Chapter CX: Act II: Scene I.3673

[_Enter_] BOSOLA _and_ CASTRUCCIO.

_Bos._ You say you would fain be taken for an eminent courtier?

_Cast._ ’T is the very main[3674] of my ambition.

_Bos._ Let me see: you have a reasonable good face for ’t already,
and your night-cap expresses your ears sufficient largely. I would
have you (5) learn to twirl the strings of your band with a good
grace, and in a set speech, at th’ end of every sentence, to hum
three or four times, or blow your nose till it smart again, to
recover your memory. When you come to be a (10) president in criminal
causes, if you smile upon a prisoner, hang him; but if you frown upon
him and threaten him, let him be sure to scape the gallows.

_Cast._ I would be a very merry president. 15

_Bos._ Do not sup o’ nights; ’t will beget you an admirable wit.

_Cast._ Rather it would make me have a good stomach to quarrel; for
they say, your roaring boys eat meat seldom, and that makes them so
valiant. But how shall I know whether the (20) people take me for an
eminent fellow?

_Bos._ I will teach a trick to know it: give out you lie a-dying, and
if you hear the common people curse you, be sure you are taken for
one of the prime night-caps.[3675] 25
[_Enter an_ Old Lady.]
You come from painting now.

_Old Lady._ From what?

_Bos._ Why, from your scurvy face-physic. To behold thee not painted
inclines somewhat near a miracle. These in thy face here were deep
ruts and foul sloughs the last progress.[3676] There was (31) a lady
in France that, having had the small-pox, flayed the skin off her
face to make it more level; and whereas before she looked like a
nutmeg-grater, after she resembled an abortive hedge-hog. 35

_Old Lady._ Do you call this painting?

_Bos._ No, no, but you call [it] careening[3677] of an old
morphew’d[3678] lady, to make her disembogue[3679] again: there ’s
rough-cast phrase to your plastic.[3680]

_Old Lady._ It seems you are well acquainted (40) with my closet.

_Bos._ One would suspect it for a shop of witch-craft, to find in it
the fat of serpents, spawn of snakes, Jews’ spittle, and their young
children’s ordure; and all these for the face. I would (45) sooner
eat a dead pigeon taken from the soles of the feet of one sick of
the plague, than kiss one of you fasting. Here are two of you, whose
sin of your youth is the very patrimony of the physician; makes him
renew his foot-cloth (50) with the spring, and change his high-pric’d
courtesan with the fall of the leaf. I do wonder you do not loathe
yourselves. Observe my meditation now.
What thing is in this outward form of man 55
To be belov’d? We account it ominous,
If nature do produce a colt, or lamb,
A fawn, or goat, in any limb resembling
A man, and fly from ’t as a prodigy.
Man stands amaz’d to see his deformity 60
In any other creature but himself.
But in our own flesh though we bear diseases
Which have their true names only ta’en from beasts,—
As the most ulcerous wolf[3681] and swinish measle,[3682]—
Though we are eaten up of lice and worms, 65
And though continually we bear about us
A rotten and dead body, we delight
To hide it in rich tissue: all our fear,
Nay, all our terror, is, lest our physician 69
Should put us in the ground to be made sweet.—
Your wife ’s gone to Rome: you two couple, and
get you to the wells at Lucca to recover your
aches. I have other work on foot.
[_Exeunt_ CASTRUCCIO _and_ Old Lady.]
I observe our duchess 74
Is sick a-days, she pukes, her stomach seethes,
The fins of her eye-lids look most teeming blue,[3683]
She wanes i’ th’ cheek, and waxes fat i’ th’ flank,
And, contrary to our Italian fashion,
Wears a loose-bodied gown: there’s somewhat in ’t.
I have a trick may chance discover it, 80
A pretty one; I have bought some apricocks,
The first our spring yields.

[_Enter_ ANTONIO _and_ DELIO, _talking together apart_.]

_Delio._ And so long since married?
You amaze me.

_Ant._ Let me seal your lips for ever:
For, did I think that anything but th’ air
Could carry these words from you, I should wish 85
You had no breath at all.—Now, sir, in your contemplation?
You are studying to become a great wise fellow.

_Bos._ O, sir, the opinion of wisdom is a foul tetter[3684] that runs
all over a man’s body: if simplicity direct us to have no evil, it
directs us (90) to a happy being; for the subtlest folly proceeds
from the subtlest wisdom. Let me be simply honest.

_Ant._ I do understand your inside.

_Bos._ Do you so?

_Ant._ Because you would not seem to appear to th’ world 95
Puff’d up with your preferment, you continue
This out-of-fashion melancholy: leave it, leave it.

_Bos._ Give me leave to be honest in any phrase, in any compliment
whatsoever. Shall I confess myself to you? I look no higher than 100
I can reach: they are the gods that must ride on winged horses.
A lawyer’s mule of a slow pace will both suit my disposition and
business; for, mark me, when a man’s mind rides faster than his horse
can gallop, they quickly both (105) tire.

_Ant._ You would look up to heaven, but I think
The devil, that rules i’ th’ air, stands in your light.

_Bos._ O, sir, you are lord of the ascendant,[3685] chief man with
the duchess: a duke was your (110) cousin-german remov’d. Say you
were lineally descended from King Pepin, or he himself, what of this?
Search the heads of the greatest rivers in the world, you shall find
them but bubbles of water. Some would think the souls of princes 115
were brought forth by some more weighty cause than those of meaner
persons: they are deceiv’d, there’s the same hand to them; the like
passions sway them; the same reason that makes a vicar go to law for
a tithe-pig, and (120) undo his neighbours, makes them spoil a whole
province, and batter down goodly cities with the cannon.

[_Enter_ DUCHESS _and_ Ladies.]

_Duch._ Your arm, Antonio: do I not grow fat?
I am exceeding short-winded.—Bosola, 125
I would have you, sir, provide for me a litter;
Such a one as the Duchess of Florence rode in.

_Bos._ The duchess us’d one when she was great with child.

_Duch._ I think she did.—Come hither, mend my ruff: 129
Here, when? thou art such a tedious lady; and
Thy breath smells of lemon-pills: wouldst thou hadst done!
Shall I swoon under thy fingers? I am
So troubled with the mother![3686]

_Bos._ [_Aside._] I fear, too much.

_Duch._ I have heard you say that the French courtiers
Wear their hats on ’fore the king. 135

_Ant._ I have seen it.

_Duch._ In the presence?

_Ant._ Yes.

_Duch._ Why should not we bring up that fashion?
’T is ceremony more than duty that consists
In the removing of a piece of felt.
Be you the example to the rest o’ th’ court; 140
Put on your hat first.

_Ant._ You must pardon me:
I have seen, in colder countries than in France,
Nobles stand bare to th’ prince; and the distinction
Methought show’d reverently.

_Bos._ I have a present for your grace.

_Duch._ For me, sir? 145

_Bos._ Apricocks, madam.

_Duch._ O, sir, where are they?
I have heard of none to-year.[3687]

_Bos._ [_Aside._] Good; her colour rises.

_Duch._ Indeed, I thank you: they are wondrous fair ones.
What an unskilful fellow is our gardener!
We shall have none this month. 150

_Bos._ Will not your grace pare them?

_Duch._ No: they taste of musk, methinks; indeed they do.

_Bos._ I know not: yet I wish your grace had par’d ’em.

_Duch._ Why?

_Bos._ I forgot to tell you, the knave gardener,
Only to raise his profit by them the sooner, 155
Did ripen them in horse-dung.

_Duch._ O, you jest.—
You shall judge: pray, taste one.

_Ant._ Indeed, madam,
I do not love the fruit.

_Duch._ Sir, you are loth
To rob us of our dainties. ’T is a delicate fruit;
They say they are restorative.

_Bos._ ’T is a pretty art, 160
This grafting.

_Duch._ ’T is so; a bett’ring of nature.

_Bos._ To make a pippin grow upon a crab,
A damson on a black-thorn.—[_Aside._] How greedily she eats them!
A whirlwind strike off these bawd farthingales!
For, but for that and the loose-bodied gown, 166
I should have discover’d apparently[3688]
The young springal[3689] cutting a caper in her belly.

_Duch._ I thank you, Bosola: they were right good ones,
If they do not make me sick.

_Ant._ How, now, madam! 170

_Duch._ This green fruit and my stomach are not friends:
How they swell me!

_Bos._ [_Aside._] Nay, you are too much swell’d already.

_Duch._ O, I am in an extreme cold sweat!

_Bos._ I am very sorry. [_Exit._]

_Duch._ Lights to my chamber!—O good Antonio, 175
I fear I am undone!

_Delio._ Lights there, lights!
_Exeunt_ DUCHESS [_and Ladies_].

_Ant._ O my most trusty Delio, we are lost!
I fear she’s fall’n in labour; and there’s left
No time for her remove.

_Delio._ Have you prepar’d
Those ladies to attend her; and procur’d 180
That politic safe conveyance for the midwife
Your duchess plotted?

_Ant._ I have.

_Delio._ Make use, then, of this forc’d occasion.
Give out that Bosola hath poison’d her
With these apricocks; that will give some colour 185
For her keeping close.

_Ant._ Fie, fie, the physicians
Will then flock to her.

_Delio._ For that you may pretend
She’ll use some prepar’d antidote of her own,
Lest the physicians should re-poison her. 190

_Ant._ I am lost in amazement: I know not what to think on ’t.
_Exeunt._

SCENE II.[3690]

[_Enter_] BOSOLA _and_ Old Lady.

_Bos._ So, so, there’s no question but her techiness[3691] and
most vulturous eating of the apricocks are apparent signs of
breeding.—Now?

_Old Lady._ I am in haste, sir.

_Bos._ There was a young waiting-woman had a monstrous desire to see
the glass-house—— 6

_Old Lady._ Nay, pray, let me go.

_Bos._ And it was only to know what strange instrument it was should
swell up a glass to the fashion of a woman’s belly. 10

_Old Lady._ I will hear no more of the glass-house. You are
still[3692] abusing women!

_Bos._ Who? I? No; only, by the way now and then, mention your
frailties. The orange-tree bears ripe and green fruit and blossoms
all (15) together; and some of you give entertainment for pure love,
but more for more precious reward. The lusty spring smells well; but
drooping autumn tastes well. If we have the same golden showers that
rained in the time of (20) Jupiter the thunderer, you have the same
Danäes still, to hold up their laps to receive them. Didst thou never
study the mathematics?

_Old Lady._ What’s that, sir? 25

_Bos._ Why, to know the trick how to make a many lines meet in one
centre. Go, go, give your foster-daughters good counsel: tell them,
that the devil takes delight to hang at a woman’s girdle, like a
false rusty watch, that (30) she cannot discern how the time passes.
[_Exit_ Old Lady.]

[_Enter_ ANTONIO, RODERIGO, _and_ GRISOLAN.]

_Ant._ Shut up the court-gates.

_Rod._ Why, sir? What’s the danger?

_Ant._ Shut up the posterns presently, and call
All the officers o’ th’ court.

_Gris._ I shall instantly. [_Exit._]

_Ant._ Who keeps the key o’ th’ park-gate?

_Rod._ Forobosco. 35

_Ant._ Let him bring ’t presently.

[_Re-enter_ GRISOLAN _with_ Servants.]

_1 Serv._ O, gentleman o’ th’ court, the foulest treason!

_Bos._ [_Aside._] If that these apricocks should be poison’d now,
Without my knowledge?

_1 Serv._ There was taken even now a Switzer in the duchess’
bed-chamber——- 40

_2 Serv._ A Switzer!

_1 Serv._ With a pistol in his great codpiece.

_Bos._ Ha, ha, ha!

_1 Serv._ The codpiece was the case for ’t.

_2 Serv._ There was a cunning traitor. Who would have search’d his
codpiece? 46

_1 Serv._ True; if he had kept out of the ladies’ chambers. And all
the moulds of his buttons were leaden bullets.

_2 Serv._ O wicked cannibal! A fire-lock in ’s codpiece! 50

_1 Serv._ ’T was a French plot, upon my life.

_2 Serv._ To see what the devil can do!

_Ant._ [Are] all the officers here?

_Servants._ We are.

_Ant._ Gentlemen, 55
We have lost much plate you know; and but this evening
Jewels, to the value of four thousand ducats,
Are missing in the duchess’ cabinet.
Are the gates shut?

_Serv._ Yes.

_Ant._ ’T is the duchess’ pleasure
Each officer be lock’d into his chamber 60
Till the sun-rising; and to send the keys
Of all their chests and of their outward doors
Into her bed-chamber. She is very sick.

_Rod._ At her pleasure.

_Ant._ She entreats you take ’t not ill: the innocent 65
Shall be the more approv’d by it.

_Bos._ Gentlemen o’ th’ wood-yard, where’s your Switzer now?

_1 Serv._ By this hand, ’t was credibly reported by one o’ th’ black
guard.[3693] 70
[_Exeunt all except_ ANTONIO _and_ DELIO.]

_Delio._ How fares it with the duchess?

_Ant._ She’s expos’d
Unto the worst of torture, pain and fear.

_Delio._ Speak to her all happy comfort.

_Ant._ How I do play the fool with mine own danger!
You are this night, dear friend, to post to Rome: 75
My life lies in your service.

_Delio._ Do not doubt me.

_Ant._ O, ’t is far from me: and yet fear presents me
Somewhat that looks like danger.

_Delio._ Believe it,
’T is but the shadow of your fear, no more.
How superstitiously we mind our evils! 80
The throwing down salt, or crossing of a hare,
Bleeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse,
Or singing of a cricket, are of power
To daunt whole man in us. Sir, fare you well:
I wish you all the joys of a bless’d father; 85
And, for my faith, lay this unto your breast,—
Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best. [_Exit._]

[_Enter_ CARIOLA.]

_Cari._ Sir, you are the happy father of a son:
Your wife commends him to you.

_Ant._ Blessed comfort!—
For heaven’ sake, tend her well: I ’ll presently[3694]
Go set a figure for ’s nativity.[3695] _Exeunt._ 91

SCENE III.[3696]

[_Enter_ BOSOLA, _with a dark lantern_.]

_Bos._ Sure I did hear a woman shriek: list, ha!
And the sound came, if I receiv’d it right,
From the duchess’ lodgings. There’s some stratagem
In the confining all our courtiers
To their several wards: I must have part of it;
My intelligence will freeze else. List, again! 5
It may be ’t was the melancholy bird,
Best friend of silence and of solitariness,
The owl, that scream’d so.—Ha! Antonio!

[_Enter_ ANTONIO _with a candle, his sword drawn._]

_Ant._ I heard some noise.—Who’s there?
What art thou? Speak. 10

_Bos._ Antonio, put not your face nor body
To such a forc’d expression of fear;
I am Bosola, your friend.

_Ant._ Bosola!—
[_Aside._] This mole does undermine me.—Heard you not
A noise even now?

_Bos._ From whence?

_Ant._ From the duchess’ lodging. 15

_Bos._ Not I: did you?

_Ant._ I did, or else I dream’d.

_Bos._ Let ’s walk towards it.

_Ant._ No: it may be ’t was
But the rising of the wind.

_Bos._ Very likely.
Me thinks ’t is very cold, and yet you sweat:
You look wildly.

_Ant._ I have been setting a figure[3697] 20
For the duchess’ jewels.

_Bos._ Ah, and how falls your question?
Do you find it radical?[3698]

_Ant._ What’s that to you?
’T is rather to be question’d what design,
When all men were commanded to their lodgings,
Makes you a night-walker.

_Bos._ In sooth, I ’ll tell you: 25
Now all the court’s asleep, I thought the devil
Had least to do here; I came to say my prayers;
And if it do offend you I do so,
You are a fine courtier.

_Ant._ [_Aside._] This fellow will undo me,—
You gave the duchess apricocks to-day: 30
Pray heaven they were not poison’d!

_Bos._ Poison’d! a Spanish fig
For the imputation!

_Ant._ Traitors are ever confident
Till they are discover’d. There were jewels stol’n too:
In my conceit, none are to be suspected 35
More than yourself.

_Bos._ You are a false steward.

_Ant._ Saucy slave, I ’ll pull thee up by the roots.

_Bos._ May be the ruin will crush you to pieces.

_Ant._ You are an impudent snake indeed, sir:
Are you scarce warm, and do you show your sting? 40
You libel[3699] well, sir?

_Bos._ No, sir: copy it out,
And I will set my hand to ’t.

_Ant._ [_Aside._] My nose bleeds.
One that were superstitious would count
This ominous, when it merely comes by chance.
Two letters, that are wrought here for my name,[3700] 45
Are drown’d in blood!
Mere accident.—For you, sir, I ’ll take order
I’ th’ morn you shall be safe.—[_Aside._] ’Tis that must colour
Her lying-in.—Sir, this door you pass not:
I do not hold it fit that you come near 50
The duchess’ lodgings, till you have quit yourself.—
[_Aside._] The great are like the base, nay, they are the same,
When they seek shameful ways to avoid shame. _Exit._

_Bos._ Antonio hereabout did drop a paper:—
Some of your help, false friend.[3701]—O, here it is.
What’s here? a child’s nativity calculated! [_Reads._] 56
_‛The duchess was deliver’d of a son, ’tween the hours twelve and
one in the night, Anno Dom. 1504._’—that’s this year—’_decimo
nono Decembris_,’—that’s this night—’_taken according (60) to the
meridian of Malfi_,’—that’s our duchess: happy discovery!—’_The
lord of the first house being combust in the ascendant signifies
short life; and Mars being in a human sign, joined to the tail of
the Dragon, in the eighth (65) house, doth threaten a violent death.
Caetera non scrutantur._’[3702]
Why, now ’t is most apparent; this precise fellow
Is the duchess’ bawd:—I have it to my wish!
This is a parcel of intelligency[3703] 70
Our courtiers were cas’d up for: it needs must follow
That I must be committed on pretence
Of poisoning her; which I ’ll endure, and laugh at.
If one could find the father now! but that
Time will discover. Old Castruccio 75
I’ th’ morning posts to Rome: by him I ’ll send
A letter that shall make her brothers’ galls
O’erflow their livers. This was a thrifty[3704] way!
Though Lust do mask in ne’er so strange disguise,
She ’s oft found witty, but is never wise. [_Exit_] 80

SCENE IV.[3705]

[_Enter_] CARDINAL _and_ JULIA.

_Card._ Sit: thou art my best of wishes. Prithee, tell me
What trick didst thou invent to come to Rome
Without thy husband?

_Julia._ Why, my lord, I told him
I came to visit an old anchorite[3706]
Here for devotion.

_Card._ Thou art a witty false one,— 5
I mean, to him.

_Julia._ You have prevail’d with me
Beyond my strongest thoughts; I would not now
Find you inconstant.

_Card._ Do not put thyself
To such a voluntary torture, which proceeds
Out of your own guilt.

_Julia._ How, my lord!

_Card._ You fear 10
My constancy, because you have approv’d[3707]
Those giddy and wild turnings in yourself.

_Julia._ Did you e’er find them?

_Card._ Sooth, generally for women,
A man might strive to make glass malleable,
Ere he should make them fixed.

_Julia._ So, my lord. 15

_Card._ We had need go borrow that fantastic glass
Invented by Galileo the Florentine
To view another spacious world i’ th’ moon,
And look to find a constant woman there.

_Julia._ This is very well, my lord.

_Card._ Why do you weep? 20
Are tears your justification? The self-same tears
Will fall into your husband’s bosom, lady,
With a loud protestation that you love him
Above the world. Come, I ’ll love you wisely,
That ’s jealously; since I am very certain 25
You cannot make me cuckold.

_Julia._ I ’ll go home
To my husband.

_Card._ You may thank me, lady,
I have taken you off your melancholy perch,
Bore you upon my fist, and show’d you game,
And let you fly at it.—I pray thee, kiss me.— 30
When thou wast with thy husband, thou wast watch’d
Like a tame elephant:—still you are to thank me:—
Thou hadst only kisses from him and high feeding:
But what delight was that? ’T was just like one
That hath a little fing’ring on the lute, 35
Yet cannot tune it:—still you are to thank me.

_Julia._ You told me of a piteous wound i’ th’ heart,
And a sick liver, when you woo’d me first,
And spake like one in physic.[3708]

_Card._ Who’s that?——
[_Enter_ Servant.]
Rest firm for my affection to thee, 40
Lightning moves slow to ’t.

_Serv._ Madam, a gentleman
That ’s comes post from Malfi, desires to see you.

_Card._ Let him enter: I ’ll withdraw. _Exit._

_Serv._ He says
Your husband, old Castruccio, is come to Rome,
Most pitifully tir’d with riding post. [_Exit._] 45

[_Enter_ DELIO.]

_Julia._ [_Aside._] Signior Delio! ’t is one of my old suitors.

_Delio._ I was bold to come and see you.

_Julia._ Sir, you are welcome.

_Delio._ Do you lie here?

_Julia._ Sure, your own experience
Will satisfy you no: our Roman prelates
Do not keep lodging for ladies.

_Delio._ Very well: 50
I have brought you no commendations from your husband,
For I know none by him.

_Julia._ I hear he ’s come to Rome.

_Delio._ I never knew man and beast, of a horse and a knight,
So weary of each other. If he had had a good back,
He would have undertook to have borne his horse, 55
His breech was so pitifully sore.

_Julia._ Your laughter
Is my pity.

_Delio._ Lady, I know not whether
You want money, but I have brought you some.

_Julia._ From my husband?

_Delio._ No, from mine own allowance. 60

_Julia._ I must hear the condition, ere I be bound to take it.

_Delio._ Look on ’t, ’t is gold; hath it not a fine colour?

_Julia._ I have a bird more beautiful.

_Delio._ Try the sound on ’t.

_Julia._ A lute-string far exceeds it.
It hath no smell, like cassia or civet; 65
Nor is it physical,[3709] though some fond doctors
Persuade us seethe ’t in cullises.[3710] I ’ll tell you,
This is a creature bred by——

[_Re-enter_ Servant.]

_Serv._ Your husband ’s come,
Hath deliver’d a letter to the Duke of Calabria
That, to my thinking, hath put him out of his wits. _Exit._ 70

_Julia._ Sir, you hear:
Pray, let me know your business and your suit
As briefly as can be.

_Delio._ With good speed: I would wish you,
At such time as you are non-resident 75
With your husband, my mistress.

_Julia._ Sir, I ’ll go ask my husband if I shall,
And straight return your answer. _Exit._

_Delio._ Very fine!
Is this her wit, or honesty, that speaks thus?
I heard one say the duke was highly mov’d 80
With a letter sent from Malfi. I do fear
Antonio is betray’d. How fearfully
Shows his ambition now! Unfortunate fortune!
They pass through whirl-pools, and deep woes do shun,
Who the event weigh ere the action ’s done. 85

SCENE V.[3711]

[_Enter_] CARDINAL _and_ FERDINAND _with a letter_.

_Ferd._ I have this night digg’d up a mandrake.[3712]

_Card._ Say you?

_Ferd._ And I am grown mad with ’t.

_Card._ What ’s the prodigy?

_Ferd._ Read there,—a sister damn’d: she ’s loose i’ th’ hilts;[3713]
Grown a notorious strumpet.

_Card._ Speak lower.

_Ferd._ Lower!
Rogues do not whisper ’t now, but seek to publish ’t 5
(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 10
Than towns of garrison for service.

_Card._ Is ’t possible?
Can this be certain?

_Ferd._ 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 15
To wipe it out.

_Card._ Why do you make yourself
So wild a tempest?

_Ferd._ 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 20
As she hath done her honours.

_Card._ Shall our blood,
The royal blood of Arragon and Castile,
Be thus attainted?

_Ferd._ Apply desperate physic:
We must not now use balsamum, but fire,
The smarting cupping-glass, for that ’s the mean 25
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 ’t is here,
I ’ll bequeath this to her bastard.

_Card._ What to do?

_Ferd._ Why, to make soft lint for his mother’s wounds, 30
When I have hew’d her to pieces.

_Card._ Curs’d creature!
Unequal nature, to place women’s hearts
So far upon the left side![3714]

_Ferd._ Foolish men,
That e’er will trust their honour in a bark
Made of so slight weak bulrush as is woman, 35
Apt every minute to sink it!

_Card._ Thus ignorance, when it hath purchas’d honour,
It cannot wield it.

_Ferd._ Methinks I see her laughing.—
Excellent hyena! Talk to me somewhat quickly,
Or my imagination will carry me 40
To see her in the shameful act of sin.

_Card._ With whom?

_Ferd._ Happily with some strong-thigh’d bargeman,
Or one o’ th’ wood-yard that can quoit the sledge[3715]
Or toss the bar, or else some lovely squire
That carries coals up to her privy lodgings. 45

_Card._ You fly beyond your reason.

_Ferd._ Go to, mistress!
’T is not your whore’s milk that shall quench my wild-fire,
But your whore’s blood.

_Card._ How idly shows this rage, which carries you,
As men convey’d by witches through the air, 50
On violent whirlwinds! This intemperate noise
Fitly resembles deaf men’s shrill discourse,
Who talk aloud, thinking all other men
To have their imperfection.

_Ferd._ Have not you
My palsy?

_Card._ Yes, [but] I can be angry 55
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, 60
By vexing of themselves. Come, put yourself
In tune.

_Ferd._ 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 65
By her.

_Card._ Are you stark mad?

_Ferd._ 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, 70
Wrap them in ’t, and then light them like a match;
Or else to-boil[3716] their bastard to a cullis,
And give ’t his lecherous father to renew
The sin of his back.

_Card._ I ’ll leave you.

_Ferd._ Nay, I have done.
I am confident, had I been damn’d in hell, 75
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 leaps my sister, I ’ll not stir:
That known, I ’ll find scorpions to string my whips.
And fix her in a general eclipse. _Exeunt._ 80