Part 2 / Act 2 — ACT II. SCENE I.

An Apartment in the House of the Duchess.

Enter Duchess and Celia.

Duch. Seek out the lightest colours can be got,

The youthfull’st dressings; tawny is too sad,

I am not thirty yet; I’ve wrong’d my time

To go so long in black, like a petitioner:

See that the powder that I use about me

Be rich in cassia.

Celia. Here’s a sudden change! [Aside.

Duch. O, I’m undone in faith! Stay, art thou certain

Lactantio, nephew to the cardinal, was present

In the late entertainment of the general?

576Celia. Upon my reputation with your excellence,

These eyes beheld him: he came foremost, madam;

'Twas he in black and yellow.

Duch. Nay, ’tis no matter, either for himself

Or for the affectation of his colours,

So you be sure he was there.

Celia. As sure as sight

Can discern man from man, madam.

Duch. It suffices. [Exit Celia.

O, an ill cause had need of many helps,

Much art, and many friends, ay, and those mighty,

Or else it sets in shame! A faith once lost

Requires great cunning ere’t be entertain’d

Into the breast of a belief again;

There’s no condition so unfortunate,

Poor, miserable, to any creature given,

As hers that breaks in vow; she breaks with heaven.

Enter Cardinal.

Car. Increase of health and a redoubled courage

To chastity’s great soldier! what, so sad, madam?—

The memory of her seven-years-deceas’d lord

Springs yet into her eyes as fresh and full

As at the seventh hour after his departure:

What a perpetual fountain is her virtue!— [Aside.

Too much t’ afflict yourself with ancient sorrow

Is not so strictly for your strength requir’d;

Your vow is charge enough, believe me ’tis, madam,

You need no weightier task.

Duch. Religious sir,

You heard the last words of my dying lord.

Car. Which I shall ne’er forget.

Duch. May I entreat

Your goodness but to speak 'em over to me,

As near as memory can befriend your utterance,

577That I may think awhile I stand in presence

Of my departing husband.

Car. What’s your meaning

In this, most virtuous madam?

Duch. ’Tis a courtesy

I stand in need of, sir, at this time specially;

Urge it no further yet; as it proves to me,

You shall hear from me; only I desire it

Effectually from you, sir, that’s my request.

Car. I wonder, yet I’ll spare to question farther.—

[Aside.

You shall have your desire.

Duch. I thank you, sir;

A blessing come along with’t!

Car. You see, my lords, what all earth’s glory is,

Rightly defin’d in me, uncertain breath;

A dream of threescore years to the long sleeper,

To most not half the time: beware ambition;

Heaven is not reach’d with pride, but with submission.

And you, lord cardinal, labour to perfect

Good purposes begun; be what you seem,

Stedfast and uncorrupt; your actions noble,

Your goodness simple, without gain^[891] or art,

And not in vesture holier than in heart.

But ’tis a pain, more than the pangs of death,

To think that we must part, fellow^[892] of life,

Thou richness of my joys, kind and dear princess;

Death had no sting but for our separation;

It would come more calm than an evening’s peace

That brings on rest to labours: thou’rt so precious,

I should depart in everlasting envy

Unto the man that ever should enjoy thee:

O, a new torment strikes his force into me

578When I but think on’t! I am rack’d and torn;

Pity me in thy virtues.

Duch. My lov’d lord,

Let you[r]confirm’d opinion of my life,

My love, my faithful love, seal an assurance

Of quiet to your spirit, that no forgetfulness

Can cast a sleep so deadly on my senses,

To draw my affections to a second liking.

Car. 'T has ever been the^[893] promise, and the spring

Of my great love to thee. For once to marry

Is honourable in woman, and her ignorance

Stands for a virtue, coming new and fresh;

But second marriage shews desires in flesh;

Thence lust, and heat, and common custom grows;

But she’s part virgin who but one man knows.

I here expect a work of thy great faith

At my last parting; I can crave no more,

And with thy vow I rest myself for ever;

My soul and it shall fly to heaven together:

Seal to my spirit that quiet satisfaction,

And I go hence in peace.

Duch. Then here I vow never——

Car. Why, madam!

Duch. I can go no further.

Car. What,

Have you forgot your vow?

Duch. I have, too certainly.

Car. Your vow? that cannot be; it follows now

Just where I left.

Duch. My frailty gets before it;

Nothing prevails but ill.

Car. What ail you, madam?

Duch. Sir, I’m in love.

Car. O, all you powers of chastity,

579Look to this woman! let her not faint now,

For honour of yourselves! If she be lost,

I know not where to seek my hope in woman.

Madam, O madam!

Duch. My desires are sicken’d

Beyond recovery of good counsel, sir.

Car. What mischief ow’d a malice to the sex,

To work this spiteful ill! better the man

Had never known creation, than to live

th’ unlucky ruin of so fair a temple.

Yet think upon your vow, revive in faith;

Those are eternal things: what are all pleasures,

Flatteries of men, and follies upon earth,

To your most excellent goodness? O she’s dead,

Stark cold to any virtuous claim within her!

What now is heat is sin’s. Have I approv’d

Your constancy for this, call’d your faith noble,

Writ volumes of your victories and virtues?

I have undone my judgment, lost my praises,

Blemish’d the truth of my opinion.

Give me the man, that I may pour him out

To all contempt and curses.

Duch. The man’s innocent,

Full of desert and grace; his name Lactantio.

Car. How?

Duch. Your nephew.

Car. My nephew?

Duch. Beshrew the sight of him! he lives not, sir,

That could have conquer’d me, himself excepted.

Car. He that I lov’d so dearly, does he wear

Such killing poison in his eye to sanctity?

He has undone himself for ever by’t;

Has lost a friend of me, and a more sure one.

Farewell all natural pity! though my affection

Could hardly spare him from my sight an hour,

I’ll lose him now eternally, and strive

To live without him; he shall straight to Rome.

580Duch. Not if you love my health or life, my lord.

Car. This day he shall set forth.

Duch. Despatch me rather.

Car. I’ll send him far enough.

Duch. Send me to death first.

Car. No basilisk, that strikes dead pure affection

With venomous eye, lives under my protection. [Exit.

Duch. Now my condition’s worse than e’er ’twas yet;

My cunning takes not with him; has broke through

The net that with all art was set for him,

And left the snarer here herself entangled

With her own toils. O, what are we poor souls,

When our dissembling fails us? surely creatures

As full of want as any nation can be,

That scarce have food to keep bare life about 'em.

Had this but took effect, what a fair way

Had I made for my love to th’ general,

And cut off all suspect, all reprehension!

My hopes are kill’d i’ th’ blossom. [Exit.