Chapter LXXVI: Act III: Scene I.2711

_Enter_ PIETRO, MENDOZA, EQUATO, _and_ BILIOSO.

_Pietro._ ’T is grown to youth of day: how shall we waste this light?
My heart’s more heavy than a tyrant’s crown.
Shall we go hunt? Prepare for field. _Exit_ EQUATO.

_Men._ Would ye could be merry!

_Pietro._ Would God I could! Mendoza, bid ’em haste. _Exit_ MENDOZA. 5
I would fain shift, place; O vain relief!
Sad souls may well change place, but not change grief:
As deer, being struck, fly thorough many soils,[2712]
Yet still the shaft sticks fast, so——

_Bil._ A good old simile, my honest lord. 10

_Pietro._ I am not much unlike to some sick man
That long desired hurtful drink; at last
Swills in and drinks his last, ending at once
Both life and thirst. O, would I ne’er had known
My own dishonour! Good God, that men should desire 15
To search out that, which, being found, kills all
Their joy of life! to taste the tree of knowledge,
And then be driven from out paradise!——
Canst give me some comfort?

_Bil._ My lord, I have some books which (20) have been dedicated to
my honour, and I ne’er read ’em, and yet they had very fine names,
_Physic for Fortune, Lozenges of Sanctified Sincerity_; very pretty
works of curates, scriveners, and schoolmasters. Marry, I remember
one (25) Seneca, Lucius Annaeus Seneca——

_Pietro._ Out upon him! he writ of temperance and fortitude, yet
lived like a voluptuous epicure, and died like an effeminate
coward.——
Haste thee to Florence: 30
Here, take our letters; see ’em seal’d; away!
Report in private to the honour’d duke
His daughter’s forc’d disgrace; tell him at length
We know too much: due compliments[2713] advance:
There’s naught that’s safe and sweet but ignorance. _Exit._ 35

[_Enter_[2714] BIANCA.

_Bil._ Madam, I am going ambassador for Florence; ’t will be great
charges to me.

_Bian._ No matter, my lord, you have the lease of two manors come out
next Christmas; you may lay your tenants on the greater rack (40) for
it: and when you come home again, I’ll teach you how you shall get
two hundred pounds a-year by your teeth.

_Bil._ How, madam?

_Bian._ Cut off so much from house-keeping: (45) that which is saved
by the teeth, you know, is got by the teeth.

_Bil._ ’Fore God, and so I may; I am in wondrous credit, lady.

_Bian._ See the use of flattery: I did ever (50) counsel you to
flatter greatness, and you have profited well: any man that will do
so shall be sure to be like your Scotch barnacle,[2715] now a block,
instantly a worm, and presently a great goose: this it is to rot and
putrefy in the bosom of greatness. 55

_Bil._ Thou art ever my politician. O, how happy is that old lord
that hath a politician to his young lady! I’ll have fifty gentlemen
shall attend upon me: marry, the most of them (60) shall be farmer’s
sons, because they shall bear their own charges: and they shall
go apparelled thus,—in sea-water-green suits, ash-colour cloaks,
watchet stockings, and popinjay-green feathers: will not the colours
do excellent? 65

_Bian._ Out upon ’t! they’ll look like citizens riding to their
friends at Whitsuntide; their apparel just so many several parishes.

_Bil._ I’ll have it so; and Passarello, my fool, shall go along with
me; marry, he shall be in velvet. 71

_Bian._ A fool in velvet!

_Bil._ Ay, ’t is common for your fool to wear satin; I’ll have mine
in velvet.

_Bian._ What will you wear, then, my lord? 75

_Bil._ Velvet too; marry, it shall be embroidered, because I’ll
differ from the fool somewhat. I am horribly troubled with the gout:
nothing grieves me, but that my doctor hath forbidden me wine, and
you know your ambassador (80) must drink. Didst thou ask thy doctor
what was good for the gout?

_Bian._ Yes; he said, ease, wine, and women, were good for it.

_Bil._ Nay, thou hast such a wit! What was good to cure it,
said he? 86

_Bian._ Why, the rack. All your empirics could never do the like cure
upon the gout the rack did in England, or your Scotch boot.[2716] The
French harlequin will instruct you. 90

_Bil._ Surely, I do wonder how thou, having for the most part of thy
lifetime been a country body, shouldst have so good a wit.

_Bian._ Who, I? Why, I have been a courtier thrice two months. 95

_Bil._ So have I this twenty year, and yet there was a
gentleman-usher called me coxcomb t’ other day, and to my face too:
was ’t not a backbiting rascal? I would I were better travelled, that
I might have been better acquainted with the fashions of several
countrymen; (101) but my secretary, I think, he hath sufficiently
instructed me.

_Bian._ How, my lord?

_Bil._ “Marry, my good lord,” quoth he, (105) “your lordship shall
ever find amongst a hundred Frenchmen forty hot-shots; amongst a
hundred Spaniards, three-score braggarts; amongst a hundred Dutchmen,
four-score drunkards; amongst an hundred Englishmen, four-score 110
and ten madmen; and amongst an hundred Welshmen”——

_Bian._ What, my lord?

_Bil._ “Four-score and nineteen gentlemen.”[2717]

_Bian._ But since you go about a sad embassy. I would have you go in
black, my lord. 116

_Bil._ Why, dost think I cannot mourn, unless I wear my hat in
cypress,[2718] like an alderman’s heir? That’s vile, very old, in
faith. 119

_Bian._ I’ll learn of you shortly: O, we should have a fine gallant
of you, should not I instruct you! How will you bear yourself when
you come into the Duke of Florence’ court?

_Bil._ Proud enough, and ’t will do well enough. As I walk up and
down the chamber, I’ll (125) spit frowns about me, have a strong
perfume in my jerkin, let my beard grow to make me look terrible,
salute no man beneath the fourth button; and ’t will do excellent.

_Bian._ But there is a very beautiful lady (130) there; how will you
entertain her?

_Bil._ I’ll tell you that, when the lady hath entertained me: but to
satisfy thee, here comes the fool.
_Enter_ PASSARELLO.
Fool, thou shalt stand for the fair lady. 135

_Pass._ Your fool will stand for your lady most willingly and most
uprightly.

_Bil._ I’ll salute her in Latin.

_Pass._ O, your fool can understand no Latin.

_Bil._ Ay. but your lady can. 140

_Pass._ Why, then, if your lady take down your fool, your fool will
stand no longer for your lady.

_Bil._ A pestilent fool! ’fore God, I think the world be turned
upside down too. 145

_Pass._ O, no, sir; for then your lady and all the ladies in the
palace should go with their heels upward, and that were a strange
sight, you know. 149

_Bil._ There be many will repine at my preferment.

_Pass._ O, ay, like the envy of an elder sister, that hath her
younger made a lady before her.

_Bil._ The duke is wondrous discontented.

_Pass._ Ay, and more melancholic than a (155) usurer having all his
money out at the death of a prince.

_Bil._ Didst thou see Madam Floria to-day?

_Pass._ Yes, I found her repairing her face today; the red upon the
white showed as if (160) her cheeks should have been served in for
two dishes of barberries in stewed broth, and the flesh to them a
woodcock.

_Bil._ A bitter fool![2719] Come, madam, this night thou shalt enjoy
me freely, and tomorrow (165) for Florence.

_Pass._ What a natural fool is he that would be a pair of
bodies[2720] to a woman’s petticoat, to be trussed and pointed to
them! Well, I’ll dog my lord; and the word is proper: for when I 170
fawn upon him, he feeds me; when I snap him by the fingers, he spits
in my mouth. If a dog’s death were not strangling, I had rather be
one than a serving-man; for the corruption of coin is either the
generation of a usurer or a lousy (175) beggar.
_Exeunt_ BIANCA _and_ PASSARELLO.]

SCENE II.[2721]

_Enter_ MALEVOLE _in some frieze gown, whilst_ BILIOSO _reads his patent_.

_Mal._ I cannot sleep; my eyes’ ill-neighbouring lids
Will hold no fellowship. O thou pale sober night,
Thou that in sluggish fumes all sense dost steep;
Thou that giv’st all the world full leave to play,
Unbend’st the feebled veins of sweaty labour!
The galley-slave, that all the toilsome day 6
Tugs at his oar against the stubborn wave,
Straining his rugged veins, snores fast;
The stooping scythe-man, that doth barb[2722] the field,
Thou mak’st wink sure: in night all creatures sleep; 10
Only the malcontent, that ’gainst his fate
Repines and quarrels,—alas he’s goodman tell-clock!
His sallow jaw-bones sink with wasting moan;
Whilst others’ beds are down, his pillow’s stone.

_Bil._ Malevole! 15

_Mal._ Elder of Israel, thou honest defect of wicked nature and
obstinate ignorance, when did thy wife let thee lie with her?

_Bil._ I am going ambassador to Florence.

_Mal._ Ambassador! Now, for thy country’s (20) honour, prithee, do
not put up mutton and porridge i’ thy cloak-bag. Thy young lady wife
goes to Florence with thee too, does she not?

_Bil._ No, I leave her at the palace. 24

_Mal._ At the palace! Now, discretion shield, man! For God’s love,
let’s ha’ no more cuckolds! Hymen begins to put off his saffron
robe:[2723] keep thy wife i’ the state of grace. Heart o’ truth, I
would sooner leave my lady singled in a bordello than in the Genoa
palace: 30
Sin there appearing in her sluttish shape,
Would soon grow loathsome, even to blushes’ sense;
Surfeit would choke[2724] intemperate appetite,
Make the soul scent the rotten breath of lust.
When in an Italian lascivious palace, 35
A lady guardianless,
Left to the push of all allurement,
The strongest incitements to immodesty,
To have her bound, incens’d with wanton sweets,
Her veins fill’d high with heating delicates, 40
Soft rest, sweet music, amorous masquerers,
Lascivious banquets, sin itself gilt o’er,
Strong fantasy tricking up strange delights,
Presenting it dress’d pleasingly to sense,
Sense leading it unto the soul, confirm’d 45
With potent examples, impudent custom,
Entic’d by that great bawd, Opportunity;
Thus being prepar’d, clap to her easy ear
Youth in good clothes, well-shap’d, rich,
Fair-spoken, promising, noble, ardent, blood-full, 50
Witty, flattering,—Ulysses absent,
O Ithaca, can chastest Penelope hold out?

_Bil._ Mass, I’ll think on ’t. Farewell.

_Mal._ Farewell. Take thy wife with thee.
Farewell. _Exit_ BILIOSO.
To Florence; um! it may prove good, it may!
And we may once unmask our brows. 56

SCENE III.[2725]

_Enter_ COUNT CELSO.

_Celso._ My honour’d lord—,

_Mal._ Celso, peace! how is ’t? Speak low: pale fears
Suspect that hedges, walls, and trees, have ears:
Speak, how runs all?

_Celso._ I’ faith, my lord, that beast with many heads, 5
The staggering multitude, recoils apace:
Though thorough great men’s envy, most men’s malice,
Their much-intemperate heat hath banish’d you,
Yet now they find envy and malice ne’er
Produce faint reformation. 10
The duke, the too soft duke, lies as a block,
For which two tugging factions seem to saw;
But still the iron through the ribs they draw.

_Mal._ I tell thee, Celso, I have ever found
Thy breast most far from shifting cowardice 15
And fearful baseness: therefore I’ll tell thee, Celso,
I find the wind begins to come about;
I’ll shift my suit of fortune.
I know the Florentine, whose only force,[2726]
By marrying his proud daughter to this prince, 20
Both banish’d me and made this weak lord duke,
Will now forsake them all; be sure he will.
I’ll lie in ambush for conveniency,
Upon their severance to confirm myself.

_Celso._ Is Ferneze interr’d? 25

_Mal._ Of that at leisure: he lives.

_Celso._ But how stands Mendoza? How is ’t with him?

_Mal._ Faith, like a pair of snuffers, snibs filth in other men, and
retains it in himself. 30

_Celso._ He does fly from public notice, methinks, as a hare does
from hounds; the feet whereon he flies betray him.

_Mal._ I can track him, Celso.
O, my disguise fools him most powerfully! 35
For that I seem a desperate malcontent,
He fain would clasp with me: he’s the true slave
That will put on the most affected grace
For some vile second cause.

_Enter_ MENDOZA.

_Celso._ He’s here. 40

_Mal._ Give place. _Exit_ CELSO.
Illo, ho, ho, ho! art there, old truepenny? Where hast thou spent
thyself this morning? I see flattery in thine eyes, and damnation in
thy soul. Ha, ye huge rascal! 45

_Men._ Thou art very merry.

_Mal._ As a scholar, _futuens gratis_. How does the devil go with
thee now?

_Men._ Malevole, thou art an arrant knave.

_Mal._ Who, I? I have been a sergeant, (50) man.

_Men._ Thou art very poor.

_Mal._ As Job, an alchymist, or a poet.

_Men._ The duke hates thee.

_Mal._ As Irishmen do bum-cracks. 55

_Men._ Thou hast lost his amity.

_Mal._ As pleasing as maids lose their virginity.

_Men._ Would thou wert of a lusty spirit! Would thou wert noble! 60

_Mal._ Why, sure my blood gives me I am noble, sure I am of noble
kind; for I find myself possessed with all their qualities;—love
dogs, dice, and drabs, scorn wit in stuff-clothes; have beat my
shoemaker, knocked my seamstress, (65) cuckold[ed] my ’pothecary,
and undone my tailor. Noble! why not? since the stoic[2727] said,
_Neminem servum non ex regibus, neminem regem non ex servis esse
oriundum_; only busy Fortune touses, and the provident Chances 70
blend them together. I’ll give you a simile: did you e’er see a well
with two buckets, whilst one comes up full to be emptied, another
goes down empty to be filled? Such is the state of all humanity.
Why, look you, I may (75) be the son of some duke; for, believe me,
intemperate lascivious bastardy makes nobility doubtful: I have a
lusty daring heart, Mendoza. 79

_Men._ Let’s grasp; I do like thee infinitely. Wilt enact one thing
for me?

_Mal._ Shall I get by it? (MEN. _gives him his purse_.) Command me; I
am thy slave, beyond death and hell.

_Men._ Murder the duke. 85

_Mal._ My heart’s wish, my soul’s desire, my fantasy’s dream, my
blood’s longing, the only height of my hopes! How, O God, how! O, how
my united spirits throng together, to strengthen my resolve! 90

_Men._ The duke is now a-hunting.

_Mal._ Excellent, admirable, as the devil would have it! Lend me,
lend me, rapier, pistol, cross-bow: so, so, I’ll do it.

_Men._ Then we agree. 95

_Mal._ As Lent and fishmongers. Come, a-cap-a-pe, how? Inform.

_Men._ Know that this weak-brain’d duke, who only stands
On Florence’ stilts, hath out of witless zeal
Made me his heir, and secretly confirm’d 100
The wreath to me after his life’s full point.

_Mal._ Upon what merit?

_Men._ Merit! by heaven, I horn him.
Only Ferneze’s death gave me state’s life.
Tut, we are politic, he must not live now. 104

_Mal._ No reason, marry: but how must he die now?

_Men._ My utmost project is to murder the duke, that I might have
his state, because he makes me his heir; to banish the duchess, that
I might be rid of a cunning Lacedaemonian, (110) because I know
Florence will forsake her; and then to marry Maria, the banished
Duke Altofront’s wife, that her friends might strengthen me and my
faction: that is all, la. 115

_Mal._ Do you love Maria?

_Men._ Faith, no great affection, but as wise men do love great
women, to ennoble their blood and augment revenue. To accomplish this
now, thus now. The duke is in the forest, next the sea: (120) single
him, kill him, hurl him i’ the main, and proclaim thou sawest wolves
eat him.

_Mal._ Um! Not so good. Methinks when he is slain,
To get some hypocrite, some dangerous wretch
That’s muffled o(’e)r with feigned holiness, 125
To swear he heard the duke on some steep cliff
Lament his wife’s dishonour, and, in an agony
Of his heart’s torture, hurl’d his groaning sides
Into the swollen sea,—this circumstance
Well made sounds probable: and hereupon 130
The duchess——

_Men._ May well be banish’d;
O unpeerable invention! rare!
Thou god of policy! it honeys me.

_Mal._ Then fear not for the wife of Altofront;
I’ll close to her. 135

_Men._ Thou shalt, thou shalt. Our excellency is pleas’d:
Why wert not thou an emperor? When we
Are duke, I’ll make thee some great man, sure.

_Mal._ Nay. Make me some rich knave, and I’ll make myself
Some great man.

_Men._ In thee be all my spirit: 140
Retain ten souls, unite thy virtual powers:
Resolve; ha, remember greatness! Heart, farewell;
The fate of all my hopes in thee doth dwell. [_Exit._]

_Re-enter_ CELSO.

_Mal._ Celso, didst hear?—O heaven, didst hear
Such devilish mischief? Suffer’st thou the world 145
Carouse damnation even with greedy swallow,
And still dost wink, still does thy vengeance slumber?
If now thy brows are clear, when will they thunder? _Exeunt._

SCENE IV.[2728]

Enter PIETRO, FERRARDO, PREPASSO, _and_ THREE PAGES.

_Fer._ The dogs are at a fault.
_Cornets like horns._

_Pietro._ Would God nothing but the dogs were at it! Let the deer
pursue safety,[2729] the dogs follow the game, and do you follow the
dogs: as for me, ’t is unfit one beast should hunt another; (5) I ha’
one chaseth me: an ’t please you, I would be rid of ye a little.

_Fer._ Would your grief would, as soon as we, leave you to quietness!

_Pietro._ I thank you. 10
_Exeunt_ [FERRARDO _and_ PREPASSO].
Boy, what dost thou dream of now?

_1 Page._ Of a dry summer, my lord; for here’s a hot world towards:
but, my lord, I had a strange dream last night.

_Pietro._ What strange dream? 15

_1 Page._ Why, methought I pleased you with singing, and then I
dreamt that you gave me that short sword.

_Pietro._ Prettily begged: hold thee, I’ll prove thy dream true; take
’t. [_Giving sword._] 20

_1 Page._ My duty: but still I dreamt on, my lord; and methought, an
’t shall please your excellency, you would needs out of your royal
bounty give me that jewel in your hat.

_Pietro._ O, thou didst but dream, boy; do (25) not believe it:
dreams prove not always true; they may hold in a short sword, but
not in a jewel. But now, sir, you dreamt you had pleased me with
singing; make that true, as I ha’ made the other. 30

_1 Page._ Faith, my lord, I did but dream, and dreams, you say, prove
not always true; they may hold in a good sword, but not in a good
song. The truth is, I ha’ lost my voice.

_Pietro._ Lost thy voice! How? 35

_1 Page._ With dreaming, faith: but here ’s a couple of sirenical
rascals shall enchant ye. What shall they sing, my good lord?

_Pietro._ Sing of the nature of women: and then the song shall be
surely full of variety, (40) old crotchets, and most sweet closes; it
shall be humorous, grave, fantastic, amorous, melancholy, sprightly,
one in all, and all in one.

_1 Page._ All in one!

_Pietro._ By ’r lady, too many. Sing: my (45) speech grows culpable
of unthrifty idleness:[2730] sing.

_Song_ [_by_ 2 _and_ 3 Pages].

SCENE V.[2731]

[_To Pietro_] _Enter_ MALEVOLE, _with cross-bow and pistol_.

_Pietro._ Ah, so, so, sing. I am heavy: walk off; I shall talk in my
sleep: walk off. _Exeunt_ PAGES.

_Mal._ Brief, brief: who? The Duke! Good heaven, that fools
Should stumble upon greatness!—Do not sleep, duke; 4
Give ye good-morrow. I[2732] must be brief, duke;
I am fee’d to murder thee:—start not:—Mendoza,
Mendoza hir’d me; here ’s his gold, his pistol,
Cross-bow, [and] sword: ’t is all as firm as earth.
O fool, fool, choked with the common maze
Of easy idiots, credulity! 10
Make him thine heir! What, thy sworn murderer!

_Pietro._ O, can it be?

_Mal._ Can!

_Pietro._ Discover’d he not Ferneze?

_Mal._ Yes, but why? but why? For love to thee? 15
Much, much! To be reveng’d upon his rival,
Who had thrust his jaws awry;
Who being slain, suppos’d by thine own hands,
Defended by his sword, made thee most loathsome,
Him most gracious with thy loose princess: 20
Thou, closely[2733] yielding egress and regress to her,
Madest him heir; whose hot unquiet lust
Straight tous’d thy sheets, and now would seize thy state.
Politician! Wise man! Death! to be
Led to the stake like a bull by the horns; 25
To make even kindness cut a gentle throat!
Life, why art thou numb’d? Thou foggy dulness, speak:
Lives not more faith in a home-thrusting tongue
Than in those fencing tip-tap courtiers?

_Enter_ CELSO, _with a hermit’s gown and beard._

[_Pietro._][2734] Lord Malevole, if this be true—

_Mal._ If! Come, shade thee with this disguise. (31) If! Thou shalt
handle it; he shall thank thee for killing thyself. Come, follow my
directions, and thou shalt see strange sleights.

_Pietro._ World, whither wilt thou? 35

_Mal._ Why, to the devil. Come, the morn grows late:
A steady quickness is the soul of state. _Exeunt._