The Tragedy of the Dutchesse of Malfy

Front matter

THE TRAGEDY

OF THE DUTCHESSE of Malfy.

As it was presented privatly, at the Black-Friers, and publiquely at the Globe, By the Kings Majesties Servants.

The Actors Names

The Actors Names.

Bosola, | I. Lowin.

Ferdinand, | 1 R. Burbidge.. 2 I. Taylor.

Cardinall, | 1 H. Cundaile. 2 R. Robinson.

Antonio, | 1 W. Ostler, 2 R. Benfoild.

Delio, | I. Underwood.

Forobosco, | N. Towley.

Malateste.

The Marquesse of Pescara, | I. Rice.

Silvio, | T. Pollard.

The severall mad men, | N. Towley. I. Underwood, &c.

The Dutchesse, | R. Sharpe.

The Cardinals Mis. | I. Tomson.

The Doctor | R. Pallant.

Cariola,

Court Officers.

Three young Children.

Two Pilgrimes.

To the Right Honourable, George Harding, Baron Barkeley

❧ TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE, 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 Lordshippe) 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 meanes, has your fame arrived at my knowledge, receiving it from some of worth, who both in contemplation, and practise, owe to your Honor their clearest service. I do not altogether looke up at your Title: The ancien'st Nobility, being but a rellique of time past, and the truest Honor indeede beeing for a man to conferre Honor on himselfe, which your Learning strives to propagate, and shall make you arrive at the Dignity of a great Example. I am confident this worke is not unworthy your Honors perusal for by such Poems as this, Poets have kist the hands of Great Princes, and drawne their gentle eyes to looke downe upon their sheetes of paper, when the Poets themselves were bound up in their winding-sheetes. The like curtesie from your Lordship, shall make you live in your grave, and laurell spring out of it when the ignorant scorners of the Muses ( that like wormes in Libraries, seeme to live onely, to destroy learning) shall wither, neglected, and forgotten. This worke and my selfe I humbly present to your approved censure. It being the utmost of my wishes, to have your Honorable selfe 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 Maister-peece of Tragœdy

In the just Worth, of that well Deserver, Mr. John Webster, and Upon this Maister-peece of Tragœdy.

I this thou imitat'st one Rich and Wise, That sees His Good Deedes done before he dies; As He by Workes, Thou by this Worke of Fame, Ha'st well provided for thy Living Name; To trust to others Honorings, is Worth's Crime, Thy Monument is rais'd in thy Life Time; And 'tis most just; for every Worthy Man Is his owne Marble; and his Merit can Cut him to any Figure, and expresse More Art, then Deaths Cathedrall Pallaces, Where Royall Ashes keepe their Court: thy Note Be ever plainnes, 'tis the Richest Coate: Thy Epitaph onely the Title bee, Write, Dutchesse, that will fetch a teare for thee, For who e're saw this Dutchesse live, and dye, That could get off under a Bleeding Eye?

In Tragædiam.

Ut 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 Dutchesse of Malfy

To his friend Mr. John Webster Upon his Dutchesse of Malfy.

I Never saw thy Dutchesse, till the day, That She was lively body'd in thy Play; How'ere she answer'd her low-rated Love, Her brothers anger, did so fatall proove, Yet my opinion is, she might speake more; But (never in her life) so well before.

Wil. Rowley.

To the Reader of the Authour, and his Dutchesse of Malfy

To the Reader of the Authour, and his Dutchesse of Malfy.

CRowne Him a Poet, whom nor Rome, nor Greece, Transcend in all their's, for a Master-peece: In which, Whiles words and matter change, and Men, Act one another; Hee, from whose cleare Pen. They All tooke life, To Memory hath lent A lasting Fame, to raise his Monument.

John Ford.

Act I, scene i

Actus Primus. Scena Prima.

Antonio, and Delio, Bosola, Cardmall.

Delio.

YOU are wel-come to your Country (deere Antonio} You have bin long in France, and you returne A very formall French-man, in your habit. How doe you like the French Court?

Ant. I admire it, In seeking to reduce both State, and People To a fix'd Order, there juditious King Begins at home: Quits first his Royall Pallace Of flattring Sicophants of dissolute, And infamous persons which he sweetely termes His Masters Master-peece (the worke of Heaven) Considring duely, that a Princes Court Is like a common Fountaine, whence should flow, Pure silver-droppes ingenerall: But if 't chance Some curs'd example poyson't neere the head, "Death, and diseases through the whole land spread. And what is't makes this blessed government, But a most provident Councell, who dare freely Informe him, the corruption of the times?

Though some oth' court hold it presumption To instruct Princes what they ought to doe, It is a noble duety to informe them What they ought to for-see. Here comes Bosola The onely Court-Gall: yet I observe his rayling Is not for simple love of Piety: Indeede he rayls at those things which he wants, Would be as leacherous, covetous, or proud, Bloody, or envious, as any man, If he had meanes to be so: Here's the Cardinall.

Bos. I doe haunt you still.

Card. So.

Bos. I have done you Better service then to be slighted thus: Miserable age, where onely the reward Of doing well, is the doing of it.

Card. You inforce your merrit to-much.

Bos. I fell into the Gallies in your service, Where, for two yeares together, I wore two Towells in stead of A shirt, with a knot on the shoulder, after the fashion of a Romaine Mantle: Slighted thus? I will thrive some way: Black-birds fatten best in hard weather: why not I, In these dogde dayes?

Card. Would you could become honest,

Bos. With all your divinity, do but direct me the way to it, I Have knowne many travell farre for it, and yet returne as Arrant knaves, as they went forth; because they carried Themselves alwayes a long with them; Are you gon? Some fellowes (they say) are possessed with the divell, But this great fellow, were able to possesse the greatest Divell, 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-pooles) they are rich, and ore-laden with Fruite, but none but Crowes, Pyes, and Cater-pillers feede On them: Could I be one of their flattring Panders, I Would hang on their eares like a horse-leach, till I were full, an

Then droppe off: I pray leave me. Who would relie upon these miserable dependances, in expectation to Be advanc'd to morrow? what creature, ever fed worse, than hoping Tantalus? nor ever did any man more fearefully, then he that hop'd For a pleadon: There are rewards for hawkes, and dogges, and When they have done us service; but for a Souldier, that hazards his Limbes in a battaile, nothing but a kind of Geometry, is his last Supportation.

Del. Geometry?

Bos. I, to hang in a faire pair of slings, take his latter-swinge in the World, upon an honourable pair of Crowtches, from hospitall To hospitall, fare ye well Sir. And yet do not you scorne us, for Places in the Court, are but likes beds in the hospitall, where this Mans head lies at that mans foote, and so lower, and lower.

Del. I knew this fellow (seaven yeares) in the Gallies, For a notorious murther; and 'twas thought The Cardinal suborn'd it: he was releas'drodocico, By the French Generall, (Gaston de Foux), When he recover'd Naples.

Ant. 'Tis great pity, He should be thus neglected, I have heard He's very valiant: This foule mellancholly Will poyson all his goodnesse, for (i'le tell you) If too immoderate sleepe, be truly sayd To be an inward rust unto the soule, It then doth follow want of action Breeds all blacke male-contents, and their close rearing (Like mothes in cloath) doe hurt for want of wearing.

Act I, scene ii

SCENA II.

Antonio, Delio, Ferdinand, Cardmall, Dutchesse, Castruchio, Silvio, Rodocico, Grisolan, Bosola, Julia, Cariola.

Del. The presence 'gins to fill: you promis'd me To make me the partaker of the natures Of some of your great courtiers.

Ant. The Lord Cardinalls And other strangers, that are now in Court, I shall: here comes the great Calabrian Duke.

Ferd. Who tooke the ring oftnest?

Sil. Antonio Bologna (my Lord)

Ferd. Our Sister Duchesse great Master of her household? Give him the Jewell: when shall we leave this sportive-action, And fall to action indeed?

Cast. Me thinks (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 Souldier arise to be a Prince, but not necessary A Prince descend to be a Captaine?

Ferd. Noe?

Cast. No, (my Lord) He were far better do it by a Deputy.

Ferd. Why should he not aswell sleepe, or eate, by a Deputy? This might take idle, offensive, and base office from him, Whereas the other deprives him of honour.

Cast. Beleeve my experience: that Realme is never long in quiet, Where the Ruler, is a Souldier.

Ferd. Thou toldst me Thy wife could not endure fighting.

Cast. True (my Lord.)

Ferd. And of a jest she broke of a Captaine, she met, full of wounds: I have forgot it.

Cast. She told him (my Lord) he was a pittiful fellow, to lie Like the Children of Ismael, all in Tents.

Ferd. Why, there's a wit were able to undoe All the Chyrurgeons o'the City, for although Gallants should quarrell, and had drawne their weapons, And were ready to goe to it; yet her perswasions would Make them put up.

Cast. That she would (my Lord) How doe you like my Spanish Gennit?

Rod. He is all fire.

Ferd. I am of Pliney's opinion, I thinke he was begot by the wind.

He runs as if he were ballass'd with Quick-silver.

Sil. True (my Lord) he reels from the Tilt-often.

Rod. Gris. Ha, ha, ha.

Ferd. Why do you laugh? Me thinks you that are Courtiers Should be my touch-wood, take fire, when I give fire; That is, laugh when I laugh, were the subject never so wity.

Cast. True (my Lord) I my selfe have heard a very good jest, And have scorn'd to seeme to have so silly a wit, as to understand it.

Ferd. But I can laugh at your Foole (my Lord.)

Cast. He cannot speake (you know) but he makes faces, My Lady cannot abide him.

Ferd. Noe?

Cast. Nor endure to be in merry Company: for she saies Too much laughing, and too much Company, fils her Too full of the wrinckle.

Ferd. I would then have a Mathematicall Instrument made for Her face, that she might not laugh out of compasse: I shall shortly Visit you at Millaine (Lord Silvio.)

Sil. Your Grace shall arrive most wel-come.

Ferd. You are a good Horse-man (Antonio) you have excellent Riders in France, what doe you thinke of good Horse-man-ship?

Ant. Noblely (my Lord) as out of the Grecian-horse, issued Many famous Princes: So, out of brave Horse-man-ship, Arise the first Sparkes of growing resolution, that raise The minde, to noble action.

Ferd. You have be-spoake it worthely.

Sil. Your brother, the Lord Cardinall, and sister Dutchesse.

Card. Are the Gallies 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 Cardinall? I meane his Temper? they say he's a brave fellow, Will play his five thousand crownes, at Tennis, Daunce, Court ladies, and one that hath fought single Combats.

Ant. Some such flashes superficially hang on him, for forme: But observe his inward Character: he is a mellancholly Church-man: The Spring in his face, is nothing but the

Ingendring of Toads; where he is jealous of any man, He laies worse plots for them, than ever was impos'd on Hercules, for he strewes in his way Flatters, Panders, Intelligencers, Atheists, and a thousand such politicall Monsters: he should have beene Pope: but in stead of Comming to it, by the primitive decencie of the church, He did bestow bribes, so largely, and so impudently, as if he would Have carried it away without heavens 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 appeares in him mirth is meerely outside, If he laugh hartely, it is to laugh All honesty out of fashion.

Del. Twins?

Ant. In qualitie: He speakes with others Tongues, and heares mens suites, With others Eares: will seeme to sleepe o'th bench Onely to intrap offenders in their answeres; Doombes men to death, by information, Rewards, by heare-say.

Del. Then the Law to him Is like a fowle black cob-web, to a Spider, He makes it his dwelling, and a prison To entangle those shall feede him.

Ant. Most true: He nev'r paies debts, unlesse they be shewed turnes, And those he will confesse, that he doth owe, Last: for his brother, there, (the Cardinall) They that doe flatter him most, say Oracles Hang at his lippes: and verely I beleeve them: For the Divell speakes in them. But for their sister, (the right noble Duchesse) You never fix'd you eye, on three faire Meddalls, Cast in one figure, of so different temper: For her discourse, it is so full of Rapture, You onely will begin, then to be sorry

When she doth end her speech: and wish (in wonder) She held it lesse vaine-glory, to talke much Then your pennance, to heare her: whilst she speakes, She throwes upon a man, so sweet a looke, That it were able raise one to a Galliard That lay in a dead palsey; and to doate On that sweete countenance: but in that looke, There speaketh so divine a continence, As cuts off all lascivious, and vaine hope. Her dayes are practis'd in such noble vertue, That, sure her nights (nay more her very Sleepes) Are more in Heaven, then other Ladies Shrifts. Let all sweet Ladies, breake their flattring Glasses, And dresse themselues in her.

Del. Fye Antonia, You play the wire-drawer with her commendations.

Ant. I'll case the picture up: onely thus much, All her particular worth, growes to this somme: She staines the time past: lights the time to come.

Cariola. You must attend my Lady, in the gallery, Some halfe an houre 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 Gallies.

Duch. Yes, I know him:

Ferd. A worthy fellow h'is: pray let me entreat for The provisorship of your horse.

Duch. Your knowledge of him, Commends him, and prefers him.

Ferd. Call him heither, Wee 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 Millaine?

Sil. I am:

Duch. Bring the Carroches: we'll bring you down to the Haven.

Car. Be sure you entertaine that Bosola For your Intelligence: I would not be seeene 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 houshold Had beene farre fitter:

Card. You are deceiv'd in him, His Nature is too honest for such businesse, He comes: I'll leave you:

Bos. I was lur'd to you.

Ferd. My brother here (the Cardinall) 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 Phisiognomie? There's no more credit, to be given to th'face, Then to a sicke mans uryn, which some call The Physitians 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 seldome be deceiv'd; You see, the oft shaking of the Cedar-Tree Fastens it more at roote.

Bos. Yet take heed: For to suspect a friend unworthely, Instructs him the next way to suspect you, And prompts him to deceive you.

Berd. There's gold.

Bos. So: What followes? (Never raind such showres as these Without thunderbolts i'th taile 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 Duchesse, To note all the particulars of her haviour: What suitors doe sollicite her for marriage And whom she best affects: she's a yong widowe, I would not have her marry againe.

Bos. No, Sir?

Ferd. Doe not you aske the reason: but be satisfied, I say I would not.

Bos. It seemes you would create me One of your familiars.

Ferd. Familiar? what's that?

Bos. Why, a very quaint invisible Divell, in flesh: An Intelligencer.

Ferd. Such a kind of thriving thing I would wish thee: and ere long, thou maist arrive At a higher place by't.

Bos. Take your Divels Which Hell calls Angels: these curs'd gifts would make You a corrupter, me an impudent traitor, And should I take these they 'll'd take me Hell.

Fer. Sir, I'll take nothing from you, that I have given: There is a place, that I procur'd for you This morning: (the Provisor-ship o'th' horse) Have you heard out?

Bos. Noe.

Fer. 'Tis yours, is't not worth thankes?

Bos. I would have you curse your selfe now, that your bounty (Which makes men truly noble) ere should make Me a villaine: oh, that to avoid ingratitude For the good deed you have done me, I must doe All the ill man can invent: Thus the Divell Candies all sinnes are: and what Heaven termes vild, That names he complementall.

Fer. Be your selfe: Keepe your old garbe of melencholly: 'twill expresse You envy those that stand above your reach, Yet strive not to come neere'em: This will gaine

Accesse, to private lodgings, where your selfe May (like a pollitique dormouse,

Bos. As I have seene some, Feed in a Lords dish, halfe a sleepe, not seeming To listen to any talke: and yet these Rogues Have cut his throat in a dreame: whats my place? The Provisors-ship o'th horse? say then my corruption Grew out of horse-doong: 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 Divell doth preach.

Exit Bosola.

Card. We are to part from you: and your owne discretion Must now be your director.

Ferd. You are a Widowe: You know already what man is: and therefore Let not youth: high promotion, eloquence,

Card. No, nor any thing without the addition, Honor, Sway your high blood.

Ferd. Marry? they are most luxurious, Will wed twice.

Card. O fie:

Ferd. Their livers are more spotted Then Labans sheepe.

Duch. Diamonds are of most value They say; that have past through most Jewellers hands.

Ferd. Whores, by that rule, are precious:

Duch. Will you heare me? I'll never marry:

Card. So most Widowes say: But commonly that motion lasts no longer Then the turning of an houreglasse, the funeral Sermon, And it, end both together.

Ferd. Now heare me: You live in a ranke pasture here, i'th Court, There is a kind of honney-dew, that's deadly: 'Twill poyson your fame; looke too't: be not cunning:

For they whose faces doe bolye their hearts, Are Witches, ere they arrive at twenty yeeres, I: and give the divell sucke.

Duch. This is terrible good councell:

Ferd. Hypocrisie is woven of a fine small thred, (Subtler, then Vulcans Engine: yet (beleev't) Your darkest actions: nay, your privat'st thoughts, Will come to light.

Card. You may slatter your selfe, And take your owne choice: privately be married Under the Eves of night.

Ferd. Think't the best voyage That ere you made; like the irregular Crab, Which though't goes backward, thinkes that it goes, right, Because it goes its owne way: but observe; Such weddings, may more properly be said To be executed, then celibrated.

Card. The marriage night Is the entrance into some prison.

Ferd. And those joyes, Those lustfull pleasures, are like heavy sleepes Which doe fore-run mans mischiefe

Card. Fare you well. Wisdome begins at the end: remember it.

Duch. I thinke this speech betweene you both was studied, It came so roundly off.

Ferd. You are my sister, This was my Fathers poyniard: doe you see, I'll'd be loth to see't looke rusty, 'cause 'twas his: I would have you to give ore these chargeable Revels; A Vizor, and a Masque are whispering roomes That were nev'r built for goodnesse: fare ye well: And woemen, like that part, which (like the Lamprey) Hath nev'r a bone in't.

Duch. Fye Sir:

Ferd. Nay, I meane the Tongue: varietie of Courtship;

What cannot a neate knave with a smooth tale, Make a woman beleeve? farewell, lusty Widowe.

Duch. Shall this move me? if all my royall kindred Lay in my way, unto this marriage: I'll'd make them my low foote-steps: And even now, Even in this hate (as men in some great battailes By apprehending danger, have atchiev'd Almost impossible actions: I have heard Souldiers say so, So I, through frights, and threatnings, will assay This dangerous venture: Let old wives report I wincked, and chose a husband: Cariola, To thy knowne secricy, I have given up More then my life, my fame:

Carolia. Both shall be safe: For I'll conceale this secret from the world As warily as those that trade in poyson, Keepe poyson from their children.

Duch. Thy protestation Is ingenious, and hearty: I beleeve it. Is Antonio come?

Cariola. He attends you:

Duch. Good deare soule, Leave me: but place thy selfe behind the Arras, Where thou maist over-heare us: wish me good speed For I am going into a wildernesse, Where I shall find nor path, nor friendly clewe To be my guide, I sent for you, Sit downe: Take Pen and Incke, and write: are you ready?

Ant. Yes:

Duch. What did I say?

Ant. That I should write some-what.

Duch. Oh, I remember: After this triumphs, and this large expence It's fit (like thrifty husbands) we enquire What's laid up for to morrow:

Ant. So please your beauteous Excellence.

Duch. Beauteous? Indeed I thank you: I look yong for your sake.

You have tane my cares upon you.

Ant. I'le fetch your Grace the Particulars of your revinew, and expence.

Duch. Oh, you are an upright treasurer: but you mistooke, For when I said I meant to make enquiry, What's layd up for to morrow: I did meane What's layd 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 deepe groanes, and terrible ghastly lookes, As if the guifts we parted with, procur'd That violent distruction?

Ant. Oh, much better.

Duch. If I had a husband now, this care were quit: But I intend to make yon Over-seer; What good deede, shall we first remember? say.

Ant. Begin with that first good deed, began i'th'world, After mans creation, the Sacrament of marriage, I'ld have you first provide for a good husband, Give him all.

Duch. All?

Ant. Yes, your excellent selfe.

Duch. In a winding sheete?

Ant. In a cople.

Duch. St. Winfrid, that were a strange will.

Ant. 'Twere strange if there were no will in you To marry againe.

Duch. What doe you thinke of marriage?

Ant. I take't, as those that deny Purgatory, It locally containes, or heaven, or hell, There's no third place in't.

Duch. How doe you affect it?

Ant. My banishment, feeding my mellancholly, Would often reason thus.

Duch. Pray let's heare it.

Ant. Say a man never marry, nor have children, What takes that from him? onely the bare name Of being a father, or the weake delight To see the little wanton, ride a cocke-horse Upon a painted sticke, or heare him chatter Like a taught Starling.

Duch. Fye, fie, what's all this? One of your eyes is blood-shot, use my Ring to't, They say 'tis very soveraigne, '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 helpe your eye-sight.

Ant. You have made me starke blind.

Duch. How?

Ant. There is a sawcy, and ambitious divell Is dauncing in this circle.

Duch. Remoove him.

Ant. How?

Duch. There needs small conjuration, when your finger May doe it: thus, is it fit?

Ant. What sayd you?

he kneeles

Duch. Sir, This goodly roose of yours, it too low built, I cannot stand upright in't, nor discourse, Without I raise it higher: raise your selfe, Or if you please, my hand to helpe you: so.

Ant. Ambition (Madam) is a great mans madnes, That is not kept in chaines, and close-pent-roomes, But in faire lightsome lodgings, and is girt With the wild noyce of pratling visitans, Which makes it lunatique, beyond all cure, Conceive not, I am so stupid, but I ayme Whereto your favours tend: But he's a foole That (being a cold) would thrust his hands i'th'fire To warme them.

Duch. So, now the ground's broake, You may discover what a wealthy Mine, I make you Lord off.

Ant. Oh my unworthinesse.

Duch. You were ill to sell your selfe, This darkning of your worth, is not like that Which trades-men use i'th'City, their false lightes Are to rid bad wares off: and I must tell you If you will know where breathes a compleat man, (I speake it without flattery) turne your eyes, And progresse through your selfe.

Ant. Were there nor heaven, nor hell, I should be honest: I have long serv'd vertue, And nev'r tane wages of her.

Duch. Now she paies it, The misery of us, that are borne great, We are forc'd to woe, because none dare woe us: And as a Tyrant doubles with his words, And fearefully equivocates: so we Are forc'd to expresse our violent passions In ridles, and in dreames, and leave the path Of simple vertue, which was never made To seeme the thing it is not: Goe, go brag You have left me heartlesse, mine is in your bosome, I hope 'twill multiply love there: You doe tremble: Make not your heart so dead a peece of flesh To feare, more then to love me: Sir, be confident, What is't distracts you? This is flesh, and blood, (Sir,) 'Tis not the figure cut in Allablaster Kneeles at my husbands tombe: Awake, awake (man) I do here put of all vaine ceremony, And onely doe appeare to you, a yong widow That claimes you for her husband, and like a widow, I use but halfe a blush in't.

Ant. Truth speake for me, I will remaine the constant Sanctuary Of your good name.

Duch. I thanke you (gentle love) And 'cause you shall not come to me, in debt, (Being now my Steward) here upon your lippes I signe your Quietus est: This you should have beg'd now, I have seene children oft eate sweete-meates thus, As fearefull to devoure them too soone.

Ant. But for your Brothers?

Duch. Do not thinke of them, All discord, without this circumference, Is onely to be pittied, and not fear'd: 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 savour'd flattery.

Duch. Kneele.

Ant. Hah?

Duch. Be not amaz'd, this woman's of my Councell, I have heard Lawyers say, a contract in a Chamber, (Per verba presenti) is absolute marriage: Blesse (Heaven) this sacred Gordian, which, let violence Never untwine.

Ant. And may our sweet affections, (like the Sphears) Be still in motion.

Duch. Quickning, and make The like soft Musique.

Ant. That we may imitate the loving Palmes (Best Embleme of a peacefull marriage) That nev'r bore fruite devided.

Duch. What can the Church force more?

Ant. That Fortune may not know an accident Either of joy, or sorrow, to devide Our fixed wishes.

Duch. How can the Church build faster? We now are man, and wife, and 'tis the Church That must but eccho this: Maid, stand a part, I now am blinde.

Ant. What's your conceit in this?

Duch. I would have you leade your Fortune by the hand. Unto your marriage bed: (You speake in me this, for we now are one) We'll onely lie, and talke together, and plot T'appease my humorous kindred; and if you please (Like the old tale, in Alexander and Lodewicke) Lay a naked sword betweene us, keepe us chast: Oh, let me shrowd my blushes in your bosome, Since 'tis the treasury of all my secrets.

Car. Whether the spirit of greatnes, or of woman Raigne most in her, I know not, but it shewes A fearefull madnes, I owe her much of pitty.

Exeunt.

Act II, scene i

ACTUS II. SCENA I.

Bosola, Castruchio, an Old Lady, Antonio, Delio, Duchesse, Rodorico, Grisolan.

Bos. You say, you would faine be taken, for an eminent Courtier?