BOSOLA: 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 chain’d 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.
FERDINAND: Get thee into some unknown part o’th’ world,
That I may never see thee.
BOSOLA: Let me know
Wherefore I should be thus neglected? Sir,
I serv’d your tyranny, and rather strove
To satisfy yourself, than all the world;
And though I loath’d the evil, yet I lov’d
You that did counsel it, and rather sought
To appear a true servant than an honest man.
FERDINAND: I’ll go hunt the badger by owl-light.
’Tis a deed of darkness.
Exit
BOSOLA: He’s much distracted. Off, my painted honor!
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 mercy.
DUCHESS: Antonio!
BOSOLA: Yes, madam, he is living.
The dead bodies you saw, were but feign’d statues.
He’s reconcil’d to your brothers; the Pope hath wrought
The atonement.
DUCHESS: Mercy!
She dies
BOSOLA: O, she’s gone again! There the cords of life broke.
O, 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 suffer’d
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?
O, 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 somewhat I will speedily enact
Worth my dejection.
Exit
ACT V, SCENE I
Rome, a few months later
Enter ANTONIO and DELIO
ANTONIO: What think you of my hope of reconcilement
To the Aragonian brethren?
DELIO: I misdoubt it,
For though they have sent letter 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 cheat,
Much ‘gainst his noble nature hath been mov’d
To seize those lands, and some of his dependents
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.
ANTONIO: You are still an heretic
To any safety I can shape myself.
DELIO: Here comes the Marquis. I will make myself
Petitioner for some part of your land
To know whither it is flying.
ANTONIO: I pray do.
Enter PESCARA
DELIO: Sir, I have a suit to you.
PESCARA: To me?
DELIO: 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.
PESCARA: You are my friend, but this is such a suit
Nor fit for me to give, nor you to take.
DELIO: No, sir?
PESCARA: I will give you ample reason for’t,
Soon in private. Here’s the cardinal’s mistress.
Enter JULIA
JULIA: My lord, I am grown your poor petitioner,
And should be an ill beggar had I not
A great man’s letter here, the cardinal’s,
To court you in my favor.
PESCARA: He entreats for you
The citadel of St. Bennet that belong’d
To the banish’d Bologna.
JULIA: Yes.
PESCARA: I could not have thought of a friend I could rather
Pleasure with it: ’tis yours.
JULIA: Sir, I thank you;
And he shall know how doubly I am engag’d
Both in your gift, and speediness of giving,
Which makes your grant the greater.
She exits
ANTONIO: [aside] How they fortify
Themselves with my ruin!
DELIO: Sir, I am
Little bound to you.
PESCARA: Why?
DELIO: Because you denied this suit to me, and gave’t
To such a creature.
PESCARA: Do you know what it was?
It was Antonio’s land, not forfeited
By course of law but ravish’d 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 a 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.
DELIO: You instruct me well.
ANTONIO: [aside] Why, here’s a man now would fright impudence
From sauciest beggars.
PESCARA: 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.
He exits
ANTONIO: ’Tis a noble old fellow.
DELIO: What course do you mean to take, Antonio?
ANTONIO: 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 fraight with love and duty,
May draw the poison out of him, and work
A friendly reconcilement. If it f
ail,
Yet it shall rid me of this infamous calling;
For better fall once, than be ever falling.
DELIO: I’ll second you in all danger, and, howe’er,
My life keeps rank with yours.
ANTONIO: You are still my lov’d and best friend.
They exit
ACT V, SCENE II
The CARDINAL’S palace in Rome
Enter PESCARA and DOCTOR
PESCARA: 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.
PESCARA: Pray thee, what’s his disease?
DOCTOR: A very pestilent disease, my lord,
They call lycanthropia.
PESCARA: What’s that?
I need a dictionary to’t.
DOCTOR: I’ll tell you.
In those that are possess’d 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. Mark’s Church, with the leg of a man
Upon his shoulder, and he howl’d 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 minister’d unto him, found his grace
Very well recover’d.
PESCARA: I am glad on’t.
DOCTOR: 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
Than ever Paracelsus dream’d of. If
They’ll give me leave, I’ll buffet his madness out of him.
Stand aside; he comes.
Enter FERDINAND, MALATESTE, CARDINAL, and BOSOLA
FERDINAND: Leave me.
MALATESTE: Why doth your lordship love this solitariness?
FERDINAND: Eagles commonly fly alone, They are crows,
Daws, and starlings that flock together. Look,
What’s that follows me?
MALATESTE: Nothing, my lord.
FERDINAND: Yes.
MALATESTE: ’Tis your shadow.
FERDINAND: Stay it; let it not haunt me.
MALATESTE: Impossible, if you move, and the sun shine.
FERDINAND: I will throttle it.
MALATESTE: O, my lord, you are angry with nothing.
FERDINAND: 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 way for the worst persons.
PESCARA: Rise, good my lord.
FERDINAND: I am studying the art of patience.
PESCARA: ’Tis a noble virtue.
FERDINAND: To drive six snails before me from this town
To Moscow; neither use goad nor whip to them,
But let them take their own time (the patient’st man i’th’ world
Match me for an experiment) and I’ll crawl
After like a sheep-biter.
CARDINAL: Force him up.
FERDINAND: 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?
FERDINAND: What’s he?
PESCARA: Your doctor.
FERDINAND: Let me have his beard saw’d off,
And his eyebrows fil’d more civil.
DOCTOR: 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
From sun-burning.
FERDINAND: I have cruel sore eyes.
DOCTOR: The white of a cockatrix’s egg is present remedy.
FERDINAND: Let it be new-laid one, you were best.
Hide me from him. Physicians are like kings,
They brook no contradiction.
DOCTOR: Now he begins to fear me.
Now let me be alone with him.
FERDINAND tries to undress, but they seize him
CARDINAL: How now? Put off your gown?
DOCTOR: 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.
FERDINAND: 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-Chirugeon’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.
FERDINAND runs off
PESCARA: Doctor, he did not fear you throughly.
DOCTOR: True, I was somewhat too forward.
BOSOLA: Mercy upon me, what a fatal judgement
Hath fall’n upon this Ferdinand!
PESCARA: Knows your grace
What accident hath brought unto the prince
This strange distraction?
CARDINAL: [aside] I must feign somewhat — Thus they say it grew:
You have heard it rumour’d 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 murder’d
By her nephews for her riches. Such a figure
One night, as the prince sat up late at’s book,
Appear’d to him. When crying out for help,
The gentleman of’s chamber found his grace
All on a cold sweat, alter’d much in face
And language, since which apparition,
He hath grown worse and worse, and I much fear
He cannot live.
BOSOLA: Sit, I would speak with you.
PESCARA: We’ll leave your grace,
Wishing to the sick prince, our noble lord,
All health of mind and body.
CARDINAL: You are most welcome.
Exit all but CARDINAL and BOSOLA
Are you come? So. [aside] This fellow must not know
By any means I had intelligence
In our duchess’ death; for though I counsel’d it,
The full of all th’ engagement seem’d to grow
From Ferdinand — Now, sir, how fares our sister?
I do not think but sorrow makes her look
Like to an oft-dy’d garment. She shall now
Taste comfort from me. Why do you look so wildly?
O, the fortune of your master here, the prince,
Dejects you; but be you of happy comfort.
If you’ll do one thing for me, I’ll entreat,
Though he had a cold tombstone o’er his bones,
I’d make you what you would be.
BOSOLA: Anything,
Give it me in a breath, and fly to’t.
They that think long, small expedition win,
For musing much o’th’ end, cannot begin.
Enter JULIA
JULIA: Sir, will you come in to supper?
CARDINAL: I am busy; leave me.
JULIA: [aside] What an excellent shape hath that fellow!
Exits
CARDINAL: ’Tis thus. Antonio lurks here in Milan.
Enquire him out, and ki
ll 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.
BOSOLA: But by what means shall I find him out?
CARDINAL: There is a gentleman call’d Delio,
Here in the camp, that hath been long approv’d
His loyal friend. Set eye upon that fellow;
Follow him to mass. Maybe Antonio,
Although he do account religion
But a school-name, for fashion of the world
May accompany him; or else go enquire out
Delio’s confessor, and see if you can bribe
Him to 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 bought her picture lately. Some of these
Happily may take.
BOSOLA: Well, I’ll not freeze i’th’ business.
I would see that wretched thing, Antonio,
Above all sights i’th’ world.
CARDINAL: Do, and be happy.
Exits
BOSOLA: This fellow doth breed basilisks 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.
Enter JULIA with a gun
JULIA: So, sir, you are well met.
BOSOLA: How now?
JULIA: Nay, the doors are fast enough.
Now, sir, I will make you confess your treachery.
BOSOLA: Treachery!
JULIA: Yes, confess to me
Which of my women ’twas you hired to put
Love-powder into my drink?
BOSOLA: Love-powder?
JULIA: Yes, when I was at Malfi.
Why should I fall in love with such a face else?
I have already suffer’d for thee so much pain,
The only remedy to do me good
Is to kill my longing.
BOSOLA: Sure your pistol holds
Nothing but perfumes, or kissing-comforts. 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.
JULIA: 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.
BOSOLA: Know you me, I am a blunt soldier.
JULIA: The better;
Sure, there wants fire, where there are no lively sparks
Of roughness.
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