I will no longer study in the book Of another's heart; inform her what I told you. The Dutchess, Bosola. Bos. All comfort to your grace. Dutch. I will have none: Pray thee, why dost thou wrap thy poison'd pills Bos. Your eldest brother, the Lord Ferdinand, Dutch. At his pleasure. Take hence the lights, he's come. Dutch. Here, sir. Fer. This darkness suits you well. Fer. You have it; For I account it the honorabl'st revenge, Where I may kill, to pardon: where are your cubs ? Fer. Call them your children; For though our national law distinguish bastards Dutch. Do you visit me for this? You violate a sacrament o'th' church Fer. It had been well, Could you have liv'd thus always; for indeed I come to seal my peace with you: here's a hand To which You gave. [exeunt. [gives her a dead man's hand. you have vow'd much love; the ring upon't Dutch. I affectionately kiss it. Fer. Pray do; and bury the print of it in your heart. I will leave this ring with you, for a love token; And the hand, as sure as the ring; and do not doubt But you shall have the heart too: when you need a friend, Fer. Let her have lights enough. [exit. Dutch. What witchcraft doth he practise, that he hath left A dead man's hand here? [here is discovered the artificial figures of Antonio and his Bos. Look you, here's the piece from which it was ta'en; Dutch. There is not, between heav'n and earth, one wish Than were't my picture, fashion'd out of wax, In some foul dung-hill; and yond's an excellent property Bos. What's that? Dutch. If they would bind me to that liveless trunk, And let me freeze to death. Bos. Come, you must live. Dutch. That's the greatest torture souls feel in hell; In hell that they must live, and cannot die : And revive the rare, and almost dead example Bos. O fie, despair! remember You are a Christian. Dutch. The church enjoins fasting; I'll starve myself to death. Bos. Leave this vain sorrow; Things being at the worst, begin to mend; The bee, when he hath shot his sting into your hand, Dutch. Good comfortable fellow, Persuade a wretch that's broke upon the wheel For I do play a part in't 'gainst my will. Bos. Come, be of comfort, I will save your life. Dutch. Indeed I have not leisure to 'tend so final a business. Dutch. Thou art a fool then To waste thy pity on a thing so wretched Serv. One that wishes you long life. [enter a Servant. Dutch. I would thou wert hang'd for the horrible curse Thou hast given me; I shall shortly grow one Of the miracles of pity; I'll go pray; no, I'll go curse. Bos. O fie! Dutch. I could curse the stars. Bos. O fearful! Dutch. And those three smiling seasons of the year Into a Russian winter; nay, the world To its first chaos. Bos. Look you, the stars shine still. Dutch. Oh, but you must remember, my curse hath a great way to go. Plagues (that make lanes through largest families) Consume them. Bos. Fie, lady. Dutch. Let them, like tyrants, Never be remembered, but for the ill they have done; Let all the zealous prayers of mortified Church-men forget them. Bos. O uncharitable ! Dutch. Let Heaven a little while cease crowning martyrs, To punish them; go, howl them this; and say, I long to bleed : 'It is some mercy, when men kill with speed.' Fer. Excellent! as I would wish; she's plagu'd in art. These presentations are but fram'd in wax, By the curious master in that quality, Vincentio Lauriola, and she takes them Bos. Why do you do this? And go no farther in your cruelty; Send her a penitential garment, to put on Next to her delicate skin, and furnish her With beads and prayer-books. Fer. Damn her: that body of hers, While that my blood ran pure in't, was more worth All the mad folk, and place them near her lodging; Your work is almost ended. Enter Dutchess, Cariola, Servant, Mad-men, Bosola, Executioners, Ferdinand. Dutch. What hideous noise was that? Cari. "Tis the wild consort Of mad-men, lady, which your tyrant brother I think was never practis'd till this hour. Dutch. Indeed, I thank him; nothing but noise and folly Can keep me in my right wits, whereas reason And silence make me stark mad: sit down, Discourse to me some dismal tragedy. Cari. O't will increase your melancholy. To hear of greater grief would lessen mine. To shake this durance off. Dutch. Thou art a fool. The robin red-breast and the nightingale Never live long in cages. Cari. Pray, dry your eyes. What think you of, madam? When I muse thus, I sleep. Cari. Like a mad-man, with your eyes open. Dutch. Dost thou think we shall know one another In th' other world? Cari. Yes, out of question. Dutch. O, that it were possible we might But hold some two days' conference with the dead: From them I should learn somewhat I am sure Th' heaven o're my head seems made of molten brass, As the tann'd galley-slave is with his oar; And custom makes it easy. Who do I look like now? A deal of life in show, but none in practice; Dutch. Very proper; And fortune seems only to have her eye sight, Serv. I am come to tell you Your brother hath intended you some sport. With several sorts of mad-men, which wild object Dutch. Let them come in. [here the dance, consisting of eight mad-men, with music answerable thereunto; after which, Bosola (like an old man) enters. Dutch. Is he mad too? Serv. Pray question him: I'll leave you. Bos. I am come to make thy tomb. Dutch. Hah! my tomb? Thou speak'st, as if I lay upon my death-bed, Gasping for breath: dost thou perceive me sick? Bos. Yes, and the more dangerously, since thy sickness is insensible. Dutch. Thou art mad sure, dost know me? Bos. Yes. Dutch. Who am I? Bos. Thou art a box of worm-seed, at best, but a salvatory of green mummy: what's this flesh? a little curded milk, fantastical puff-paste: our bodies are weaker than those paper prisons boys use to keep flies in; more contemptible: since ours is to preserve earth-worms: didst thou never see a lark in a cage? such is the soul in the body: this world is like her little turf of grass, and the heaven o'er our heads, like her looking |