The Duchess of Malfi | Page 7

ere they arrive at twenty years, Ay, and give the devil suck.
DUCHESS. This is terrible good counsel.
FERDINAND. Hypocrisy is woven of a fine small thread, Subtler than Vulcan's engine:<20> yet, believe 't, Your darkest actions, nay, your privat'st thoughts, Will come to light.
CARDINAL. You may flatter yourself, And take your own choice; privately be married Under the eaves of night----
FERDINAND. Think 't the best voyage That e'er you made; like the irregular crab, Which, though 't goes backward, thinks that it goes right Because it goes its own way: but observe, Such weddings may more properly be said To be executed than celebrated.
CARDINAL. The marriage night Is the entrance into some prison.
FERDINAND. And those joys, Those lustful pleasures, are like heavy sleeps Which do fore-run man's mischief.
CARDINAL. Fare you well. Wisdom begins at the end: remember it. [Exit.]
DUCHESS. I think this speech between you both was studied, It came so roundly off.
FERDINAND. You are my sister; This was my father's poniard, do you see? I 'd be loth to see 't look rusty, 'cause 'twas his. I would have you give o'er these chargeable revels: A visor and a mask are whispering-rooms That were never built for goodness,--fare ye well-- And women like variety of courtship. What cannot a neat knave with a smooth tale Make a woman believe? Farewell, lusty widow. [Exit.]
DUCHESS. Shall this move me? If all my royal kindred Lay in my way unto this marriage, I 'd make them my low footsteps. And even now, Even in this hate, as men in some great battles, By apprehending danger, have achiev'd Almost impossible actions (I have heard soldiers say so), So I through frights and threatenings will assay This dangerous venture. Let old wives report I wink'd and chose a husband.--Cariola, To thy known secrecy I have given up More than my life,--my fame.
CARIOLA. Both shall be safe; For I 'll conceal this secret from the world As warily as those that trade in poison Keep poison from their children.
DUCHESS. Thy protestation Is ingenious and hearty; I believe it. Is Antonio come?
CARIOLA. He attends you.
DUCHESS. Good dear soul, Leave me; but place thyself behind the arras, Where thou mayst overhear us. Wish me good speed; For I am going into a wilderness, Where I shall find nor path nor friendly clue To be my guide. [Cariola goes behind the arras.] [Enter ANTONIO] I sent for you: sit down; Take pen and ink, and write: are you ready?
ANTONIO. Yes.
DUCHESS. What did I say?
ANTONIO. That I should write somewhat.
DUCHESS. O, I remember. After these triumphs and this large expense It 's fit, like thrifty husbands,<21> we inquire What 's laid up for to-morrow.
ANTONIO. So please your beauteous excellence.
DUCHESS. Beauteous! Indeed, I thank you. I look young for your sake; You have ta'en my cares upon you.
ANTONIO. I 'll fetch your grace The particulars of your revenue and expense.
DUCHESS. O, you are An upright treasurer: but you mistook; For when I said I meant to make inquiry What 's laid up for to-morrow, I did mean What 's laid up yonder for me.
ANTONIO. Where?
DUCHESS. In heaven. I am making my will (as 'tis fit princes should, In perfect memory), and, I pray, sir, tell me, Were not one better make it smiling, thus, Than in deep groans and terrible ghastly looks, As if the gifts we parted with procur'd<22> That violent distraction?
ANTONIO. O, much better.
DUCHESS. If I had a husband now, this care were quit: But I intend to make you overseer. What good deed shall we first remember? Say.
ANTONIO. Begin with that first good deed began i' the world After man's creation, the sacrament of marriage; I 'd have you first provide for a good husband; Give him all.
DUCHESS. All!
ANTONIO. Yes, your excellent self.
DUCHESS. In a winding-sheet?
ANTONIO. In a couple.
DUCHESS. Saint Winifred, that were a strange will!
ANTONIO. 'Twere stranger<23> if there were no will in you To marry again.
DUCHESS. What do you think of marriage?
ANTONIO. I take 't, as those that deny purgatory, It locally contains or heaven or hell; There 's no third place in 't.
DUCHESS. How do you affect it?
ANTONIO. My banishment, feeding my melancholy, Would often reason thus.
DUCHESS. Pray, let 's hear it.
ANTONIO. Say a man never marry, nor have children, What takes that from him? Only the bare name Of being a father, or the weak delight To see the little wanton ride a-cock-horse Upon a painted stick, or hear him chatter Like a taught starling.
DUCHESS. Fie, fie, what 's all this? One of your eyes is blood-shot; use my ring to 't. They say 'tis very sovereign. 'Twas my wedding-ring, And I did vow never to part with it But to my second husband.
ANTONIO. You have parted with it now.
DUCHESS. Yes, to help your eye-sight.
ANTONIO. You have made me stark blind.
DUCHESS. How?
ANTONIO. There is