Part 1 / Act 4 — SCENE IV.

Grounds near the Duke’s Palace.

Enter Duke, Benedict, Fluello, Castruchio, and Pioratto.

Duke. Give us a little leave.—

[Exeunt Fluello, Castruchio, and Pioratto.

Doctor, your news.

92Ben. I sent for him, my lord: at last he came,

And did receive all speech that went from me

As gilded pills made to prolong his health:

My credit with him wrought it; for some men

Swallow even empty hooks, like fools that fear

No drowning where ’tis deepest, 'cause ’tis clear.

In th’ end we sat and eat: a health I drank

To Infelice’s sweet departed soul;

This train I knew would take.

Duke. 'Twas excellent.

Ben. He fell with such devotion on his knees,

To pledge the same——

Duke. Fond, superstitious fool!

Ben. That had he been inflam’d with zeal of prayer

He could not pour’t out with more reverence.

About my neck he hung, wept on my cheek,

Kiss’d it, and swore he would adore my lips,

Because they brought forth Infelice’s name.

Duke. Ha, ha! alack, alack!

Ben. The cup he lifts up high, and thus he said,

Here, noble maid!—drinks, and was poisoned.

Duke. And died?

Ben. And died, my lord.

Duke. Thou in that word

Hast piec’d mine aged hours out with more years

Than thou hast taken from Hippolito.

A noble youth he was; but lesser branches,

Hindering the greater’s growth, must be lopt off,

And feed the fire. Doctor, we’re now all thine,

And use us so; be bold.

Ben. Thanks, gracious lord!—

My honour’d lord——

Duke. Hum.

Ben. I do beseech your grace to bury deep

This bloody act of mine.

93Duke. Nay, nay, for that,

Doctor, look you to’t, me it shall not move;

They’re curs’d that ill do, not that ill do love.

Ben. You throw an angry forehead on my face;

But be you pleas’d backward thus far^[194] to look,

That for your good this evil I undertook——

Duke. Ay, ay, we conster^[195] so.

Ben. And only for your love.

Duke. Confess’d; ’tis true.

Ben. Nor let it stand against me as a bar,

To thrust me from your presence; nor believe,

As princes have quick thoughts, that now my finger

Being dipt in blood, I will not spare the hand,

But that for gold—as what can gold not do?—

I may be hir’d to work the like on you.

Duke. Which to prevent——

Ben. ’Tis from my heart as far——

Duke. No matter, doctor: 'cause I’ll fearless sleep,

And that you shall stand clear of that suspicion,

I banish thee for ever from my court.

This principle is old, but true as fate,

Kings may love treason, but the traitor hate. [Exit.

Ben. Is’t so? Nay, then, duke, your stale principle

With one as stale the doctor thus shall quit,—

He falls himself that digs another’s pit.—

Enter Servant.

How now? where is he? will he meet me?

Ser. Meet you, sir? he might have met with three fencers in this time, and have received less hurt than by meeting one doctor of physic. Why, sir, has walked under the old Abbey-wall yonder 94this hour, till he’s more cold than a citizen’s country-house in Janivere.^[196] You may smell him behind, sir: la, you, yonder he comes.

Ben. Leave me.

Ser. I’ th’ lurch, if you will. [Exit.

Enter Hippolito.

Ben. O my most noble friend!

Hip. Few but yourself

Could have entic’d me thus to trust the air

With my close sighs. You sent^[197] for me; what news?

Ben. Come, you must doff this black; dye that pale cheek

Into his own colour; go, attire yourself

Fresh as a bridegroom when he meets his bride.

The duke has done much treason to thy love;

’Tis now revealed, ’tis now to be reveng’d:

Be merry, honour’d friend! thy lady lives.

Hip. What lady?

Ben. Infelice; she’s reviv’d:

Reviv’d? alack, death never had the heart

To take breath from her!

Hip. Umh, I thank you, sir:

Physic prolongs life when it cannot save;

This helps not my hopes, mine are in their grave:

You do some wrong to mock me.

Ben. By that love

Which I have ever borne you, what I speak

Is truth; the maiden lives: that funeral,

Duke’s tears, the mourning, was all counterfeit;

A sleepy draught cozen’d the world and you:

I was his minister; and then chamber’d up,

To stop discovery.

Hip. O treacherous duke!

95Ben. He cannot hope so certainly for bliss

As he believes that I have poison’d you.

He woo’d me to’t; I yielded, and confirm’d him

In his most bloody thoughts.

Hip. A very devil!

Ben. Her did he closely coach to Bergamo;

And thither——

Hip. Will I ride: stood Bergamo

In the low countries of black hell, I’ll to her.

Ben. You shall to her, but not to Bergamo.

How passion makes you fly beyond yourself!

Much of that weary journey I ha’ cut off;

For she by letters hath intelligence

Of your supposed death, her own interment,

And all those plots which that false duke her father

Has wrought against you; and she’ll meet you—

Hip. O, when?

Ben. Nay, see, how covetous are your desires!

Early to-morrow morn.

Hip. O where, good father?

Ben. At Bethlem Monastery. Are you pleas’d now?

Hip. At Bethlem Monastery? the place well fits;

It is the school where those that lose their wits

Practise again to get them. I am sick

Of that disease; all love is lunatic.

Ben. We’ll steal away this night in some disguise.

Father Anselmo, a most reverend friar,

Expects our coming; before whom we’ll lay

Reasons so strong, that he shall yield in bands^[198]

Of holy wedlock to tie both your hands.

Hip. This is such happiness,

That to believe it, ’tis impossible.

Ben. Let all your joys then die in misbelief;

I will reveal no more.

96Hip. O yes, good father!

I am so well acquainted with despair,

I know not how to hope; I believe all.

Ben. We’ll hence this night: much must be done, much said;

But if the doctor fail not in his charms,

Your lady shall ere morning fill these arms.

Hip. Heavenly physician! far thy fame shall spread,

That mak’st two lovers speak when they be dead. [Exeunt.