lord,  
All health of mind, and body.  Card. 
You are most welcome:  
Are you come? so: this fellow must not know  
By any means I had intelligence  
In our Duchess death: For (though I counselled it,)  
The full of all th'engagement seemed to grow  
From Ferdinand: Now sir, how fares our sister?  
I do not think but sorrow makes her look  
Like to an oft-dyed garment: She shall now  
Taste comfort from me: why do you look so wildly?  
Oh, the fortune of your master here, the Prince  
Dejects you, but be you of happy comfort:  
If you'll do on thing for me, I'll entreat  
Though he had a cold tombstone o'er his bones,  
I'd make you what you would be.  Bos. 
Any thing,  
Give it me in a breath, and let me sly to't:  
They that think long, small expedition win,  
For musing much o'th' end, cannot begin.  Jul. 
Sir, will you come in to Supper?  Card. 
I am busy, leave me.  Iul. 
What an excellent shape hath that fellow? Exit.  Card. 
'Tis thus: Antonio lurks here in Milan,  
inquire him out, and kill him: while he lives,  
Our sister cannot marry, and I have thought  
Of an excellent match for her: do this, and style me  
Thy advancement.  Bos. 
But by what means shall I find him out?  Card. 
There is a gentleman, called Delio  
Here in the Camp, that hath been long approved  
His loyal friend: Set eye upon that fellow,  
Follow him to Mass, may be Antonio,  
Although he do account religion  
But a School-name, for fashion of the world,  
May accompany him, or else go inquire out  
Delio's Confessor, and see if you can bribe  
Him to reveal it: there are a thousand ways  
A man might find to trace him: As to know,  
What fellows haunt the Jews, for taking up  
Great sums of money, for sure he's in want,  
Or else to go to th'Picture-makers, and learn  
Who brought her Picture lately, some of these  
Happily may take—  Bos. 
Well, I'll not freeze i'th' business,  
I would see that wretched thing, Antonio  
Above all sights i'th' world.  Card. 
Do, and be happy. Exit.  Bos. 
This fellow doth breed Bazalisques in's eyes,  
He's nothing else, but murder: yet he seems  
Not to have notice of the Duchess death:  
'Tis his cunning: I must follow his example,  
There cannot be a surer way to trace,  
Than that of an old Fox.  Iul. 
So, sir, you are well met.  Bos. 
How now?  Iul. 
Nay, the doors are fast enough:  
Now Sir, I will make you confess your treachery.  Bos. 
Treachery?  Iul. 
Yes, confess to me  
Which of my women 'twas you hired, to put  
Love-powder into my drink?  Bos. 
Love powder?  Iul. 
Yes, when I was at Malfi,  
Why should I fall in love with such a face else?  
I have already suffered for thee so much pain,  
The only remedy to do me good,  
Is to kill my longing.  Bos. 
Sure your Pistol holds  
Nothing but perfumes, or kissing comfits: excellent Lady,  
You have a pretty way on't to discover  
Your longing: Come, come, I'll disarm you,  
And arm you thus, yet this is wondrous strange.  Iul. 
Compare thy form, and my eyes together,  
You'll find my love 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 soldier.  Iul. 
The better,  
Sure, there wants fire, where there are no lively sparks  
Of roughness.  Bos. 
And I want compliment.  Iul. 
Why ignorance in courtship cannot make you do amiss,  
If you have a heart to do well.  Bos. 
You are very fair.  Iul. 
Nay, if you lay beauty to my charge,  
I must plead unguilty.  Bos. 
Your bright eyes  
Carry a Quiver of darts in them, sharper  
Than sunbeams.  Iul. 
You will mar me with commendation,  
Put yourself to the charge of courting me,  
Whereas now I woo you.  Bos. 
I have it, I will work upon this Creature,  
Let us grow most amorously familiar:  
If the great Cardinal now should see me thus,  
Would he not count me a villain?  Iul. 
No, he might count me a wanton,  
Not lay a scruple of offence on you:  
For if I see, and steal a Diamond,  
The fault is not i'th' ston, but in me the thief,  
That purloins it: I am sudden with you,  
We that are great women of pleasure, use to cut off  
These uncertain wishes, and unquiet longings,  
And in an instant join the sweet delight  
And the pretty excuse together: had you been in'th'street,  
Under my chamber window, even there  
I should have courted you.  Bos. 
Oh, you are an excellent Lady.  Iul. 
Bid me do somewhat for you presently,  
To express I love you.  Bos. 
I will, and if you love me,  
Fail not to effect it: The Cardinal is grown wondrous melancholy,  
Demand the cause, let him not put you off,  
With feigned excuse, discover the main ground on't.  Iul. 
Why would you know this?  Bos. 
I have depended on him,  
And I hear that he is fall'n in some disgrace  
With the Emperor, if he be, like the mice  
That forsake falling houses, I would shift  
To other dependence.  Iul. 
You shall not need follow the wars,  
I'll be your maintenance.  Bos. 
And I your loyal servant,  
But I cannot leave my calling.  Iul. 
Not leave an  
Ungrateful General, for the love of a sweet Lady?  
You are like some, cannot sleep in featherbeds,  
But must have blocks for their pillows.  Bos. 
Will you do this?  Iul. 
Cunningly.  Bos. 
Tomorrow I'll expect th'intelligence.  Iul. 
Tomorrow? get you into my Cabinet,  
You shall have it with you: do not delay me,  
No more than I do you: I am like one  
That is condemned: I have my pardon promised.  
But I would see it sealed: Go, get you in,  
You shall see me wind my tongue about his heart,  
Like a skein of silk.  Card. 
Where are you?  Seru. 
Here.  Card. 
Let none upon your lives  
Have conference with the Prince Ferdinand,  
Unless I know it: In this distraction  
He may reveal the murder:  
Yond's my lingering consumption:  
I am weary of her; and by any means  
Would be quit off.  Iul. 
How now, my Lord?  
What ails you?  Card. 
Nothing.  Iul. 
Oh, you are much altered:  
Come, I must be your Secretary, and remove  
This lead from off your bosom, what's the matter?  Card. 
I may not tell you▪  Iul. 
Are you so far in love with sorrow,  
You cannot part, with part of it? or think you  
I cannot love your grace, when you are sad,  
As well as merry? or do you suspect  
I, that have been a secret to your heart,  
These many winters, cannot be the same  
Unto your tongue?  Card. 
Satisfy thy longing,  
The only way to make thee keep my council,  
Is not to tell thee.  Iul. 
Tell your echo this,  
Or flatterers, that (like echoes) still report  
What they hear (though most imperfect) and not me:  
For, if that you be true unto yourself,  
I'll know.  Card. 
Will you rack me?  Iul. 
No, judgement shall  
Draw it from you: It is an equal fault,  
To tell one's secrets, unto all, or none.  Card. 
The first argues folly.  Iul. 
But the last tyranny.  Card. 
Very well, why imagine I have committed  
Some secret deed, which I desire the world  
May never hear of?  Iul. 
Therefore may not I know it?  
You have concealed for me, as great a sin  
As adultery: Sir, never was occasion  
For perfect trial of my constancy  
Till now: Sir, I beseech you.  Card. 
You'll repent it.  Iul. 
Never.  Card. 
It hurries thee to ruin: I'll not tell thee,  
Be well advised, and think what danger 'tis  
To receive a PRINCE's secrets: they that do,  
Had need have their breasts hooped with adamant  
To contain them: I pray thee yet be satisfied,  
Examine thine own frailty, 'tis more easy  
To tie knots, then unloose them: 'tis a secret  
That (like a lingering poison) may chance lie  
Spread in thy veins, and kill thee seven year hence.  Iul. 
Now you dally with me.  Card. 
No more, thou shalt know it.  
By my appointment, the great Duchess of Malfi,  
And two of her young children, four nights since  
Were strangled.  Iul. 
Oh heaven! (sir) what have you done?  Card. 
How now? how settles this? think you your  
Bosom will be a grave, dark and obscure enough  
For such a secret?  Iul. 
You have undone yourself (sir.)  Card. 
Why?  Iul. 
It lies not in me to conceal it.  Card. 
No? come, I will swear you to't upon this book.  Iul. 
Most religiously.  Card. 
Kiss it.  
Now you shall never utter it, thy curiosity  
Hath undone thee: thou'rt poisoned with that book,  
Because I knew thou couldst not keep my council,  
I have bound the to't by death.  Bos. 
For pity's sake, hold.  Card. 
Ha, Bosola?  Iul. 
I forgive you,  
This equal piece of justice you have done:  
For I betrayed your council to that fellow,  
He over heard it; that was the cause I said  
It lay not in me, to conceal it.  Bos. 
Oh foolish woman,  
Couldst not thou have poisoned him?  Iul. 
'Tis weakness,  
Too much to think what should have been done,  
I go, I know not whether.  Card. 
Wherefore com'st thou hither?  Bos. 
That I might find a great man, (like yourself,)  
Not out of his wits (as the Lord Ferdinand)  
To remember my service.  Card. 
I'll have thee hewed in pieces.  Bos. 
Make not yourself such a promise of that life  
Which is not yours, to dispose of.  Car. 
Who placed 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 fair marble colours,  
Upon your rotten purposes to me?  
Unless you imitate some that do plot great Treasons,  
And when they have done, go hide themselves i'th' graves,  
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 fool's Pilgrimage.  Card. 
I have honours in store for thee.  Bos. 
There are a many ways that conduct to seeming  
Honour, and some of them very dirty ones.  Card. 
Throw to the devil  
Thy melancholy, the fire burns well,  
What need we keep a stirring of Wand and make  
A greater smoother? thou wilt kill Antonio?  Bos. 
Yes.  Card. 
Take up that body.  Bos. 
I think I shall  
Shortly grow the common Bear, for Churchyards?  Card. 
I will allow thee some dozen of attendants,  
To aid thee in the murder.  Bos. 
Oh, by no means,  
Physicians that apply horse-leeches to any rank swelling,  
Use to cut of their tails, that the blood may run through them  
The faster: Let me have no train, when I go to shed blood,  
lest it make me have a greater, when I ride to the Gallows.  Card. 
Come to me after midnight, to help to remove that body  
To her own Lodging: I'll give out she died o'th' Plague;  
'Twill breed the less enquiry after her death.  Bos. 
Where's Castruchio, her husband?  Card. 
He's rod to Naples to take possession  
Of Antonio's Citadel.  Bos. 
Believe me, you have done a very happy turn.  Card. 
Fail not to come: There is the Master-key  
Of our Lodgings: and by that you may conceive  
What trust I plant in you. Exit.  Bos. 
You shall find me ready.  
Oh poor Antonio, though nothing be so needful  
To thy estate, as pity, Yet I find  
Nothing so dangerous: I must look to my footing;  
In such slippery ice-pavements, men had need  
To be frost-nailed well: they may break their necks else.  
The President's here afore me: how this man  
Bears up in blood? seems fearless? why, 'tis well:  
Security some men call the Suburbs of Hell,  
Only a dead wall between. Well (good Antonio)  
I'll seek thee out; and all my care shall be  
To put thee into safety from the reach  
Of these most cruel biters, that have got  
Some of thy blood already. It may be,  
I'll join with thee, in a most just revenge.  
The weakest Arm is strong enough, that strikes  
With the sword of justice: Still methinks the Duchess  
Haunts me: there, there: 'tis nothing but my melancholy.  
O Penitence, let me truly taste thy Cup.  
That throws men down, only to raise them up. Exit.   

SCENA. III.  Antonio, Delio, Echo, (from the Duchess Grave.) Del. 
Yond's the Cardinal's window: This fortification  
Grew from the ruins of an ancient Abbey:  
And to yond side o'th' river, lies a wall  
(Piece of a Cloister) which in my opinion  
Gives the best Echo, that you ever heard;  
So hollow, and so dismal, and withal  
So plain in the distinction of our words,  
That many have supposed it is a Spirit  
That answers.  Ant. 
I do love these ancient ruins:  
We never tread upon them, but we set  
Our foot upon some reverend History,  
And questionless, here in this open Court  
(Which now lies naked to the injuries  
Of stormy weather) some men lie Interred  
Loved the Church so well, and gave so largely to't,  
They thought it should have canopied their Bones  
Till doomsday: But all things have their end:  
Churches, and Cities (which have diseases like to men)  
Must have like death that we have.  Echo. 
Like death that we have.  Del. 
Now the Echo hath caught you:  Ant. 
It groaned( methought) and gave  
A very deadly Accent?  Echo. 
Deadly Accent.  Del. 
I told you 'twas a pretty one: You may make it  
A Huntsman, or a falconer, a Musician,  
Or a Thing of Sorrow.  Echo. 
A Thing of Sorrow.  Ant. 
I sure: that suits it best.  Echo. 
That suits it best.  Ant. 
'Tis very like my wife's voice.  Echo. 
ay, wives-voice.  Del. 
Come: let's us walk farther from't:  
I Would not have you go toth' Cardinals tonight:  
Do not.  Echo. 
Do not.  Del. 
Wisdom doth not more moderate, wasting Sorrow  
Then time: take time for't: be mindful of thy safety.  Echo. 
Be mindful of thy safety.  Ant. 
Necessity compels me:  
Make scrutiny throughout the passes  
Of your own life; you'll find it impossible  
To fly your fate.  
O fly your fate.  Del. 
Hark: the dead stones seem to have pity on you  
And give you good counsel.  Ant. 
Echo, I will not talk with thee;  
For thou art a dead Thing.  Echo. 
Thou art a dead Thing.  Ant. 
My Duchess is asleep now,  
And her litle-Ones, I hope sweetly: oh Heaven  
Shall I never see her more?  Echo. 
Never see her more:  Ant. 
I marked not one repetition of the Echo  
But that: and on the sudden, a clear light  
Presented me a face folded in sorrow.  Del. 
Your fancy; merely.  Ant. 
Come: I'll be out of this Ague;  
For to live thus, is not indeed to live:  
It is a mockery, and abase of life,  
I will not henceforth save myself by halves,  
Lose all, or nothing.  Del. 
Your own virtue save you:  
I'll fetch your eldest son; and second you:  
It may be that the sight of his own blood  
Spread in so sweet a figure, may beget  
The more compassion.  
however, fare you well:  
Though in our miseries, Fortune have a part,  
Yet, in our noble sufferings, she hath none,  
Contempt of pain, that we may call our own. Exe.   

SCENA. IIII.  Cardinal, Pescara, Malateste, Rodorigo, Grisolan, Bosola, Ferdinand, Antonio, Servant. Card. 
You shall not watch tonight by the sick Prince,  
His Grace is very well recovered.  Mal. 
Good my Lord suffer us.  Card. 
Oh, by no means:  
The noise, and change of object in his eye,  
Doth more distract him: I pray, all to bed,  
And though you hear him in his violent fit,  
Do not rise, I entreat you.  Pes. 
So sir, we shall not,  Card. 
Nay, I must have you promise  
Upon your honours, for I was enjoined to't  
By himself; and he seemed to urge it sensibly.  Pes. 
Let out honours bind this trifle.  Card. 
Nor any of your followers.  Mal. 
Neither.  Card. 
It may be to make trial of your promise  
When he's asleep, myself will rise, and feign  
Some of his mad tricks, and cry out for help,  
And feign myself in danger.  Mal. 
If your throat were cutting,  
I'd not come at you, now I have protested against it.  Card. 
Why, I thank you.  Gris. 
'Twas a foul storm tonight.  Rod. 
The Lord Ferdinand's chamber, shook like an Osier.  Mal. 
'Twas nothing but pure kindness in the Devil,  
To rock his own child. Exeunt.  Card. 
The reason why I would not suffer these  
About my brother, is, because at midnight  
I may with better privacy, convey  
Julia's body, to her own Lodging: O, my Conscience!  
I would pray now: but the Devil takes away my heart  
For having any confidence in Prayer.  
About this hour, I appointed Bosola  
To fetch the body: when he hath served my turn,  
He dies. Exit.  Bos. 
Hah? 'twas the cardinal's voice: I heard him name,  
Bosola, and my death: listen, I hear one's footing.  Ferd. 
Strangling is a very quiet death.  Bos. 
Nay then I see, I must stand upon my Guard.  Ferd. 
What say 'to that? whisper, softly: do you agree to't?  
So it must be done i'th' dark: the Cardinal  
Would not for a thousand pounds, the Doctor should see it. Exit.  Bos. 
My death is plotted; here's the consequence of murder.  
"We value not desert, nor Christian breath,  
When we know black deeds, must be cured with death.  Ser. 
Here stay Sir, and be confident, I pray:  
I'll fetch you a dark lantern. Exit.  Ant. 
Could I take him at his prayers,  
There were hope of pardon.  Bos. 
Fall right my sword:  
I'll not give thee so much leisure, as to pray.  Ant. 
Oh, I am gone: Thou hast ended a long suit,  
In a minute.  Bos. 
What art thou?  Ant. 
A most wretched thing,  
That only have thy benefit in death,  
To appear myself.  Ser. 
Where are you Sir?  Ant. 
Very near my home: Bosola?  Ser. 
Oh misfortune.  Bos. 
Smother thy pity, thou art dead else: Antonio?  
The man I would have saved 'bove mine own life?  
We are merely the Stars tennis-balls (struck, and banded  
Which way please them) oh good Antonio,  
I'll whisper one thing in thy dying ear,  
Shall make thy heart break quickly: Thy fair Duchess  
And two sweet Children.  Ant. 
Their very names  
Kindle a little life in me.  Bos. 
Are murdered!  Ant. 
Some men have wished to die.  
At the hearing of sad tidings: I am glad  
That I shall do't in sadness: I would not now  
Wish my wounds balmed, nor healed: for I have no use  
To put my life to: In all our Quest of Greatness;  
(Like wanton Boys, whose pastime is their care)  
We follow after bubbles, blown in th'air.  
Pleasure of life, what is't? only the good hours  
Of an Ague: merely a preparative to rest,  
To endure vexation: I do not ask  
The process of my death: only commend me  
To Delio.  Bos. 
Break heart:  Ant. 
And let my Son, fly the Courts of Princes,  Bos. 
Thou seem'st to have loved Antonio?  Ser. 
I brought him hither,  
To have reconciled him to the Cardinal.  Bos. 
I do not ask thee that:  
Take him up, if thou tender thine own life,  
And bear him, where the Lady julia  
Was wont to lodge: Oh, my fate moves swift.  
I have this Cardinal, in the forge already,  
Now I'll bring him to th'hammer: (O direful misprision:)  
I will not Imitate things glorious,  
No more than base: I'll be mine own example.  
On, on: and look thou represent, for silence,  
The thing thou bear'st. Exeunt.   

SCENA. V.  Cardinal (with a Book) Bosola, Pescara, Malateste, Rodorigo. Ferdinand, Delio, Servant with Antonio's body. Card. 
I am puzzled in a question about hell:  
He says, in hell, there's one material fire,  
And yet it shall not burn all men alike.  
Lay him by: How tedious is a guilty conscience?  
When I look into the Fishponds, in my Garden,  
methinks I see a thing, armed with a Rake  
That seems to strike at me: Now? art thou come? thou look'st ghastly:  
There sits in thy face, some great determination,  
Mixed with some fear.  Bos. 
Thus it lightens into Action:  
I am come to kill thee.  Card. 
Hah? help: our Guard.  Bos. 
Thou art deceived:  
They are out of thy howling.  Card. 
Hold: and I will faithfully divide  
Revenues with thee.  Bos. 
Thy prayers, and proffers  
Are both unseasonable.  Card. 
Raise the Watch: we are betrayed.  Bos. 
I have confined your flight:  
I'll suffer your retreat to Julia's Chamber,  
But no further.  Card. 
Help: we are betrayed.  Mal. 
Listen:  Card. 
My Dukedom, for rescue.  Rod. 
Fie upon his counterfeiting.  Mal. 
Why, 'tis nor the Cardinal.  Rod. 
Yes, yes, 'tis he:  
But I'll see him hanged, ere I'll go down to him.  Card. 
Here's a plot upon me, I am assaulted: I am lost,  
Unless some rescue.  Gris. 
He doth this pretty well:  
But it will not serve; to laugh me out of mine honour.  Card. 
The sword's at my throat:  Rod. 
You would not bawl so loud then.  Mal. 
Come, come: let's go to bed: he told us thus much aforehand.  Pesc. 
He wished you should not come at him: but believe't,  
The accent of the voice sounds not in jest.  
I'll down to him, howsoever, and with engines  
Force ope the doors.  Rod. 
Let's follow him aloof,  
And note how the Cardinal will laugh at him.  Bos. 
There's for you first: 'cause you shall not unbarricade the door  
To let in rescue. He kills the Servant.  Card. 
What cause hast thou to pursue my life?  Bos. 
Look there:  Card. 
Antonio?  Bos. 
Slain by my hand unwittingly:  
Pray, and be sudden: when thou killed'st thy sister,  
Thou tookst from justice her most equal balance,  
And left her nought but her sword.  Card. 
O mercy.  Bos. 
Now it seems thy Greatness was only outward:  
For thou fallest faster of thyself, than calamity  
Can drive thee: I'll not waste longer time: There  Card. 
Thou hast hurt me:  Bos. 
Again:  Card. 
Shall I die like a Leveret  
Without any resistance? help, help, help:  
I am slain.  Ferd. 
Th'Alarum? give me a fresh horse:  
Rally the vanguard: or the day is lost:  
Yield, yield: I give you the honour of Arms,  
Shake my Sword over you, will you yield?  Card. 
Help me, I am your brother.  Ferd. 
The devil?  
My brother fight upon the adverse party? He wounds the Cardinal, and (in the scuffle) gives Bosola his death wound.  
There flies your ransom.  Card. 
Oh justice:  
I suffer now, for what hath former been:  
"Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.  Ferd. 
Now you're brave follows:  
Caesar's Fortune was harder than Pompey's:  
Caesar died in the arms of prosperity,  
Pompey at the feet of disgrace: you both died in the field,  
The pain's nothing: pain many times, is taken away, with  
The apprehension of greater, (as the toothache with the sight  
Of a barber, that comes to pull it out) there's Philosophy for you.  Bos. 
Now my revenge is perfect: sink (thou main cause  
Of my undoing) the last part of my life,  
Hath done me best service. He kills Ferdinand.  Ferd. 
Give me some wet hay, I am broken winded,  
I do account this world but a dog-kennel:  
I will vault credit, and affect high pleasures,  
Beyond death.  Bos. 
He seems to come to himself, now he's so near 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 own dust.  Card. 
Thou hast thy payment too.  Bos. 
Yes, I hold my weary soul, in my teeth,  
'Tis ready to part from me: I do glory  
That thou, which stood'st like a huge pyramid  
Begun upon a large, and ample base,  
Shalt end in a little point a kind of nothing.  Pes. 
How now (my Lord?)  Mal. 
Oh sad disaster.  Rod. 
How comes this?  Bos. 
Revenge, for the Duchess of Malfi, murdered  
By th'Aragonian brethren: for Antonio,  
Slain by his hand: for lustful julia,  
Poisoned by this man: and lastly, for myself,  
(That was an Actor in the main of all,  
Much 'gainst mine own good nature, yet i'th' end  
Neglected.)  Pes. 
How now (my Lord?)  Card. 
Look to my brother:  
He gave us these large wounds, as we were struggling  
Here i'th' rushes: And now, I pray, let me  
Be laid by, and never thought of.  Pes. 
How fatally (it seems) he did withstand,  
His own rescue?  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 have often seen  
In a play: Oh, I am gone,  
We are only like dead walls, or vaulted graves,  
That ruined, yields no echo: Fare you well,  
It may be pain: but no harm to me to die,  
In so good a quarrel: Oh this gloomy world,  
In what a shadow, or deep pit of darkness,  
Doth (womanish, and fearful) mankind live?  
Let worthy minds, ne'er stagger in distrust  
To suffer death, or shame for what is just,  
Mine is another voyage.  Pes. 
The noble Delio, as I came to th'palace,  
Told me of Antonio's being here, and showed me  
A pretty gentlemen his son and heir.  Mal. 
Oh Sir, you come too late.  Del. 
I heard so, and  
Was armed for't ere I came: Let us make noble use  
Of this great ruin; and join all our force  
To establish this young hopeful Gentleman  
In's mother's right. These wretched eminent things  
Leave no more fame behind 'em, then should one  
Fall in a frost, and leave his print in snow,  
As soon as the sun shines, it ever melts,  
Both form, and matter: I have ever thought  
Nature doth nothing so great, for great men,  
As when she's pleased, to make them Lords of truth:  
"Integrity of life, is fame's best friend,  
Which nobly (beyond Death) shall crown the end. Exeunt.   
FINIS.