Act 1 — Scene IV.[2660]
Reading edition
Scene IV.[2660]
Enter Celso.
Celso. My honour’d lord,— Mal. Peace, speak low, peace! O Celso, constant lord, (Thou to whose faith I only rest discovered, Thou, one of full ten millions of men, That lovest virtue only for itself;5 Thou in whose hands old Ops[2661] may put her soul) Behold forever-banisht Altofront, This Genoa’s last year’s duke. O truly noble! I wanted those old instruments of state, Dissemblance and suspect: I could not time it, Celso;10 My throne stood like a point in midst of a circle, To all of equal nearness; bore with none; Rein’d all alike; so slept in fearless virtue, Suspectless, too suspectless; till the crowd, (Still likerous of[2662] untried novelties)15 Impatient with severer government, Made strong with Florence, banisht Altofront. Celso. Strong with Florence! ay, thence your mischief rose; For when the daughter of the Florentine Was match’d once with this Pietro, now duke, No stratagem of state untri’d was left,21 Till you of all— Mal. Of all was quite bereft: Alas, Maria too, close prisoned, My true faith’d duchess, i’ the citadel!24 Celso. I’ll still adhere: let’s mutiny and die. Mal. O, no, climb not a falling tower, Celso; ’T is well held desperation, no zeal, Hopeless to strive with fate. Peace! Temporize! Hope, hope, that never forsak’st the wretched’st man,29 Yet bidd’st me live, and lurk in this disguise! What, play I well the free-breath’d discontent? Why,[2663] man, we are all philosophical monarchs Or natural fools. Celso, the court’s a-fire; The duchess’ sheets will smoke for’t ere ’t be long: Impure Mendoza, that sharp-nos’d lord, that made35 The cursed match that linkt Genoa with Florence, Now broad-horns the duke, which he now knows. Discord to malcontents is very manna: When the ranks are burst, then scuffle, Altofront. Celso. Ay, but durst,—40 Mal. ’T is gone; ’t is swallowed like a mineral: Some say ’t will work; pheut, I’ll not shrink: He’s resolute who can no lower sink:
[[2664] Bilioso entering, Malevole shifteth his speech.
O the father of May-poles! did you never see a fellow whose strength consisted in his breath, 45 respect in his office, religion in his lord, and love in himself, why, then, behold!
Bil. Signior,—
Mal. My right worshipful lord, your court night-cap makes you have a passing high forehead. 51
Bil. I can tell you strange news, but I am sure you know them already: the duke speaks much good of you.
Mal. Go to, then: and shall you and I now enter into a strict friendship? 56
Bil. Second one another?
Mal. Yes.
Bil. Do one another good offices? 59
Mal. Just: what though I call’d thee old ox, egregious wittol, broken-bellied coward, rotten mummy? yet, since I am in favour—
Bil. Words of course, terms of disport. His grace presents you by me a chain, as his grateful remembrance for—I am ignorant for 65 what; marry, ye may impart: yet howsoever—come—dear friend; dost know my son?
Mal. Your son!
Bil. He shall eat wood-cocks, dance jigs, make possets, and play at shuttle-cock with 70 any young lord about the court: he has as sweet a lady, too; dost know her little bitch?
Mal. ’T is a dog, man.
Bil. Believe me, a she-bitch. O, ’t is a good creature! thou shalt be her servant. I’ll 75 make thee acquainted with my young wife too: what! I keep her not at court for nothing. ’T is grown to supper-time; come to my table: that, anything I have, stands open to thee.
Mal. (Aside to Celso.) How smooth to him that is in state of grace,80 How servile is the rugged’st courtier’s face! What profit, nay, what nature would keep down, Are heav’d to them are minions to a crown. Envious ambition never sates his thirst, Till, sucking all, he swells and swells, and bursts.85
Bil. I shall now leave you with my always-best wishes; only let’s hold betwixt us a firm correspondence, a mutual friendly-reciprocal kind of a steady-unanimous-heartily-leagued— 90
Mal. Did your signorship ne’er see a pigeon-house that was smooth, round, and white without, and full of holes and stink within? Ha’ ye not, old courtier? 94
Bil. O, yes, ’t is the form, the fashion of them all.
Mal. Adieu, my true court-friend; farewell, my dear Castilio.[2665]
Exit Bilioso.]
Celso. Yonder’s Mendoza.
Descries Mendoza.
Mal. True, the privy-key.99
Celso. I take my leave, sweet lord.
Mal. ’T is fit; away!
Exit Celso.