Act 5 — [Scene I.][4397]

1 Lord. Columbo’s death doth much afflict the king. 2 Lord. I thought the Cardinal would have lost his wits At first, for ’s nephew; it drowns all the talk Of the others that were slain. 1 Lord. We are friends. I do suspect Hernando had some interest,5 And knew how their wounds came. 2 Lord. His flight confirms it, For whom the Cardinal has spread his nets. 1 Lord. He is not so weak to trust himself at home To his enemy’s gripe. 2 Lord. All strikes not me so much As that the duchess, most oppressed lady,10 Should be distracted, and before Columbo Was slain. 1 Lord. But that the Cardinal should be made Her guardian, is to me above that wonder. 2 Lord. So it pleas’d the king; and she, with that small stock Of reason left her, is so kind and smooth15 Upon him. 1 Lord. She ’s turn’d a child again: a madness, That would ha’ made her brain and blood boil high, In which distemper she might ha’ wrought something— 2 Lord. Had been to purpose. 1 Lord. The Cardinal is cunning; and howe’er20 His brow does smile, he does suspect Hernando Took fire from her, and waits a time to punish it. 2 Lord. But what a subject of disgrace and mirth Hath poor Celinda made herself by pride, In her belief Columbo was her servant!25 Her head hath stoop’d much since he died, and she Almost ridiculous at court.

1 Lord. The Cardinal Is come into the garden, now— Car. Walk off.— [Exeunt Lords.] It troubles me the duchess by her loss Of brain, is now beneath my great revenge.30 She is not capable to feel my anger, Which, like to unregarded thunder spent In woods, and lightning aim’d at senseless trees, Must idly fall, and hurt her not, not to That sense her guilt deserves: a fatal stroke,35 Without the knowledge for what crime, to fright her When she takes leave, and make her tug with death, Until her soul sweat, is a pigeon’s torment, And she is sent a babe to the other world. Columbo’s death will not be satisfied,40 And I but wound her with a two-edg’d feather. I must do more: I have all opportunity, (She by the king now made my charge,) but she’s So much a turtle, I shall lose by killing her, Perhaps do her a pleasure and preferment;45 That must not be.

Anton. [stopping her.]—Is not this she, that would be thought to have been Columbo’s mistress?—Madam, his grace is private, And would not be disturb’d; you may displease him. Cel. What will your worship wager that he shall50 Be pleas’d again before we part? Anton. I’ll lay this diamond, madam, ’gainst a kiss, And trust yourself to keep the stakes. Cel. ’T is done. [Comes forward.] Anton. I have long had an appetite to this lady; But the lords keep her up so high—this toy55 May bring her on. Car. This interruption tastes not of good manners. Cel. But where necessity, my lord, compels, The boldness may meet pardon, and when you Have found my purpose, I may less appear60 Unmannerly. Car. To the business. Cel. It did please Your nephew, sir, before his death, to credit me With so much honourable favour, I Am come to tender to his near’st of blood, Yourself, what does remain a debt to him.65 Not to delay your grace with circumstance. That deed, if you accept, makes you my heir Of no contemptible estate.—[Aside.] This way He reads. Is only left to tie up scurrile tongues And saucy men, that since Columbo’s death70 Venture to libel on my pride and folly; His greatness and this gift, which I enjoy Still for my life, (beyond which term a kingdom’s Nothing,) will curb the giddy spleens of men That live on impudent rhyme, and railing at75 Each wandering fame they catch. Car. Madam, this bounty Will bind my gratitude, and care to serve you. Cel. I am your grace’s servant. Car. Antonelli!—Whisper. And when this noble lady visits me, Let her not wait.80 Cel. What think you, my officious sir? His grace Is pleas’d, you may conjecture: I may keep Your gem; the kiss was never yours. Anton. Sweet madam— Cel. Talk if you dare; you know I must not wait; And so, farewell for this time.85 [Exit.] Car. ’T is in my brain already, and it forms Apace—good, excellent revenge, and pleasant! She’s now within my talons: ’t is too cheap A satisfaction for Columbo’s death, Only to kill her by soft charm or force.90 I ’ll rifle first her darling chastity; ’T will be after time enough to poison her, And she to th’ world be thought her own destroyer. As I will frame the circumstance, this night All may be finished: for the colonel,95 Her agent in my nephew’s death, (whom I Disturb’d at counsel with her,) I may reach him Hereafter, and be master of his fate. We starve our conscience when we thrive in state. Exeunt.