Masters of the Theatre

by Delphi Classics

  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.