Chapter CIX: Act I: Scene I.3642

[_Enter_] ANTONIO _and_ DELIO.

_Delio._ You are welcome to your country, dear Antonio;
You have been long in France, and you return
A very formal Frenchman in your habit.
How do you like the French court?

_Ant._ I admire it.
In seeking to reduce both state and people 5
To a fix’d order, their judicious king
Begins at home; quits first his royal palace
Of flatt’ring sycophants, of dissolute
And infamous persons,—which he sweetly terms
His master’s master-piece, the work of heaven;
Considering duly that a prince’s court 11
Is like a common fountain, whence should flow
Pure silver drops in general, but if ’t chance
Some curs’d example poison ’t near the head,
Death and diseases through the whole land spread. 15
And what is ’t makes this blessed government
But a most provident council, who dare freely
Inform him the corruption of the times?
Though some o’ th’ court hold it presumption
To instruct princes what they ought to do, 20
It is a noble duty to inform them
What they ought to forsee.[3643]—Here comes Bosola,
The only court-gall; yet I observe his railing
Is not for simple love of piety:
Indeed, he rails at those things which he wants; 25
Would be as lecherous, covetous, or proud,
Bloody, or envious, as any man,
If he had means to be so.—Here’s the cardinal.

[_Enter_ CARDINAL _and_ BOSOLA.]

_Bos._ I do haunt you still.

_Card._ So. 30

_Bos._ I have done you better service than to be slighted thus.
Miserable age, where only the reward of doing well is the doing of it!

_Card._ You enforce your merit too much.

_Bos._ I fell into the galleys in your service; (35) where, for two
years together, I wore two towels instead of a shirt, with a knot on
the shoulder, after the fashion of a Roman mantle. Slighted thus! I
will thrive some way. Blackbirds fatten best in hard weather; why not
(40) I in these dog-days?

_Card._ Would you could become honest!

_Bos._ With all your divinity do but direct me the way to it. I have
known many travel far for it, and yet return as arrant knaves as 45
they went forth, because they carried themselves always along with
them. [_Exit_ CARDINAL.] Are you gone? Some fellows, they say, are
possessed with the devil, but this great fellow were able to possess
the greatest devil, and make him (50) worse.

_Ant._ He hath denied thee some suit?

_Bos._ He and his brother are like plum-trees that grow crooked over
standing-pools; they are rich and o’erladen with fruit, but none
but crows, pies, and caterpillars feed on them. (56) Could I be
one of their flatt’ring panders, I would hang on their ears like a
horseleech, till I were full, and then drop off. I pray, leave me.
Who would rely upon these miserable dependencies, in expectation
to be advanc’d to-morrow? (61) What creature ever fed worse than
hoping Tantalus? Nor ever died any man more fearfully than he that
hop’d for a pardon. There are rewards for hawks and dogs when 65
they have done us service; but for a soldier that hazards his limbs
in a battle, nothing but a kind of geometry is his last supportation.

_Delio._ Geometry?

_Bos._ Ay, to hang in a fair pair of slings, take his latter swing in
the world upon an honourable (71) pair of crutches, from hospital to
hospital. Fare ye well, sir: and yet do not you scorn us; for places
in the court are but like beds in the hospital, where this man’s head
lies at that man’s foot, and so lower and lower. [_Exit._] 76

_Del._ I knew this fellow seven years in the galleys
For a notorious murder; and ’t was thought
The cardinal suborn’d it: he was releas’d
By the French general, Gaston de Foix, 80
When he recover’d Naples.

_Ant._ ’T is great pity
He should be thus neglected: I have heard
He ’s very valiant. This foul melancholy
Will poison all his goodness; for, I’ll tell you,
If too immoderate sleep be truly said 85
To be an inward rust unto the soul,
It then doth follow want of action
Breeds all black malcontents; and their close rearing,
Like moths in cloth, do hurt for want of wearing.

SCENE II.[3644]

ANTONIO, DELIO. [_Enter_] SILVIO, CASTRUCCIO, JULIA, RODERIGO, _and_ GRISOLAN.

_Delio._ 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 cardinal’s
And other strangers’ that are now in court?
I shall.—Here comes the great Calabrian duke.

[_Enter_ FERDINAND _and_ Attendants.]

_Ferd._ Who took the ring oft’nest?[3645] 6

_Sil._ Antonio Bologna, my lord.

_Ferd._ Our sister duchess’ great master of her household? Give him
the jewel.—When shall we leave this sportive action, and fall to
action indeed? 11

_Cast._ Methinks, my lord, you should not desire to go to war in
person.

_Ferd._ Now for some gravity.—Why, my lord? 15

_Cast._ It is fitting a soldier arise to be a prince, but not
necessary a prince descend to be a captain.

_Ferd._ No?

_Cast._ No, my lord; he were far better do it by a deputy. 21

_Ferd._ Why should he not as well sleep or eat by a deputy? This
might take idle, offensive, and base office from him, whereas the
other deprives him of honour. 25

_Cast._ Believe my experience, that realm is never long in quiet
where the ruler is a soldier.

_Ferd._ Thou told’st me thy wife could not endure fighting.

_Cast._ True, my lord. 30

_Ferd._ And of a jest she broke of[3646] a captain she met full of
wounds: I have forgot it.

_Cast._ She told him, my lord, he was a pitiful fellow, to lie, like
the children of Ismael, all in tents.[3647] 35

_Ferd._ Why, there ’s a wit were able to undo all the
chirurgeons[3648] o’ the city; for although gallants should quarrel,
and had drawn their weapons, and were ready to go to it, yet her
persuasions would make them put up. 40

_Cast._ That she would, my lord.—How do you like my Spanish
gennet?[3649]

_Rod._ He is all fire.

_Ferd._ I am of Pliny’s opinion, I think he was begot by the wind; he
runs as if he were ballas’d[3650] with quicksilver. 46

_Sil._ True, my lord, he reels from the tilt often.

_Rod. Gris._ Ha, ha, ha!

_Ferd._ Why do you laugh? Methinks you that are courtiers should be
my touch-wood, (51) take fire when I give fire; that is, laugh when I
laugh, were the subject never so witty.

_Cast._ True, my lord: I myself have heard a very good jest, and have
scorn’d to seem to have so silly a wit as to understand it. 56

_Ferd._ But I can laugh at your fool, my lord.

_Cast._ He cannot speak, you know, but he makes faces; my lady cannot
abide him.

_Ferd._ No? 60

_Cast._ Nor endure to be in merry company; for she says too full
laughing, and too much company, fills her too much of the wrinkle.

_Ferd._ I would, then, have a mathematical instrument made for her
face, that she might not laugh out of compass.—I shall shortly visit
(66) you at Milan, Lord Silvio.

_Sil._ Your grace shall arrive most welcome.

_Ferd._ You are a good horseman, Antonio: you have excellent riders
in France; what do you think of good horsemanship? 71

_Ant._ Nobly, my lord: as out of the Grecian horse issued many famous
princes, so out of brave horsemanship arise the first sparks of
growing resolution, that raise the mind to noble action. 76

_Ferd._ You have bespoke it worthily.

_Sil._ Your brother, the lord cardinal, and sister duchess.

[_Enter_ CARDINAL, _with_ DUCHESS, _and_ CARIOLA.]

_Card._ Are the galleys come about?

_Gris._ They are, my lord. 80

_Ferd._ Here ’s the Lord Silvio is come to take his leave.

_Delio._ Now, sir, your promise: what ’s that cardinal?
I mean his temper. They say he ’s a brave fellow,
Will play his five thousand crowns at tennis, dance,
Court ladies, and one that hath fought single combats. 85

_Ant._ Some such flashes superficially hang on him for form; but
observe his inward character: he is a melancholy churchman. The
spring in his face is nothing but the engend’ring of toads; where
he is jealous of any man, he lays worse plots for them than ever
was impos’d (91) on Hercules, for he strews in his way flatterers,
panders, intelligencers, atheists, and a thousand such political
monsters. He should have been Pope; but instead of coming to it by
the primitive decency of the church, he did (96) bestow bribes so
largely and so impudently as if he would have carried it away without
heaven’s knowledge. Some good he hath done——

_Delio._ You have given too much of him. What ’s his brother? 100

_Ant._ The duke there? A most perverse and turbulent nature.
What appears in him mirth is merely outside;
If he laught heartily, it is to laugh
All honesty out of fashion.

_Delio._ Twins?

_Ant._ In quality.
He speaks with others’ tongues, and hears men’s suits 105
With others’ ears; will seem to sleep o’ th’ bench
Only to entrap offenders in their answers;
Dooms men to death by information;
Rewards by hearsay.

_Delio._ Then the law to him
Is like a foul, black cobweb to a spider,— 110
He makes it his dwelling and a prison
To entangle those shall feed him.

_Ant._ Most true:
He never pays debts unless they be shrewd turns,
And those he will confess that he doth owe.
Last, for his brother there, the cardinal, 115
They that do flatter him most say oracles
Hang at his lips; and verily I believe them,
For the devil speaks in them.
But for their sister, the right noble duchess,
You never fix’d your eye on three fair medals
Cast in one figure, of so different temper. 121
For her discourse, it is so full of rapture,
You only will begin then to be sorry
When she doth end her speech, and wish, in wonder,
She held it less vain-glory to talk much, 125
Than your penance to hear her. Whilst she speaks,
She throws upon a man so sweet a look
That it were able to raise one to a galliard[3651]
That lay in a dead palsy, and to dote
On that sweet countenance; but in that look 130
There speaketh so divine a continence
As cuts off all lascivious and vain hope.
Her days are practis’d in such noble virtue,
That sure her nights, nay, more, her very sleeps,
Are more in heaven than other ladies’ shrifts.
Let all sweet ladies break their flatt’ring glasses, 136
And dress themselves in her.

_Delio._ Fie, Antonio.
You play the wire-drawer with her commendations.

_Ant._ I ’ll case the picture up: only thus much;
All her particular worth grows to this sum,—
She stains[3652] the time past, lights the time to come. 141

_Cari._ You must attend my lady in the gallery,
Some half an hour hence.

_Ant._ I shall. [_Exeunt_ ANTONIO _and_ DELIO.]

_Ferd._ Sister, I have a suit to you.

_Duch._ To me, sir?

_Ferd._ A gentlemen here, Daniel de Bosola,
One that was in the galleys——

_Duch._ Yes, I know him. 146

_Ferd._ A worthy fellow he ’s: pray, let me entreat for
The provisorship of your horse.

_Duch._ Your knowledge of him
Commends him and prefers him.

_Ferd._ Call him hither. [_Exit_ Attendants.]
We [are] now upon[3653] parting. Good Lord Silvio,
Do us commend to all our noble friends 151
At the leaguer.

_Sil._ Sir, I shall.

[_Duch._] You are for Milan?

_Sil._ I am.

_Duch._ Bring the caroches.[3654]—We ’ll bring you down
To the haven.
[_Exeunt_ DUCHESS, SILVIO, CASTRUCCIO, RODERIGO, GRISOLAN, CARIOLA,
JULIA, _and_ Attendants.]

_Card._ Be sure you entertain that Bosola 154
For your intelligence.[3655] I would not be seen 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 household,
Had been far fitter.

_Card._ You are deceiv’d in him. 159
His nature is too honest for such business.—
He comes: I ’ll leave you. [_Exit._]

[_Re-enter_ BOSOLA.]

_Bos._ I was lur’d to you.

_Ferd._ My brother, here, the cardinal 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 physiognomy? 165
There ’s no more credit to be given to th’ face
Than to a sick man’s urine, which some call
The physician’s whore, because she cozens[3656] him.
He did suspect me wrongfully.

_Ferd._ For that
You must give great men leave to take their times. 170
Distrust doth cause us seldom be deceiv’d.
You see the oft shaking of the cedar-tree
Fastens it more at root.

_Bos._ Yet take heed;
For to suspect a friend unworthily
Instructs him the next way to suspect you, 175
And prompts him to deceive you.

_Ferd._ There ’s gold.

_Bos._ So:
What follows?—[_Aside._] Never rain’d such showers as these
Without thunderbolts i’ th’ tail 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 duchess; 181
To note all the particulars of her behaviour,
What suitors do solicit her for marriage,
And whom she best affects.[3657] She ’s a young widow:
I would not have her marry again.

_Bos._ No, sir? 185

_Ferd._ Do not you ask the reason; but be satisfied.
I say I would not.

_Bos._ It seems you would create me
One of your familiars.

_Ferd._ Familiar! What ’s that?

_Bos._ Why, a very quaint invisible devil in flesh,—
An intelligencer.[3658]

_Ferd._ Such a kind of thriving thing 190
I would wish thee; and ere long thou mayst arrive
At a higher place by ’t.

_Bos._ Take your devils,
Which hell calls angels! These curs’d gifts would make
You a corrupter, me an impudent traitor;
And should I take these, they ’d take me [to] hell. 195

_Ferd._ Sir, I ’ll take nothing from you that I have given.
There is a place that I procur’d for you
This morning, the provisorship o’ th’ horse;
Have you heard on ’t?

_Bos._ No.

_Ferd._ ’T is yours: is ’t not worth thanks?

_Bos._ I would have you curse yourself now, that your bounty 200
(Which makes men truly noble) e’er should make me
A villain. O, that to avoid ingratitude
For the good deed you have done me, I must do
All the ill man can invent! Thus the devil
Candies all sins o’er: and what heaven terms vile, 205
That names he complimental.

_Ferd._ Be yourself;
Keep your old garb of melancholy; ’t will express
You envy those that stand above your reach,
Yet strive not to come near ’em. This will gain
Access to private lodgings, where yourself 210
May, like a politic dormouse——

_Bos._ As I have seen some
Feed in a lord’s dish, half asleep, not seeming
To listen to any talk; and yet these rogues
Have cut his throat in a dream. What ’s my place?
The provisorship o’ th’ horse? Say, then, my corruption 215
Grew out of horse-dung: I am your creature.

_Ferd._ Away! [_Exit._]

_Bos._ Let good men, for good deeds, covet good fame,
Since place and riches oft are bribes of shame.
Sometimes the devil doth preach. _Exit._

[SCENE III.][3659]

[_Enter_ FERDINAND, DUCHESS, CARDINAL, _and_ CARIOLA.]

_Card._ We are to part from you; and your own discretion
Must now be your director.

_Ferd._ You are a widow:
You know already what man is; and therefore
Let not youth, high promotion, eloquence——

_Card._ No, 5
Nor anything without the addition, honour,
Sway your high blood.

_Ferd._ Marry! They are most luxurious[3660]
Will wed twice.

_Card._ O, fie!

_Ferd._ Their livers are more spotted
Than Laban’s sheep.[3661]

_Duch._ Diamonds are of most value,
They say, that have past through most jewellers’ hands. 10

_Ferd._ Whores by that rule are precious.

_Duch._ Will you hear me?
I ’ll never marry.

_Card._ So most widows say;
But commonly that motion[3662] lasts no longer
Than the turning of an hour-glass: the funeral sermon
And it end both together.

_Ferd._ Now hear me: 15
You live in a rank pasture, here, i’ th’ court;
There is a kind of honey-dew that ’s deadly;
’T will poison your fame; look to ’t. Be not cunning;
For they whose faces do belie their hearts
Are witches ere they arrive at twenty years, 20
Ay, and give the devil suck.

_Duch._ This is terrible good counsel.

_Ferd._ Hypocrisy is woven of a fine small thread,
Subtler than Vulcan’s engine:[3663] yet, believe ’t,
Your darkest actions, nay, your privat’st thoughts, 25
Will come to light.

_Card._ You may flatter yourself,
And take your own choice; privately be married
Under the eaves of night——

_Ferd._ Think ’t the best voyage
That e’er you made; like the irregular crab,
Which, though ’t goes backward, thinks that it goes right 30
Because it goes its own way: but observe,
Such weddings may more properly be said
To be executed than celebrated.

_Card._ The marriage night
Is the entrance into some prison.

_Ferd._ And those joys,
Those lustful pleasures, are like heavy sleeps 35
Which do fore-run man’s mischief.

_Card._ Fare you well.
Wisdom begins at the end: remember it. [_Exit._]

_Duch._ I think this speech between you both was studied,
It came so roundly off.

_Ferd._ You are my sister:
This was my father’s poniard, do you see? 40
I’d be loth to see ’t look rusty, ’cause ’t was his.
I would have you give o’er these chargeable revels:
A visor and a mask are whispering-rooms
That were nev’r built for goodness,—fare ye well—
And women like that part which, like the lamprey, 45
Hath nev’r a bone in ’t.

_Duch._ Fie, sir!

_Ferd._ Nay,
I mean the tongue; variety of courtship.
What cannot a neat knave with a smooth tale
Make a woman believe? Farewell, lusty widow. [_Exit._]

_Duch._ Shall this move me? If all my royal kindred 50
Lay in my way unto this marriage,
I ’d make them my low footsteps. And even now,
Even in this hate, as men in some great battles,
By apprehending danger, have achiev’d
Almost impossible actions (I have heard soldiers say so), 55
So I through frights and threat’nings will assay
This dangerous venture. Let old wives report
I wink’d and chose a husband.—Cariola,
To thy known secrecy I have given up
More than my life,—my fame.

_Cari._ Both shall be safe; 60
For I ’ll conceal this secret from the world
As warily as those that trade in poison
Keep poison from their children.

_Duch._ Thy protestation
Is ingenious and hearty; I believe it.
Is Antonio come?

_Cari._ He attends you.

_Duch._ Good dear soul, 65
Leave me; but place thyself behind the arras,
Where thou mayest overhear us. Wish me good speed;
For I am going into a wilderness,
Where I shall find nor path nor friendly clue
To be my guide.
[CARIOLA _goes behind the arras_.]
[_Enter_ ANTONIO.]
I sent for you: sit down; 70
Take pen and ink, and write: are you ready?

_Ant._ Yes.

_Duch._ What did I say?

_Ant._ That I should write somewhat.

_Duch._ O, I remember.
After these triumphs and this large expense
It ’s fit, like thrifty husbands,[3664] we inquire 75
What ’s laid up for to-morrow.

_Ant._ So please your beauteous excellence.

_Duch._ Beauteous!
Indeed, I thank you. I look young for your sake;
You have ta’en my cares upon you.

_Ant._ I ’ll fetch your grace
The particulars of your revenue and expense. 80

_Duch._ O, you are
An upright treasurer, but you mistook;
For when I said I meant to make inquiry
What ’s laid up for to-morrow, I did mean
What ’s laid up yonder for me.

_Ant._ Where?

_Duch._ In heaven. 85
I am making my will (as ’t is fit princes should,
In perfect memory), and, I pray, sir, tell me,
Were not one better make it smiling, thus,
Than in deep groans and terrible ghastly looks,
As if the gifts we parted with procur’d[3665] 90
That violent distraction?

_Ant._ O, much better.

_Duch._ If I had a husband now, this care were quit:
But I intend to make you overseer.
What good deed shall we first remember? Say.

_Ant._ Begin with that first good deed began i’ th’ world 95
After man’s creation, the sacrament of marriage.
I ’d have you first provide for a good husband;
Give him all.

_Duch._ All!

_Ant._ Yes, your excellent self.

_Duch._ In a winding-sheet?

_Ant._ In a couple.

_Duch._ Saint Winifred, that were a strange will! 100

_Ant._ ’T were stranger[3666] if there were no will in you
To marry again.

_Duch._ What do you think of marriage?

_Ant._ I take ’t, as those that deny purgatory,
It locally contains or heaven or hell;
There ’s no third place in ’t.

_Duch._ How do you affect it? 105

_Ant._ My banishment, feeding my melancholy,
Would often reason thus:—

_Duch._ Pray, let ’s hear it.

_Ant._ Say a man never marry, nor have children,
What takes that from him? Only the bare name
Of being a father, or the weak delight 110
To see the little wanton ride a-cock-horse
Upon a painted stick, or hear him chatter
Like a taught starling.

_Duch._ Fie, fie, what ’s all this?
One of your eyes is blood-shot: use my ring to ’t.
They say ’t is very sovereign. ’T was my wedding-ring. 115
And I did vow never to part with it
But to my second husband.

_Ant._ You have parted with it now.

_Duch._ Yes, to help your eye-sight.

_Ant._ You have made me stark blind.

_Duch._ How? 120

_Ant._ There is a saucy and ambitious devil
Is dancing in this circle.

_Duch._ Remove him.

_Ant._ How?

_Duch._ There needs small conjuration, when your finger
May do it: thus. Is it fit?
[_She puts the ring upon his finger_]: _he kneels_.

_Ant._ What said you?

_Duch._ Sir,
This goodly roof of yours is too low built; 125
I cannot stand upright in ’t nor discourse,
Without I raise it higher. Raise yourself;
Or, if you please, my hand to help you: so. [_Raises him._]

_Ant._ Ambition, madam, is a great man’s madness,
That is not kept in chains and close-pent rooms,
But in fair lightsome lodgings, and is girt 131
With the wild noise of prattling visitants,
Which makes it lunatic beyond all cure.
Conceive not I am so stupid but I aim[3667]
Whereto your favours tend: but he ’s a fool 135
That, being a-cold, would thrust his hands i’ th’ fire
To warm them.

_Duch._ So, now the ground ’s broke,
You may discover what a wealthy mine
I make you lord of.

_Ant._ O my unworthiness!

_Duch._ You were ill to sell yourself: 140
This dark’ning of your worth is not like that
Which tradesmen use i’ th’ city; their false lights
Are to rid bad wares off: and I must tell you,
If you will know where breathes a complete man
(I speak it without flattery), turn your eyes, 145
And progress through yourself.

_Ant._ Were there nor heaven nor hell,
I should be honest: I have long serv’d virtue,
And nev’r ta’en wages of her.

_Duch._ Now she pays it.
The misery of us that are born great! 150
We are forc’d to woo, because none dare woo us;
And as a tyrant doubles with his words
And fearfully equivocates, so we
Are forc’d to express our violent passions
In riddles and in dreams, and leave the path 155
Of simple virtue, which was never made
To seem the thing it is not. Go, go brag
You have left me heartless; mine is in your bosom:
I hope ’t will multiply love there. You do tremble:
Make not your heart so dead a piece of flesh, 160
To fear more than to love me. Sir, be confident:
What is ’t distracts you? This is flesh and blood, sir;
’T is not the figure cut in alabaster
Kneels at my husband’s tomb. Awake, awake, man!
I do here put off all vain ceremony, 165
And only do appear to you a young widow
That claims you for her husband, and, like a widow,
I use but half a blush in ’t.

_Ant._ Truth speak for me;
I will remain the constant sanctuary
Of your good name.

_Duch._ I thank you, gentle love: 170
And ’cause you shall not come to me in debt,
Being now my steward, here upon your lips
I sign your _Quietus est_.[3668] This you should have begg’d now.
I have seen children oft eat sweetmeats thus,
As fearful to devour them too soon. 175

_Ant._ But for your brothers?

_Duch._ Do not think of them:
All discord without this circumference
Is only to be pitied, and not fear’d:
Yet, should they know it, time will easily
Scatter the tempest.

_Ant._ These words should be mine, 180
And all the parts you have spoke, if some part of it
Would not have savour’d flattery.

_Duch._ Kneel.
[CARIOLA _comes from behind the arras_.]

_Ant._ Ha!

_Duch._ Be not amaz’d: this woman ’s of my counsel.
I have heard lawyers say, a contract in a chamber
_Per verba_ [_de_] _presenti_[3669] is absolute marriage. 185
[_She and_ ANTONIO _kneel_.]
Bless, heaven, this sacred gordian,[3670] which let violence
Never untwine.

_Ant._ And may our sweet affections, like the spheres,
Be still in motion!

_Duch._ Quick’ning, and make
The like soft music! 190

_Ant._ That we may imitate the loving palms,
Best emblem of a peaceful marriage,
That nev’r bore fruit, divided!

_Duch._ What can the church force more?

_Ant._ That fortune may not know an accident, 195
Either of joy or sorrow, to divide
Our fixed wishes!

_Duch._ How can the church build faster?[3671]
We now are man and wife, and ’t is the church
That must but echo this.—Maid, stand apart:
I now am blind.

_Ant._ What ’s your conceit in this? 200

_Duch._ I would have you lead your fortune by the hand
Unto your marriage-bed:
(You speak in me this, for we now are one.)
We ’ll only lie and talk together, and plot
T’ appease my humorous[3672] kindred; and if you please, 205
Like the old tale in _Alexander and Lodowick_,
Lay a naked sword between us, keep us chaste.
O, let me shrowd my blushes in your bosom,
Since ’t is the treasury of all my secrets!
[_Exeunt_ DUCHESS _and_ ANTONIO.]

_Cari._ Whether the spirit of greatness or of woman 210
Reign most in her, I know not; but it shows
A fearful madness. I owe her much of pity. _Exit._