The Duchess of Malfi

Scene V⁶⁶

[Enter] CARDINAL and FERDINAND with a letter

 
  FERDINAND.  I have this night digg'd up a mandrake.⁶⁷
  CARDINAL.                                            Say you?
  FERDINAND.  And I am grown mad with 't.
  CARDINAL.                                What 's the prodigy[?]
  FERDINAND.
  Read there, – a sister damn'd:  she 's loose i' the hilts;⁶⁸
Grown a notorious strumpet.
  CARDINAL.                    Speak lower.
  FERDINAND.                                 Lower!
  Rogues 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.  O, 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.
  CARDINAL.                            Is 't possible?
  Can this be certain?
  FERDINAND.            Rhubarb, O, for rhubarb
  To purge this choler!  Here 's the cursed day
  To prompt my memory; and here 't shall stick
  Till of her bleeding heart I make a sponge
  To wipe it out.
  CARDINAL.        Why do you make yourself
  So wild a tempest?
  FERDINAND.          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.
  CARDINAL.                      Shall our blood,
  The royal blood of Arragon and Castile,
  Be thus attainted?
  FERDINAND.          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.
  CARDINAL.                            What to do?
  FERDINAND.  Why, to make soft lint for his mother's wounds,
  When I have hew'd her to pieces.
  CARDINAL.                         Curs'd creature!
  Unequal nature, to place women's hearts
  So far upon the left side!⁶⁹
  FERDINAND.                  Foolish men,
  That e'er will trust their honour in a bark
  Made of so slight weak bulrush as is woman,
  Apt every minute to sink it!
  CARDINAL.  Thus ignorance, when it hath purchas'd honour,
  It cannot wield it.
  FERDINAND.           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.
  CARDINAL.  With whom?
  FERDINAND.             Happily with some strong-thigh'd bargeman,
  Or one o' th' wood-yard that can quoit the sledge⁷⁰
Or toss the bar, or else some lovely squire
  That carries coals up to her privy lodgings.
  CARDINAL.  You fly beyond your reason.
  FERDINAND.                              Go to, mistress!
  'Tis not your whore's milk that shall quench my wild-fire,
  But your whore's blood.
  CARDINAL.  How idly shows this rage, which carries you,
  As men convey'd 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.
  FERDINAND.                   Have not you
  My palsy?
  CARDINAL.    Yes, [but] I can be angry
  Without this rupture.  There is not in nature
  A thing that makes man so deform'd, so beastly,
  As doth intemperate anger.  Chide yourself.
  You have divers men who never yet express'd
  Their strong desire of rest but by unrest,
  By vexing of themselves.  Come, put yourself
  In tune.
  FERDINAND.  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.
  CARDINAL.  Are you stark mad?
  FERDINAND.                     I would have their bodies
  Burnt in a coal-pit with the ventage stopp'd,
  That their curs'd 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-boil⁷¹ their bastard to a cullis,
  And give 't his lecherous father to renew
  The sin of his back.
  CARDINAL.             I 'll leave you.
  FERDINAND.                              Nay, I have done.
  I am confident, had I been damn'd 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 [loves] my sister, I 'll not stir:
  That known, I 'll find scorpions to string my whips,
  And fix her in a general eclipse.
 

Exeunt.

Act III

Scene I⁷²

[Enter] ANTONIO and DELIO

 
  ANTONIO.  Our noble friend, my most beloved Delio!
  O, you have been a stranger long at court:
  Came you along with the Lord Ferdinand?
  DELIO.  I did, sir:  and how fares your noble duchess?
  ANTONIO.  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.
  DELIO.  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.
  ANTONIO.  You have not been in law, friend Delio,
  Nor in prison, nor a suitor at the court,
  Nor begg'd the reversion of some great man's place,
  Nor troubled with an old wife, which doth make
  Your time so insensibly hasten.
  DELIO.                           Pray, sir, tell me,
  Hath not this news arriv'd yet to the ear
  Of the lord cardinal?
  ANTONIO.               I fear it hath:
  The Lord Ferdinand, that 's newly come to court,
  Doth bear himself right dangerously.
  DELIO.                                Pray, why?
  ANTONIO.  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.
  DELIO.                 What say the common people?
  ANTONIO.  The common rabble do directly say
  She is a strumpet.
  DELIO.              And your graver heads
  Which would be politic, what censure they?
  ANTONIO.  They do observe I grow to infinite purchase,⁷³
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.
  DELIO.                The Lord Ferdinand
  Is going to bed.
 

[Enter DUCHESS, FERDINAND, and Attendants]

 

 
  FERDINAND.        I 'll instantly to bed,
  For I am weary. – I am to bespeak
  A husband for you.
  DUCHESS.            For me, sir!  Pray, who is 't?
  FERDINAND.  The great Count Malatesti.
  DUCHESS.                                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.
  FERDINAND.  You shall do well in 't. – How is 't, worthy Antonio?
  DUCHESS.  But, sir, I am to have private conference with you
  About a scandalous report is spread
  Touching mine honour.
  FERDINAND.             Let me be ever deaf to 't:
  One of Pasquil's paper-bullets,⁷⁴ court-calumny,
  A pestilent air, which princes' palaces
  Are seldom purg'd of.  Yet, say that it were true,
  I pour it in your bosom, my fix'd love
  Would strongly excuse, extenuate, nay, deny
  Faults, were they apparent in you.  Go, be safe
  In your own innocency.
  DUCHESS.  [Aside.]      O bless'd comfort!
  This deadly air is purg'd.
 

Exeunt [DUCHESS, ANTONIO, DELIO, and Attendants.]

 
  FERDINAND.                  Her guilt treads on
  Hot-burning coulters.⁷⁵       Enter BOSOLA
                         Now, Bosola,
  How thrives our intelligence?⁷⁶
  BOSOLA.                        Sir, uncertainly:
  'Tis rumour'd she hath had three bastards, but
  By whom we may go read i' the stars.
  FERDINAND.                            Why, some
  Hold opinion all things are written there.
  BOSOLA.  Yes, if we could find spectacles to read them.
  I do suspect there hath been some sorcery
  Us'd on the duchess.
  FERDINAND.            Sorcery! to what purpose?
  BOSOLA.  To make her dote on some desertless fellow
  She shames to acknowledge.
  FERDINAND.                  Can your faith give way
  To think there 's power in potions or in charms,
  To make us love whether we will or no?
  BOSOLA.  Most certainly.
  FERDINAND.  Away! these are mere gulleries,⁷⁷ 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 lenitive⁷⁸ poisons, such as are of force
  To make the patient mad; and straight the witch
  Swears by equivocation they are in love.
  The witch-craft lies in her rank blood.  This night
  I will force confession from her.  You told me
  You had got, within these two days, a false key
  Into her bed-chamber.
  BOSOLA.                I have.
  FERDINAND.                      As I would wish.
  BOSOLA.  What do you intend to do?
  FERDINAND.                          Can you guess?
  BOSOLA.                                             No.
  FERDINAND.  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 quick-sands.
  BOSOLA.                           I do not
  Think so.
  FERDINAND.  What do you think, then, pray?
  BOSOLA.                                     That you
  Are your own chronicle too much, and grossly
  Flatter yourself.
  FERDINAND.         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.

Scene II⁷⁹

[Enter] DUCHESS, ANTONIO, and CARIOLA

 
  DUCHESS.  Bring me the casket hither, and the glass. —
  You get no lodging here to-night, my lord.
  ANTONIO.  Indeed, I must persuade one.
  DUCHESS.                                Very good:
  I hope in time 'twill grow into a custom,
  That noblemen shall come with cap and knee
  To purchase a night's lodging of their wives.
  ANTONIO.  I must lie here.
  DUCHESS.                    Must!  You are a lord of mis-rule.
  ANTONIO.  Indeed, my rule is only in the night.
  DUCHESS.  I 'll stop your mouth.
       [Kisses him.]
  ANTONIO.  Nay, that 's but one; Venus had two soft doves
  To draw her chariot; I must have another. —
       [She kisses him again.]
  When wilt thou marry, Cariola?
  CARIOLA.                        Never, my lord.
  ANTONIO.  O, fie upon this single life! forgo it.
  We read how Daphne, for her peevish [flight,]⁸⁰
  Became a fruitless bay-tree; Syrinx turn'd
  To the pale empty reed; Anaxarete
  Was frozen into marble:  whereas those
  Which married, or prov'd kind unto their friends,
  Were by a gracious influence transhap'd
  Into the olive, pomegranate, mulberry,
  Became flowers, precious stones, or eminent stars.
  CARIOLA.  This is a vain poetry:  but I pray you, tell me,
  If there were propos'd me, wisdom, riches, and beauty,
  In three several young men, which should I choose?
  ANTONIO.  'Tis a hard question.  This was Paris' case,
  And he was blind in 't, and there was a 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 form'd,
  It puts me in mind of a question I would ask.
  CARIOLA.  What is 't?
  ANTONIO.               I do wonder why hard-favour'd ladies,
  For the most part, keep worse-favour'd waiting-women
  To attend them, and cannot endure fair ones.
  DUCHESS.  O, that 's soon answer'd.
  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.
  ANTONIO.  Pray thee, Cariola, let 's steal forth the room,
  And let her talk to herself:  I have divers times
  Serv'd her the like, when she hath chaf'd extremely.
  I love to see her angry.  Softly, Cariola.
 

Exeunt [ANTONIO and CARIOLA.]

 
  DUCHESS.  Doth not the colour of my hair 'gin to change?
  When I wax gray, I shall have all the court
  Powder their hair with arras,⁸¹ to be like me.
  You have cause to love me; I ent'red you into my heart
 

[Enter FERDINAND unseen]

 
  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 mix'd with fear is sweetest.  I 'll assure you,
  You shall get no more children till my brothers
  Consent to be your gossips.  Have you lost your tongue?
  'Tis welcome:
  For know, whether I am doom'd to live or die,
  I can do both like a prince.
  FERDINAND.                    Die, then, quickly!
       Giving her a poniard.
  Virtue, where art thou hid?  What hideous thing
  Is it that doth eclipse thee?
  DUCHESS.                       Pray, sir, hear me.
  FERDINAND.  Or is it true thou art but a bare name,
  And no essential thing?
  DUCHESS.                 Sir —
  FERDINAND.                        Do not speak.
  DUCHESS.  No, sir:
  I will plant my soul in mine ears, to hear you.
  FERDINAND.  O most imperfect light of human reason,
  That mak'st [us] so unhappy to foresee
  What we can least prevent!  Pursue thy wishes,
  And glory in them:  there 's in shame no comfort
  But to be past all bounds and sense of shame.
  DUCHESS.  I pray, sir, hear me:  I am married.
  FERDINAND.                                      So!
  DUCHESS.  Happily, not to your liking:  but for that,
  Alas, your shears do come untimely now
  To clip the bird's wings that 's already flown!
  Will you see my husband?
  FERDINAND.                Yes, if I could change
  Eyes with a basilisk.
  DUCHESS.               Sure, you came hither
  By his confederacy.
  FERDINAND.           The howling of a wolf
  Is music to thee, screech-owl:  prithee, peace. —
  Whate'er thou art that hast enjoy'd my sister,
  For I am sure thou hear'st me, for thine own sake
  Let me not know thee.  I came hither prepar'd
  To work thy discovery; yet am now persuaded
  It would beget such violent effects
  As would damn 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, vile 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.
  DUCHESS.             Why might not I marry?
  I have not gone about in this to create
  Any new world or custom.
  FERDINAND.                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.
  DUCHESS.         Mine bleeds for 't.
  FERDINAND.                            Thine! thy heart!
  What should I name 't unless a hollow bullet
  Fill'd with unquenchable wild-fire?
  DUCHESS.                             You are in this
  Too strict; and were you not my princely brother,
  I would say, too wilful:  my reputation
  Is safe.
  FERDINAND.  Dost thou know what reputation is?
  I 'll tell thee, – to small purpose, since the 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 plagu'd with plagues:  Love gives them counsel
  To inquire for him 'mongst unambitious shepherds,
  Where dowries were not talk'd 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.
  DUCHESS.                    Why should only I,
  Of all the other princes of the world,
  Be cas'd up, like a holy relic?  I have youth
  And a little beauty.
  FERDINAND.            So you have some virgins
  That are witches.  I will never see thee more.
 

Exit.

 

Re-enter ANTONIO with a pistol, [and CARIOLA]

 
  DUCHESS.  You saw this apparition?
  ANTONIO.                            Yes:  we are
  Betray'd.  How came he hither?  I should turn
  This to thee, for that.
  CARIOLA.                 Pray, sir, do; and when
  That you have cleft my heart, you shall read there
  Mine innocence.
  DUCHESS.         That gallery gave him entrance.
  ANTONIO.  I would this terrible thing would come again,
  That, standing on my guard, I might relate
  My warrantable love. —
       (She shows the poniard.)
                          Ha! what means this?
  DUCHESS.  He left this with me.
  ANTONIO.                         And it seems did wish
  You would use it on yourself.
  DUCHESS.                       His action seem'd
  To intend so much.
  ANTONIO.            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.
       [Knocking within.]
  How now! who knocks?  More earthquakes?
  DUCHESS.                                 I stand
  As if a mine beneath my feet were ready
  To be blown up.
  CARIOLA.         'Tis Bosola.
  DUCHESS.                       Away!
  O misery! methinks unjust actions
  Should wear these masks and curtains, and not we.
  You must instantly part hence:  I have fashion'd it already.
 

Exit ANTONIO.

Enter BOSOLA

 
  BOSOLA.  The duke your brother is ta'en up in a whirlwind;
  Hath took horse, and 's rid post to Rome.
  DUCHESS.                                   So late?
  BOSOLA.  He told me, as he mounted into the saddle,
  You were undone.
  DUCHESS.          Indeed, I am very near it.
  BOSOLA.  What 's the matter?
  DUCHESS.  Antonio, the master of our household,
  Hath dealt so falsely with me in 's accounts.
  My brother stood engag'd with me for money
  Ta'en up of certain Neapolitan Jews,
  And Antonio lets the bonds be forfeit.
  BOSOLA.  Strange! – [Aside.] This is cunning.
  DUCHESS.  And hereupon
  My brother's bills at Naples are protested
  Against. – Call up our officers.
  BOSOLA.                          I shall.
 

Exit.

[Re-enter ANTONIO]

 
  DUCHESS.  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 enginous wheels:⁸² short syllables
  Must stand for periods.  I must now accuse you
  Of such a feigned crime as Tasso calls
  Magnanima menzogna, a noble lie,
  'Cause it must shield our honours. – Hark! they are coming.
 

[Re-enter BOSOLA and Officers]

 
  ANTONIO.  Will your grace hear me?
  DUCHESS.  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 sign'd your quietus;⁸³ and that cur'd 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.
  ANTONIO.  I am strongly arm'd 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 even like him, that in a winter night,
  Takes a long slumber o'er a dying fire,
  A-loth to part from 't; yet parts thence as cold
  As when he first sat down.
  DUCHESS.                    We do confiscate,
  Towards the satisfying of your accounts,
  All that you have.
  ANTONIO.            I am all yours; and 'tis very fit
  All mine should be so.
  DUCHESS.                So, sir, you have your pass.
  ANTONIO.  You may see, gentlemen, what 'tis to serve
  A prince with body and soul.
 

Exit.

 
  BOSOLA.  Here 's an example for extortion:  what moisture is drawn
  out of the sea, when foul weather comes, pours down, and runs into
  the sea again.
  DUCHESS.  I would know what are your opinions
  Of this Antonio.
  SECOND OFFICER.  He could not abide to see a pig's head gaping:
  I thought your grace would find him a Jew.
  THIRD OFFICER.  I would you had been his officer, for your own sake.
  FOURTH OFFICER.  You would have had more money.
  FIRST OFFICER.  He stopped his ears with black wool, and to those came
  to him for money said he was thick of hearing.
  SECOND OFFICER.  Some said he was an hermaphrodite, for he could not
  abide a woman.
  FOURTH OFFICER.  How scurvy proud he would look when the treasury
  was full!  Well, let him go.
  FIRST OFFICER.  Yes, and the chippings of the buttery fly after him,
  to scour his gold chain.⁸⁴
  DUCHESS.  Leave us.
 

Exeunt [Officers.]

 
  What do you think of these?
  BOSOLA.  That these are rogues that in 's prosperity,
  But to have waited on his fortune, could have wish'd
  His dirty stirrup riveted through their noses,
  And follow'd after 's mule, like a bear in a ring;
  Would have prostituted their daughters to his lust;
  Made their first-born intelligencers;⁸⁵ thought none happy
  But such as were born under his blest planet,
  And wore his livery:  and do these lice drop off now?
  Well, never look to have the like again:
  He hath left a sort⁸⁶ of flattering 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 gentleman!
  DUCHESS.  Poor! he hath amply fill'd his coffers.
  BOSOLA.  Sure, he was too honest.  Pluto,⁸⁷ 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
  On the devil's errand, he rides post and comes in by scuttles.⁸⁸
Let me show you what a most unvalu'd 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 deserv'd a far better fortune:
  His discourse rather delighted to judge itself than show itself:
  His breast was fill'd with all perfection,
  And yet it seemed a private whisp'ring-room,
  It made so little noise of 't.
  DUCHESS.  But he was basely descended.
  BOSOLA.  Will you make yourself a mercenary herald,
  Rather to examine men's pedigrees than virtues?
  You shall want⁸⁹ him:
  For know an honest statesman to a prince
  Is like a cedar planted by a spring;
  The spring bathes the tree's 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, tied
  Together with an intelligencer's heart-string,
  Than 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 happen'd unto thee, considering thy fall
  Was accompanied with virtue.
  DUCHESS.  O, you render me excellent music!
  BOSOLA.                                      Say you?
  DUCHESS.  This good one that you speak of is my husband.
  BOSOLA.  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?
  DUCHESS.  I have had three children by him.
  BOSOLA.                                      Fortunate lady!
  For you have made your private nuptial bed
  The humble and fair seminary of peace,
  No question but:  many an unbenefic'd 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,
  Rais'd 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.
  DUCHESS.  As I taste comfort in this friendly speech,
  So would I find concealment.
  BOSOLA.  O, the secret of my prince,
  Which I will wear on th' inside of my heart!
  DUCHESS.  You shall take charge of all my coin and jewels,
  And follow him; for he retires himself
  To Ancona.
  BOSOLA.     So.
  DUCHESS.         Whither, within few days,
  I mean to follow thee.
  BOSOLA.                 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.
  DUCHESS.                     Sir, your direction
  Shall lead me by the hand.
  CARIOLA.                    In my opinion,
  She were better progress to the baths at Lucca,
  Or go visit the Spa
  In Germany; for, if you will believe me,
  I do not like this jesting with religion,
  This feigned pilgrimage.
  DUCHESS.  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.
 

[Exeunt DUCHESS and CARIOLA.]

 
  BOSOLA.  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 rests⁹⁰ but I reveal
  All to my lord?  O, this base quality⁹¹  Of intelligencer!
  Why, every quality i' the world
  Prefers but gain or commendation:
  Now, for this act I am certain to be rais'd,
  And men that paint weeds to the life are prais'd.
 

[Exit.]