Chapter XXX: Act III: Scene I

LACTANTIO’S _lodgings in the Cardinal’s mansion_.

_Enter_ LACTANTIO _and Page_.[898]

PAGE. Think of your shame and mine.
LAC. I prithee, peace:
Thou art th’ unfortunat’st piece of taking business
That ever man repented when day peep’d;
I’ll ne’er keep such a piece of touchwood again,
And[899] I were rid of thee once. Well fare those
That never sham’d their master! I’ve had such,
And I may live to see the time again;
I do not doubt on’t.
PAGE. If my too much kindness
Receive your anger only for reward,
The harder is my fortune: I must tell you, sir,
To stir your care up to prevention,
(Misfortunes must be told as well as blessings,)
When I left all my friends in Mantua,
For your love’s sake alone, then, with strange oaths,
You promis’d present marriage.
LAC. With strange oaths, quoth 'a?
They’re not so strange to me; I’ve sworn the same things
I’m sure forty times over, not so little;
I may be perfect in 'em, for my standing.
PAGE. You see ’tis high time now, sir.
LAC. Yes, yes, yes,
Marriage is nothing with you; a toy[900] till death.
If I should marry all those I have promis’d,
'Twould make one vicar hoarse ere he could despatch us.—
I must devise some shift when she grows big,
Those masculine hose[901] will shortly prove too little:
What if she were convey’d to nurse’s house?
A good sure old wench; and she’d love the child well,
Because she suckled the father: no ill course,
By my mortality; I may hit worse.— [_Aside._

_Enter_ DONDOLO.

Now, Dondolo, the news?
DON. The news?
LAC. How does she?
DON. Soft, soft, sir; you think ’tis nothing to get
news
Out o’ th’ castle: I was there.
LAC. Well, sir.
DON. As you know,
A merry fellow may pass any where.
LAC. So, sir.
DON. Never in better fooling in my life.
LAC. What’s this to th’ purpose?
DON. Nay, ’twas nothing to th’ purpose, that’s
certain.
LAC. How wretched this slave makes me! Didst not see
her?
DON. I saw her.
LAC. Well, what said she then?
DON. Not a word, sir.
LAC. How, not a word?
DON. Proves her the better maid,
For virgins should be seen more than they’re heard.
LAC. Exceeding good, sir; you are no sweet
villain![902]
DON. No, faith, sir, for you keep me in foul linen.
LAC. Turn’d scurvy rhymer, are you?
DON. Not scurvy neither,
Though I be somewhat itchy in the profession:
If you could hear me out with patience, I know
Her mind as well as if I were in her belly.
LAC. Thou saidst even now she never spake a word.
DON. But she gave certain signs, and that’s as good.
LAC. Canst thou conceive by signs?
DON. O, passing well, sir,
Even from an infant! did you ne’er know that?
I was the happiest child in all our country;
I was born of a dumb woman.
LAC. How?
DON. Stark dumb, sir.
My father had a rare bargain of her, a rich pennyworth;
There would have been but too much money given for her:
A justice of peace was about her; but my father,
Being then constable, carried her before him.
LAC. Well, since we’re enter’d into these dumb shows,
What were the signs she gave you?
DON. Many and good, sir.
_Imprimis_, she first gap’d, but that I guess’d
Was done for want of air, 'cause she’s kept close;
But had she been abroad and gap’d as much,
'T had been another case: then cast she up
Her pretty eye and wink’d; the word methought was then,
Come not till twitterlight:[903]
Next, thus her fingers went, as who should say,
I’d fain have a hole broke to ’scape away:
Then look’d upon her watch, and twice she nodded,
As who should say, the hour will come, sweetheart,
That I shall make two noddies of my keepers.
LAC. A third of thee. Is this your mother-tongue?
My hopes are much the wiser for this language:
There’s no such curse in love to[904] an arrant ass!
DON. O yes, sir, yes, an arrant whore’s far worse.
You never lin[905]
Railing on me from one week’s end to another;
But you can keep a little tit-mouse page there,
That’s good for nothing but to carry toothpicks,
Put up your pipe or so, that’s all he’s good for:
He cannot make him ready[906] as he should do;
I am fain to truss his points[907] every morning;
Yet the proud, scornful ape, when all the lodgings
Were taken up with strangers th’ other night,
He would not suffer me to come to bed to him,
But kick’d, and prick’d, and pinch’d me like an
urchin;[908]
There’s no good quality in him: o’ my conscience,
I think he scarce knows how to stride a horse;
I saw him with a little hunting nag
But thus high t’other day, and he was fain
To lead him to a high rail, and get up like a
butter-wench:
There’s no good fellowship in this dandiprat,[909]
This dive-dapper,[910] as is in other pages;
They’d go a-swimming with me familiarly
I’ th’ heat of summer, and clap what-you-call-'ems;
But I could never get that little monkey yet
To put off his breeches:
A tender, puling, nice, chitty-fac’d squall[911] ’tis.
LAC. Is this the good you do me? his love’s wretched,
And most distress’d, that must make use of fools.
DON. Fool to my face still! that’s unreasonable;
I will be a knave one day for this trick,
Or’t shall cost me a fall, though it be from a gibbet;
It has been many a proper man’s last leap.
Nay, sure I’ll be quite out of the precincts
Of a fool if I live but two days to an end;
I will turn gipsy presently,
And that’s the highway to the daintiest knave
That ever mother’s son took journey to.
O those dear gipsies!
They live the merriest lives, eat sweet stoln hens,
Pluck’d over pales or hedges by a twitch;
They’re ne’er without a plump and lovely goose,
Or beautiful sow-pig;
Those things I saw with mine own eyes to-day:
They call those vanities and trifling pilfries;
But if a privy search were made amongst 'em,
They should find other manner of ware about 'em,
Cups, rings, and silver spoons, byrlady![912] bracelets,
Pearl necklaces, and chains of gold sometimes:
They are the wittiest thieves! I’ll stay no longer,
But even go look what I can steal now presently,
And so begin to bring myself acquainted with 'em.
[_Aside, and exit._
LAC. Nothing I fear so much, as in this time
Of my dull absence, her first love, the general,
Will wind himself into her affection
By secret gifts and letters; there’s the mischief!
I have no enemy like him; though my policy
Dissembled him a welcome, no man’s hate
Can stick more close unto a loath’d disease
Than mine to him.

_Enter Cardinal._

CAR. What ails this pretty boy to weep so often?—
Tell me the cause, child;—how his eyes stand full!—
Beshrew you, nephew, you’re too bitter to him!
He is so soft, th’ unkindness of a word
Melts him into a woman.—'Las, poor boy,
Thou shalt not serve him longer; 'twere great pity
That thou shouldst wait upon an angry master:
I’ve promis’d thee to one will make much of thee,
And hold thy weak youth in most dear respect.
PAGE. O, I beseech your grace that I may serve
No master else!
CAR. Thou shalt not: mine’s a mistress,
The greatest mistress in all Milan, boy,
The duchess’ self.
PAGE. Nor her, nor any.
CAR. Cease, boy!
Thou know’st not thine own happiness, through
fondness,[913]
And therefore must be learnt: go, dry thine eyes.
PAGE. This rather is the way to make 'em moister.
[_Aside, and exit._
CAR. Now, nephew! nephew!
LAC. O, you’ve snatch’d my spirit, sir,
From the divinest meditation
That ever made soul happy!
CAR. I’m afraid
I shall have as much toil to bring him on now,
As I had pains to keep her off from him. [_Aside._
I’ve thought it fit, nephew, considering
The present barrenness of our name and house,
The only famine of succeeding honour,
To move the ripeness of your time to marriage.
LAC. How, sir, to marriage?
CAR. Yes, to a fruitful life:
We must not all be strict; so generation
Would lose her right: thou’rt young; ’tis my desire
To see thee bestow’d happily in my lifetime.
LAC. Does your grace well remember who I am,
When you speak this?
CAR. Yes, very perfectly;
You’re a young man, full in the grace of life,
And made to do love credit; proper, handsome,
And for affection pregnant.
LAC. I beseech you, sir,
Take off your praises rather than bestow 'em
Upon so frail a use. Alas, you know, sir,
I know not what love is, or what you speak of!
If woman be amongst it, I shall swoon;
Take her away, for contemplation’s sake:
Most serious uncle, name no such thing to me.
CAR. Come, come, you’re fond:[914]
Prove but so strict and obstinate in age,
And you are well to pass. There’s honest love
Allow’d you now for recreation;
The years will come when all delights must leave you,
Stick close to virtue then; in the meantime
There’s honourable joys to keep youth company;
And if death take you there, dying no adulterer,
You’re out of his eternal reach; defy him.
List hither; come to me, and with great thankfulness
Welcome thy fortunes; ’tis the duchess loves thee!
LAC. The duchess?
CAR. Doats on thee; will die for thee,
Unless she may enjoy thee.
LAC. She must die then.
CAR. How?
LAC. 'Las, do you think she ever means to do’t, sir?
I’ll sooner believe all a woman speaks
Than that she’ll die for love: she has a vow, my lord,
That will keep life in her.
CAR. Believe me, then,
That should have bounteous interest in thy faith,
She’s thine, and not her vow’s.
LAC. The more my sorrow,
My toil, and my destruction.— My blood dances![915]
[_Aside._
CAR. And though that bashful maiden virtue in thee,
That never held familiar league with woman,
Binds fast all pity to her heart that loves thee,
Let me prevail, my counsel stands up to thee,
Embrace it as the fulness of thy fortunes,
As if all blessings upon earth were clos’d
Within one happiness, for such another
Whole life could never meet with: go and present
Your service and your love; but, on your hopes,
Do it religiously. What need I doubt him
Whom chastity locks up?
LAC. O envy,
Hadst thou no other means to come by virtue
But by such treachery? the duchess’ love!
Thou wouldst be sure to aim it high enough,
Thou knew’st full well ’twas no prevailing else.—
[_Aside._

Sir, what your will commands, mine shall fulfil;
I’ll teach my heart in all t’ obey your will.
CAR. A thing you shall not lose by. Here come the
lords:

_Enter Lords._

Go, follow you the course that I advis’d you;
The comfort of thy presence is expected:
Away with speed to court; she languishes
For one dear sight of thee: for life’s sake, haste;
You lose my favour if you let her perish.
LAC. And art thou come, brave fortune, the reward
Of neat'[st] hypocrisy that ever book’d it,[916]
Or turn’d up transitory white o’ th’ eye
After the feminine rapture? Duchess and I
Were a fit match, can be denied of no man;
The best dissembler lights on the best woman;
'Twere sin to part us. [_Aside, and exit._
CAR. You lights of state, truth’s friends,
much-honour’d lords,
Faithful admirers of our duchess’ virtues,
And firm believers, it appears as plain
As knowledge to the eyes of industry,
That neither private motion, which holds counsel
Often with woman’s frailty and her blood,
Nor public sight, the lightning of temptations,
Which from the eye strikes sparks into the bosom,
And sets whole hearts on fire, hath power to raise
A heat in her 'bove that which feeds chaste life,
And gives that cherishing means; she’s the same still,
And seems so seriously employ’d in soul,
As if she could not 'tend to cast an eye
Upon deserts so low as those in man.
It merits famous memory I confess;
Yet many times when I behold her youth,
And think upon the lost hopes of posterity,
Succession, and the royal fruits of beauty,
All by the rashness of one vow made desperate,
It goes so near my heart, I feel it painful,
And wakes me into pity oftentimes,
When others sleep unmov’d.
FIRST LORD. I speak it faithfully,
For ’tis poor fame to boast of a disease,
Your grace has not endur’d that pain alone,
'T has been a grief of mine; but where’s the remedy?
CAR. True, there your lordship spake enough in little:
There’s nothing to be hop’d for but repulses;
She’s not to seek[917] for armour against love
That has bid battle to his powers so long;
He that should try her now had need come strong,
And with more force than his own arguments,
Or he may part disgrac’d, being put to flight;
That soldier’s tough has been in seven years’ fight.
Her vow’s invincible; for you must grant this,
If those desires, train’d up in flesh and blood
To war continually 'gainst good intents,
Prove all too weak for her, having advantage
Both of her sex and her unskilfulness
At a spiritual weapon, wanting knowledge
To manage resolution, and yet win,
What force can a poor argument bring in?
The books that I have publish’d in her praise
Commend her constancy, and that’s fame-worthy;
But if you read me o’er with eyes of enemies,
You cannot justly and with honour tax me
That I dissuade her life from marriage there:
Now heaven and fruitfulness forbid, not I!
She may be constant there, and the hard war
Of chastity is held a virtuous strife,
As rare in marriage as in single life;
Nay, by some writers rarer; hear their reasons,
And you’ll approve 'em fairly. She that’s single,
Either in maid or widow, oftentimes
The fear of shame, more than the fear of heaven,
Keeps chaste and constant; when the tempest comes,
She knows she has no shelter for her sin,
It must endure the weathers of all censure;
Nothing but sea and air that poor bark feels:
When she in wedlock is like a safe vessel
That lies at anchor; come what weathers can,
She has her harbour; at her great unlading,
Much may be stoln, and little waste;[918] the master
Thinks himself rich enough with what he has,
And holds content by that. How think you now, lords?
If she that might offend safe does not err,
What’s chaste in others is most rare in her.
SEC. LORD. What wisdom but approves it?
FIRST LORD. But, my lord,
This should be told to her it concerns most;
Pity such good things should be spoke and lost.
CAR. That were the way to lose 'em utterly;
You quite forget her vow: yet, now I think on’t,
What is that vow? ’twas but a thing enforc’d,
Was it not, lords?
FIRST LORD. Merely compell’d indeed.
CAR. Only to please the duke; and forcèd virtue
Fails in her merit, there’s no crown prepar’d for’t.
What have we done, my lords? I fear we’ve sinn’d
In too much strictness to uphold her in’t,
In cherishing her will; for woman’s goodness
Takes counsel of that first, and then determines;
She cannot truly be call’d constant now,
If she persèver, rather obstinate,
The vow appearing forcèd, as it proves,
Tried by our purer thoughts; the grace and triumph
Of all her victories are but idle glories,
She wilful, and we enemies to succession.
I will not take rest till I tell her soul
As freely as I talk to those I keep.
LORDS. And we’ll all second you, my lord.
CAR. Agreed:
We’ll knit such knots of arguments so fast,
All wit in her shall not undo in haste.
SEC. LORD. Nay, sure, I think all we shall be too hard
for her,
Else she’s a huge wild creature.
FIRST LORD. If we win,
And she yield marriage, then will I strike in.
[_Aside._
[_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_An apartment in the house of the Duchess._

_Enter Duchess and_ CELIA.

DUCH. Thou tell’st me happy things, if they be certain,
To bring my wishes about wondrous strangely;
Lactantio, nephew to the cardinal,
The general’s secret enemy?
CELIA. Most true, madam;
I had it from a gentleman, my kinsman,
That knows the best part of Lactantio’s bosom.
DUCH. It happens passing fortunately to save
Employment in another; he will 'come now
A necessary property; he may thank
The need and use we have of him for his welcome.
[_Knocking within._

Now, who’s that knocks?
CELIA [_after going out and re-entering_.] Madam, ’tis
he, with speed:
I thought he had brought his horse to th’ chamber-door,
He made such haste and noise.
DUCH. Admit him, prithee,
And have a care your heart be true and secret.
CELIA. Take life away from’t when it fails you, madam.
DUCH. Enough; I know thee wise.— [_Exit_ CELIA.
He comes with haste indeed.

_Enter_ LACTANTIO.

Are you come now, sir?
You should have stay’d yet longer, and have found me
Dead, to requite your haste.
LAC. Love bless you better, madam!
DUCH. Must I bid welcome to the man undoes me,
The cause of my vow’s breach, my honour’s enemy;
One that does all the mischief to my fame,
And mocks my seven years’ conquest with his name?
This is a force of love was never felt;
But I’ll not grudge at fortune, I will take
Captivity cheerfully: here, seize upon me,
And if thy heart can be so pitiless
To chain me up for ever in those arms,
I’ll take it mildly, ay, and thank my stars,
For we’re all subject to the chance of wars.
LAC. We are so; yet take comfort, vanquish’d duchess,
I’ll use you like an honourable prisoner,
You shall be [well] entreated; day shall be
Free for all sports to you, the night for me;
That’s all I challenge, all the rest is thine;
And for your fare 't shall be no worse than mine.
DUCH. Nay, then, I’m heartily pleasant, and as merry
As one that owes no malice, and that’s well, sir:
You cannot say so much for your part, can you?
LAC. Faith, all that I owe is to one man, madam,
And so can few men say: marry, that malice
Wears no dead flesh about it, ’tis a stinger.
DUCH. What is he that shall dare to be your enemy,
Having our friendship, if he be a servant
And subject to our law?
LAC. Yes, trust me, madam,
Of a vild[919] fellow I hold him a true subject;
There’s many arrant knaves that are good subjects,
Some for their living’s sakes, some for their lives,
That will unseen eat men, and drink their wives.
DUCH. They are as much in fault that know such people,
And yet conceal 'em from the whips of justice.
For love’s sake give me in your foe betimes,
Before he vex you further; I will order him
To your heart’s wishes, load him with disgraces,
That your revenge shall rather pity him
Than wish more weight upon him.
LAC. Say you so, madam?—
Here’s a bless’d hour, that feeds both love and hate;
Then take thy time, brave malice. [_Aside._]—Virtuous
princess,
The only enemy that my vengeance points to
Lives in Andrugio.
DUCH. What, the general?
LAC. That’s the man, madam.
DUCH. Are you serious, sir?
LAC. As at my prayers.
DUCH. We meet happily then
In both our wishes; he’s the only man
My will has had a longing to disgrace,
For divers capital contempts; my memory
Shall call 'em all together now; nay, sir,
I’ll bring his faith in war now into question,
And his late conference with the enemy.
LAC. Byrlady[920] a shrewd business and a dangerous!
Signor, your neck’s a-cracking.
DUCH. Stay, stay, sir;
Take pen and ink.
LAC. Here’s both, and paper, madam.
DUCH. I’ll take him in a fine trap.
LAC. That were excellent.
DUCH. A letter so writ would abuse him strangely.
LAC. Good madam, let me understand your mind,
And then take you no care for his abusing;
I serve for nothing else. I can write fast and fair,
Most true orthography, and observe my stops.
DUCH. Stay, stay awhile;
You do not know his hand.
LAC. A bastard Roman,
Much like mine own; I could go near it, madam.
DUCH. Marry, and shall.
LAC. We were once great together,
And writ Spanish epistles one to another,
To exercise the language.
DUCH. Did you so?
It shall be a bold letter of temptation,
With his name to’t, as writ and sent to me.
LAC. Can be no better, lady; stick there, madam,
And ne’er seek further.
DUCH. Begin thus: _Fair duchess_, say;
We must use flattery if we imitate man,
'Twill ne’er be thought his pen else.
LAC. _Most fair duchess._ [_Writing._
DUCH. What need you have put in _most_? yet since ’tis
in,
Let 't even go on; few women would find fault with’t;
We all love to be best, but seldom mend:
Go on, sir.
LAC. _Most fair duchess!_ here’s an admiration-point.
[_Writing._
DUCH. _The report of your vow shall not fear me_——
LAC. _Fear me_; two stops at fear me. [_Writing._
DUCH. _I know you’re but a woman_——
LAC. _But a woman_; a comma at woman. [_Writing._
DUCH. _And what a woman is, a wise man knows._
LAC. _Wise man knows_; a full prick there.
[_Writing._
DUCH. _Perhaps my condition[921], may seem blunt to
you_——
LAC. _Blunt to you_; a comma here again. [_Writing._
DUCH. _But no man’s love can be more sharp set_——
LAC. _Sharp set_; there a colon, for colon[922] is sharp
set oftentimes. _Writing._
DUCH. _And I know desires in both sexes have skill at
that weapon._
LAC. _Skill at that weapon_; a full prick here at
weapon. [_Writing._
DUCH. So, that will be enough; subscribe it thus now,
_One that vows service to your affections; signor such
a one._
LAC. _Signor Andrugio, G._; that stands for general.
[_Writing._
DUCH. And you shall stand for goose-cap. [_Aside._]—
Give me that: [_Taking letter._
Betake you to your business speedily, sir;
We give you full authority from our person,
In right of reputation, truth, and honour,
To take a strong guard, and attach his body;
That done, to bring him presently before us;
Then we know what to do.
LAC. My hate finds wings;
Man’s spirit flies swift to all revengeful things.
[_Aside, and exit._
DUCH. Why, here’s the happiness of my desires;
The means safe, unsuspected, far from thought;
His state is like the world’s condition right,
Greedy of gain, either by fraud or stealth;
And whilst one toils, another gets the wealth.
[_Exit._