Part 2 / Act 4 — SCENE II.
Reading edition
An apartment in the house of the Duchess.
Enter Duchess, Cardinal, Lords, and Celia.
Car. That which is merely call’d a will in woman,
I cannot always title it with a virtue.
Duch. O good sir, spare me!
Car. Spare yourself, good madam;
Extremest justice is not so severe
To great offenders, as your own forc’d strictness
To beauty, youth, and time; you’ll answer for’t.
Duch. Sir, settle your own peace; let me make mine.
Car. But here’s a heart must pity it, when it thinks on’t;
I find compassion, though the smart be yours.
First Lord. None here but does the like.
Sec. Lord. Believe it, madam,
You have much wrong’d your time.
First Lord. Nay, let your grace
But think upon the barrenness of succession.
Sec. Lord. Nay, more, a vow enforc’d.
Duch. What, do you all
Forsake me then, and take part with yon man?
616Not one friend have I left? do they all fight
Under th’ inglorious banner of his censure,[948]
Serve under his opinion?
Car. So will all, madam,
Whose judgments can but taste a rightful cause;
I look for more force yet; nay, your own women
Will shortly rise against you, when they know
The war to be so just and honourable
As marriage is; you cannot name that woman
Will not come ready arm’d for such a cause:
Can chastity be any whit impair’d
By that which makes it perfect? answer, madam;
Do you profess constancy, and yet live alone?
How can that hold? you’re constant then to none;
That’s a dead virtue; goodness must have practice,
Or else it ceases; then is woman said
To be love-chaste, knowing but one man’s bed;
A mighty virtue! beside, fruitfulness
Is part of the salvation of your sex;
And the true use of wedlock’s time and space
Is woman’s exercise for faith and grace.
Duch. O, what have you done, my lord!
Car. Laid the way plain
To knowledge of yourself and your creation;
Unbound a forcèd vow, that was but knit
By the strange jealousy of your dying lord,
Sinful i’ th’ fastening.
Duch. All the powers of constancy
Will curse you for this deed!
Car. You speak in pain, madam,
And so I take your words, like one in sickness
That rails at his best friend: I know a change
Of disposition has a violent working
In all of us; ’tis fit it should have time
617And counsel with itself: may you be fruitful, madam,
In all the blessings of an honour’d love!
First Lord. In all your wishes fortunate,—and I
The chief of 'em myself! [Aside.
Car. Peace be at your heart, lady!
First Lord. And love, say I. [Aside.
Car. We’ll leave good thoughts now to bring in themselves. [Exit with Lords.
Duch. O, there’s no art like a religious cunning,
It carries away all things smooth before it!
How subtlely has his wit dealt with the lords,
To fetch in their persuasions to a business
That stands in need of none, yields of itself,
As most we women do, when we seem farthest.
But little thinks the cardinal he’s requited
After the same proportion of deceit
As he sets down for others.
Enter Page.[949]
O, here’s the pretty boy he preferr’d to me;
I never saw a meeker, gentler youth,
Yet made for man’s beginning: how unfit
Was that poor fool to be Lactantio’s page!
He would have spoil’d him quite; in one year utterly;
There had been no hope of him.—Come hither, child;
I have forgot thy name.
Page. Antonio, madam.
Duch. Antonio? so thou toldst me. I must chide thee;
Why didst thou weep when thou cam’st first to serve me?
618Page. At the distrust of mine own merits, madam,
Knowing I was not born to those deserts
To please so great a mistress.
Duch. 'Las, poor boy,
That’s nothing in thee but thy modest fear,
Which makes amends faster than thou canst err.—
It shall be my care to have him well brought up
As a youth apt for good things.—Celia.
Celia. Madam?
Duch. Has he bestow’d his hour to-day for music?
Celia. Yes, he has, madam.
Duch. How do you find his voice?
Celia. A pretty, womanish, faint, sprawling[950] voice, madam,
But 'twill grow strong in time, if he take care
To keep it when he has it from fond[951] exercises.
Duch. Give order too the dancing-schoolmaster
Observe an hour with him.
Celia. It shall be done, lady:
He is well made for dancing; thick i’ th’ chest, madam;
He will turn long and strongly.
Duch. He shall not be behind a quality
That aptness in him or our cost can purchase;
And see he lose no time.
Celia. I’ll take that order, madam.
Page. Singing and dancing! 'las, my case is worse!
I rather need a midwife and a nurse.
[Aside, and exit with Celia.
Duch. Lactantio, my procurer, not return’d yet?
His malice I have fitted with an office
619Which he takes pleasure to discharge with rigour.
He comes, and with him my heart’s conqueror;
My pleasing thraldom’s near.
Enter Lactantio with Andrugio and Guard.
And. Not know the cause?
Lac. Yes, you shall soon do that now, to the ruin
Of your neck-part, or some nine years’ imprisonment;
You meet with mercy, and[952] you ’scape with that;
Beside your lands all begg’d and seiz’d upon;
That’s admirable favour. Here’s the duchess.
Duch. O sir, you’re welcome!
Lac. Marry, bless me still
From such a welcome!
Duch. You are hard to come by,
It seems, sir, by the guilt of your long stay.
And. My guilt, good madam?
Duch. Sure y’had much ado
To take him, had you not? speak truth, Lactantio,
And leave all favour; were you not in danger?
Lac. Faith, something near it, madam: he grew headstrong,
Furious and fierce; but ’tis not my condition[953]
To speak the worst things of mine enemy, madam,
Therein I hold mine honour: but had fury
Burst into all the violent storms that ever
Play’d over anger in tempestuous man,
I would have brought him to your grace’s presence,
Dead or alive.
Duch. You would not, sir?
And. What pride
620If any way, uncounsell’d of my judgment,
My ignorance has stept into some error,
Which I could heartily curse, and so brought on me
Your great displeasure, let me feel my sin
In the full weight of justice, virtuous madam,
And let it wake me throughly: but, chaste lady,
Out of the bounty of your grace, permit not
This perfum’d parcel of curl’d powder’d hair
To cast me in the poor relish of his censure.[956]
Duch. It shall not need, good sir; we are ourself
Of power sufficient to judge you; ne’er doubt it, sir.
Withdraw, Lactantio; carefully place your guard
I’ the next room.
Lac. You will but fare the worse;
You see your niceness[957] spoils you; you’ll go nigh now
To feel your sin indeed.
[Exit Lactantio with Guard.
And. Hell-mouth be with thee!
Was ever malice seen yet to gape wider
For man’s misfortunes?
Duch. First, sir, I should think
You could not be so impudent to deny
What your own knowledge proves to you.
And. That were a sin, madam,
More gross than flattery spent upon a villain.
Duch. Your own confession dooms you, sir.
And. Why, madam?
Duch. Do not you know I made a serious vow
At my lord’s death, never to marry more?
And. That’s a truth, madam, I’m a witness to.
Duch. Is’t so, sir? you’ll be taken presently.
621This man needs no accuser. Knowing so much,
How durst you then attempt so bold a business
As to solicit me, so strictly settled,
With tempting letters and loose lines of love?
And. Who? I do’t, madam?
Duch. Sure the man will shortly
Deny he lives, although he walks and breath[es.]
And. Better destruction snatch me quick from sight
Of human eyes, than I should sin so boldly!
Duch. 'Twas well I kept it then from rage or fire,
For my truth’s credit. Look you, sir; read out;
You know the hand and name. [Gives letter.
And. [reads] Andrugio!
Duch. And if such things be fit, the world shall judge.
And. Madam——
Duch. Pish, that’s not so; it begins otherwise;
Pray, look again, sir; how you’d slight your knowledge!
And. By all the reputation I late won——
Duch. Nay, and[958] you dare not read, sir, I am gone.
And. Read? [reads] Most fair duchess.
Duch. O, have you found it now?
There’s a sweet flattering phrase for a beginning!
You thought belike that would overcome me.
And. I, madam?
Duch. Nay, on, sir; you are slothful.
And. [reads] The report of your vow shall not fear me——
Duch. No? are you so resolute? ’tis well for you, sir.
And. [reads] I know you’re but a woman——
622Duch. Well, what then, sir?
And. [reads] And what a woman is, a wise man knows.
Duch. Let him know what he can, he’s glad to get us.
And. [reads] Perhaps my condition[959] may seem blunt to you——
Duch. Well, we find no fault with your bluntness.
And. [reads] But no man’s love can be more sharp set——
Duch. Ay, there’s good stuff now!
And. [reads] And I know desires in both sexes have skill at that weapon.
Duch. Weapon?
You begin like a flatterer, and end like a fencer.
Are these fit lines now to be sent to us?
And. Now, by the honour of a man, his truth, madam,
My name’s abus’d!
Duch. Fie, fie, deny your hand?
I will not deny mine; here, take it freely, sir,
And with it my true constant heart for ever:
I never disgrac’d man that sought my favour.
And. What mean you, madam?
Duch. To requite you, sir;
By courtesy I hold my reputation,
And you shall taste it. Sir, in as plain truth
As the old time walk’d in, when love was simple
And knew no art nor guile, I affect you;
My heart has made her choice; I love you, sir,
Above my vow: the frown that met you first
Wore not the livery of anger, sir,
But of deep policy; I made your enemy
623The instrument for all; there you may praise me,
And ’twill not be ill given.
And. Here’s a strange language!
The constancy of love bless me from learning on’t,
Although ambition would soon teach it others!
[Aside.
Madam, the service of whole life is yours;
But——
Duch. Enough! thou’rt mine for ever.—Within, there!
Re-enter Lactantio with Guard.
Lac. Madam?
Duch. Lay hands upon him; bear him hence;
See he be kept close prisoner in our palace.—
The time’s not yet ripe for our nuptial solace. [Aside, and exit.
Lac. This you could clear yourself!
And. There’s a voice that wearies me
More than mine own distractions.
Lac. You are innocent!
And. I’ve not a time idle enough from passion[960]
To give this devil an answer. O, she’s lost!
Curs’d be that love by which a better’s crost!
There my heart’s settl’d. [Aside.
Lac. How is he disgrac’d,
And I advanc’d in love! faith, he that can
Wish more to his enemy is a spiteful man,
And worthy to be punish’d. [Exeunt.
624