BOSOLA: And I want compliment.
JULIA: Why, ignorance in courtship cannot make you do amiss,
If you have a heart to do well.
BOSOLA: You are very fair.
JULIA: Nay, if you lay beauty to my charge,
I must plead unguilty.
BOSOLA: Your bright eyes
Carry a quiver of darts in them, sharper
Than sun-beams.
JULIA: You will mar me with commendation,
Put yourself to the charge of courting me,
Whereas now I woo you.
BOSOLA: [aside] I have it; I will work upon this creature —
Let us grow most amorously familiar.
If the great cardinal should see me thus,
Would he not count me a villain?
JULIA: 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’ stone 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 i’th’ street,
Under my chamber window, even there
I should have courted you.
BOSOLA: O, you are an excellent lady!
JULIA: Bid me do somewhat for you presently,
To express I love you.
BOSOLA: 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 feign’d excuse; discover the main ground on’t.
JULIA: Why would you know this?
BOSOLA: 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.
JULIA: You shall not need follow the wars.
I’ll be your maintenance.
BOSOLA: And I your loyal servant;
But I cannot leave my calling.
JULIA: Not leave
An ungrateful general, for the love of a sweet lady?
You are like some cannot sleep in feather-beds,
But must have blocks for their pillows.
BOSOLA: Will you do this?
JULIA: Cunningly.
BOSOLA: Tomorrow, I’ll expect th’intelligence.
JULIA: 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 condemn’d; I have my pardon promis’d,
But I would see it seal’d. Go, get you in.
You shall see me wind my tongue about his heart
Like a skein of silk.
Exit Bosola
Enter CARDINAL and SERVANTS
CARDINAL: Where are you?
SERVANTS: Here.
CARDINAL: Let none, upon your lives
Have conference with the prince Ferdinand,
Unless I know it.
Exit servants
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 of.
JULIA: How now, my lord, what ails you?
CARDINAL: Nothing.
JULIA: O, you are much alter’d!
Come, I must be your secretary, and remove
This lead from off your bosom. What’s the matter?
CARDINAL: I may not tell you.
JULIA: 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?
CARDINAL: Satisfy thy longing.
The only way to make thee keep my counsel
Is not to tell thee.
JULIA: 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.
CARDINAL: Will you rack me?
JULIA: No, judgement shall
Draw it from you. It is an equal fault
To tell one’s secrets unto all or none.
CARDINAL: The first argues folly.
JULIA: But the last tyranny.
CARDINAL: Very well; why, imagine I have committed
Some secret deed, which I desire the world
May not hear of.
JULIA: Therefore may not I know it?
You have conceal’d for me as great a sin
As adultery. Sir, never was occasion
For perfect trial of my constancy
Till now: sir, I beseech you —
CARDINAL: You’ll repent it.
JULIA: Never.
CARDINAL: It hurries thee to ruin. I’ll not tell thee.
Be well advis’d, and think what danger ’tis
To receive a prince’s secrets. They that do
Had need have their breasts hoop’d with adamant
To contain them. I pray thee yet be satisfied.
Examine thine own frailty; ’tis more easy
To tie knots, than unloose them. ’Tis a secret
That, like a lingering poison, may chance lie
Spread in thy veins, and kill thee seven year hence.
JULIA: Now you dally with me.
CARDINAL: No more, thou shalt know it.
By my appointment, the great Duchess of Malfi,
And two of her young children, four nights since,
Were strangl’d.
JULIA: O heaven! Sir, what have you done?
CARDINAL: How now! How settles this? Think you
Your bosom will be a grave dark and obscure enough
For such a secret?
JULIA: You have undone yourself, sir.
CARDINAL: Why?
JULIA: It lies not in me to conceal it.
CARDINAL: No! Come, I will swear you to’t upon this book.
JULIA: Most religiously.
CARDINAL: Kiss it.
Now you shall never utter it; thy curiosity
Hath undone thee. Thou art poison’d with that book.
Because I knew thou couldst not keep my counsel,
I have bound thee to’t by death.
Enter BOSOLA
BOSOLA: For pity sake, hold!
CARDINAL: Ha, Bosola!
JULIA: I forgive you
This equal piece of justice you have done;
For I betray’d your counsel to that fellow.
He overheard it; that was the cause I said
It lay not in me to conceal it.
BOSOLA: O, foolish woman,
Couldst not thou have poison’d him?
JULIA: ’Tis weakness,
Too much to think what should have been done.
I go, I know not whither.
Dies
CARDINAL: Wherefore com’st thou hither?
BOSOLA: That I might find a great man, like yourself,
Not out of his wits, as the Lord Ferdinand,
To remember my service.
CARDINAL: I’ll have thee hew’d in pieces!
BOSOLA: Make not yourself such a promise of that life
Which is not yours to dispose of.
CARDINAL: Who plac’d thee here?
BOSOLA: Her lust, as she intended.
CARDINAL: Very well. Now you know me
For your fellow-murderer.
BOSOLA: And wherefore should you lay your 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?
CARDINAL: No more.
There is a fortune attends thee.
BOSOLA: Shall I go sue to fortune any longer?
’Tis the fool’s pilgrimage.
CARDINAL: I have honors in store for thee.
BOSOLA: There are a many ways that conduct to seeming
Honor, and some of them very dirty ones.
CARDINAL: Throw to the devil
Thy melancholy. The fire burns well;
What need we keep a stirring of’t, and make
A greater smother? Thou wilt kill Antonio?
BOSOLA: Yes.
CARDINAL: Take up that body.
BOSOLA: I think I shall
Shortly grow the common bier for church-yards.
CARDINAL: I will allow thee some dozen of attendants,
To aid thee in the murder.
BOSOLA: O, by no means.
Physicians that apply horseleeches to any rank swelling
Use to cut off 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.
CARDINAL: 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.
BOSOLA: Where’s Castruchio, her husband?
CARDINAL: He’s rode to Naples, to take possession
Of Antonio’s citadel.
BOSOLA: Believe me, you have done a very happy turn.
CARDINAL: Fail not to come. There is the master-key
Of our lodgings, and by that you may conceive
What trust I plant in you.
BOSOLA: You shall find me ready.
Exit CARDINAL
O, 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-nail’d well, they may break their necks else.
The precedent’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 cares 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!
Exits
ACT V, SCENE III
A church graveyard
Enter ANTONIO and DELIO
DELIO: 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 suppos’d it is a spirit
That answers.
ANTONIO: 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 interr’d
Lov’d 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: [from the Duchess’ grave] Like death that we have.
DELIO: Now the echo hath caught you.
ANTONIO: It groan’d, methought, and gave
A very deadly accent.
ECHO: Deadly accent.
DELIO: 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.
ANTONIO: Ay sure, that suits it best.
ECHO: That suits it best.
ANTONIO: ’Tis very like my wife’s voice.
ECHO: Ay, wife’s voice.
DELIO: Come, let us walk farther from’t.
I would not have you go to th’ cardinal’s tonight.
Do not.
ECHO: Do not.
DELIO: Wisdom doth not more moderate wasting sorrow,
Than time. Take time for’t; be mindful of thy safety.
ECHO: Be mindful of thy safety.
ANTONIO: Necessity compels me.
Make scrutiny throughout the passages
Of your own life, you’ll find it impossible
To fly your fate.
ECHO: O fly your fate!
DELIO: Hark! The dead stones seem to have pity on you,
And give you good counsel.
ANTONIO: Echo, I will not talk with thee,
For thou art a dead thing.
ECHO: Thou art a dead thing.
ANTONIO: My duchess is asleep now,
And her little ones, I hope sweetly. O heaven,
Shall I never see her more?
ECHO: Never see her more.
ANTONIO: I mark’d not one repetition of the echo
But that; and on the sudden, a clear light
Presented me a face folded in sorrow.
DELIO: Your fancy merely.
ANTONIO: Come, I’ll be out of this ague,
For to live thus is not indeed to live;
It is a mockery and abuse of life.
I will not henceforth save myself by halves;
Lose all, or nothing.
DELIO: 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.
They exit
ACT V, SCENE IV
The CARDINAL’S palace
Enter CARDINAL, PESCARA, MALATESTE, RODERIGO, GRISOLAN
CARDINAL: You shall not watch tonight by the sick prince.
His grace is very well recover’d.
MALATESTE: Good, my lord, suffer us.
CARDINAL: O, 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.
PESCARA: So, sir, we shall not.
CARDINAL: Nay, I must have you promise
Upon your honors, for I was enjoin’d to’t
By himself, and he seem’d to urge it sensibly.
PESCARA: Let our honors bind this trifle.
CARDINAL: Nor any of your followers.
MALATESTE: Neither.
CARDINAL: 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.
MALATESTE: If your throat were cutting,
I’d not come at you, now I have protested against it.
CARDINAL: Why, I thank you. [he withdraws to one side]
GRISOLAN: ’Twas a foul storm tonight.
RODERIGO: The Lord Ferdinand’s chamber shook like an osier.
MALATESTE: ’Twas nothing but pure kindness in the devil,
To rock his own child.
Exit all but the Cardinal
CARDINAL: 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 CARDINAL, enter BOSOLA
BOSOLA: Ha! ’Twas the cardinal’s voice; I heard him name
Bosola, and my death. Listen, I hear one’s footing.
Enter FERDINAND
FERDINAND: Strangling is a very quiet death.
BOSOLA: [aside] Nay then, I see I must stand upon my guard.
FERDINAND: 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
BOSOLA: My death is plotted; here’s the consequence of murder.
We value not desert nor Christian breath,
When we know black deeds must be cur’d with death.
Enter SERVANT and ANTONIO
SERVANT: Here stay, sir, and be confident, I pray.
I’ll fetch you a dark lantern.
Exit
ANTONIO: Could I take him at his prayers,
There were hope of pardon.
BOSOLA: [stabs him in the dark] Fall right my sword!
I’ll not give thee so much leisure as to pray.
ANTONIO: O, I am gone! Thou hast ended a long suit
In a minute.
BOSOLA: What art thou?
ANTONIO: A most wretched thing,
That only have the benefit in death,
To appear myself.
Enter SERVANT with a light
SERVANT: Where are you, sir?
ANTONIO: Very near my home. Bosola?
SERVANT: O, misfortune!
BOSOLA: Smother thy pity, thou art dead else. Antonio?
The man I would have sav’d ‘bove mine own life!
We are merely the stars’ tennis balls, struck and banded
Which way please them. O good Antonio,
I’ll whisper one thing in thy dying ear,
Shall make thy heart break quickly. Thy fair duchess
And two sweet children —
ANTONIO: Their very names
Kindle a little life in me.
BOSOLA: — are murder’d.
Masters of the Theatre Page 66
