Re-enter Servants.
First Ser. My lord?
Car. Take up those lights; there was a thicker darkness
When they came first.—The peace of a fair soul
Keep with my noble brother!
Duke. Joys be with you, sir!
[Exeunt Cardinal and Servants.
She lies alone to-night for’t, and must still,
Though it be hard to conquer; but I've vow’d
Never to know her as a strumpet more,
And I must save my oath: if fury fail not,
Her husband dies to-night, or, at the most,
Lives not to see the morning spent to-morrow;
Then will I make her lawfully mine own,
Without this sin and horror. Now I'm chidden,
For what I shall enjoy then unforbidden;
And I'll not freeze in stoves: ’tis but a while;
Live like a hopeful bridegroom, chaste from flesh,
And pleasure then will seem new, fair, and fresh.
[Exit.

SCENE II.

A hall in Livia’s house.
Enter Hippolito.
Hip. The morning so far wasted, yet his baseness
So impudent! see if the very sun
Do not blush at him!
Dare he do thus much, and know me alive?
Put case one must be vicious, as I know myself
Monstrously guilty, there’s a blind time made for’t,
He might use only that,—'twere conscionable;
Art, silence, closeness, subtlety, and darkness,
Are fit for such a business; but there’s no pity
To be bestow’d on an apparent sinner,
An impudent daylight lecher. The great zeal
I bear to her advancement in this match
With lord Vincentio, as the Duke has wrought it,
To the perpetual honour of our house,
Puts fire into my blood to purge the air
Of this corruption, fear it spread too far,
And poison the whole hopes of this fair fortune.
I love her good so dearly, that no brother
Shall venture farther for a sister’s glory
Than I for her preferment.
Enter Leantio and a Page.
Lean. Once again
I'll see that glistering whore, shines like a serpent
Now the court sun’s upon her. [Aside.]—Page.
Page. Anon, sir.
Lean. I'll go in state too. [Aside.]—See the coach be ready;
[Exit Page.
I'll hurry away presently.
Hip. Yes, you shall hurry,
And the devil after you: take that at setting forth: [Strikes him.
Now, and[1098] you’ll draw, we’re upon equal terms, sir.
Thou took’st advantage of my name in honour
Upon my sister; I ne’er saw the stroke
Come, till I found my reputation bleeding;
And therefore count it I no sin to valour
To serve thy lust so: now we’re of even hand,
Take your best course against me. You must die.
Lean. How close sticks envy to man’s happiness!
When I was poor, and little car’d for life,
I had no such means offer’d me to die,
No man’s wrath minded me.—Slave, I turn this to thee, [Draws.
To call thee to account for a wound lately
Of a base stamp upon me.
Hip. ’Twas most fit
For a base metal: come and fetch one now
More noble then, for I will use thee fairer
Than thou hast done thine [own] soul, or our honour; [They fight.
And there I think ’tis for thee. [Leantio falls.
[Voices within] Help, help! O, part ’em!
Lean. False wife, I feel now thou’st pray’d heartily for me:
Rise, strumpet, by my fall! thy lust may reign now:
My heart-string, and the marriage-knot that tied thee,
Break[1099] both together. [Dies.
Hip. There I heard the sound on’t,
And never lik’d string better.
Enter Guardiano, Livia, Isabella, the Ward, and Sordido.
Liv. ’Tis my brother!
Are you hurt, sir?
Hip. Not any thing.
Liv. Blest fortune!
Shift for thyself: what is he thou hast kill’d?
Hip. Our honour’s enemy.
Guar. Know you this man, lady?
Liv. Leantio! my love’s joy!—Wounds stick upon thee
As deadly as thy sins! art thou not hurt—
The devil take that fortune!—and he dead?
Drop plagues into thy bowels without voice,
Secret and fearful!—Run for officers;
Let him be apprehended with all speed,
For fear he ’scape away; lay hands on him,
We cannot be too sure, ’tis wilful murder:[1100]
You do heaven’s vengeance and the law just service:
You know him not as I do; he’s a villain
As monstrous as a prodigy and as dreadful.
Hip. Will you but entertain a noble patience
Till you but hear the reason, worthy sister?
Liv. The reason! that’s a jest hell falls a-laughing at:
Is there a reason found for the destruction
Of our more lawful loves, and was there none
To kill the black lust ’twixt thy niece and thee,
That has kept close so long?
Guar. How’s that, good madam?
Liv. Too true, sir; there she stands, let her deny’t:
The deed cries shortly in the midwife’s arms,
Unless the parents' sins strike it still-born;
And if you be not deaf and ignorant,
You’ll hear strange notes ere long.—Look upon me, wench;
’Twas I betray’d thy honour subtlely to him,
Under a false tale; it lights upon me now.—
His arm has paid me home upon thy breast,
My sweet, belov’d Leantio!
Guar. Was my judgment
And care in choice so devilishly abus’d,
So beyond shamefully? all the world will grin at me.
Ward. O Sordido, Sordido, I'm damn’d, I'm damn’d!
Sor. Damn’d? why, sir?

Ward. One of the wicked; dost not see’t? a cuckold, a plain reprobate cuckold!

Sor. Nay, and[1101] you be damned for that, be of good cheer, sir, you’ve gallant company of all professions; I'll have a wife next Sunday too, because I'll along with you myself.

Ward. That will be some comfort yet.

Liv. You, sir, that bear your load of injuries,
As I of sorrows, lend me your griev’d strength
To this sad burden [pointing to the body of Leantio], who in life wore actions,
Flames were not nimbler: we will talk of things
May have the luck to break our hearts together.
Guar. I'll list to nothing but revenge and anger,
Whose counsels I will follow.
[Exeunt. Livia and Guardiano
with the body of Leantio.
Sor. A wife, quoth ’a?
Here’s a sweet plum-tree of your guardianer’s graffing!

Ward. Nay, there’s a worse name belongs to this fruit yet, and[1101] you could hit on’t, a more open one; for he that marries a whore looks like a fellow bound all his lifetime to a medlar-tree, and that’s good stuff; ’tis no sooner ripe, but it looks rotten, and so do some queans at nineteen. A pox on’t! I thought there was some knavery a-broach, for something stirred in her belly the first night I lay with her.

Sor. What, what, sir?

Ward. This is she brought up so courtly, can sing, and dance!—and tumble too, methinks: I'll never marry wife again that has so many qualities.

Sor. Indeed, they are seldom good, master; for likely when they are taught so many, they will have one trick more of their own finding out. Well, give me a wench but with one good quality, to lie with none but her husband, and that’s bringing up enough for any woman breathing.

Ward. This was the fault when she was tendered to me; you never looked to this.

Sor. Alas, how would you have me see through a great farthingale, sir? I cannot peep through a mill-stone, or in the going, to see what’s done i' the bottom.

Ward. Her father praised her breast;[1102] sh’ad the voice, forsooth! I marvelled she sung so small indeed, being no maid: now I perceive there’s a young quirister in her belly, this breeds a singing in my head, I'm sure.

Sor. ’Tis but the tune of your wife’s sinquapace[1103] danced in a feather-bed: faith, go lie down, master; but take heed your horns do not make holes in the pillowbeers.[1104]—I would not batter brows with him for a hogshead of angels;[1105] he would prick my skull as full of holes as a scrivener’s sand-box.

[Aside.—Exeunt Ward and Sordido.
Isa. Was ever maid so cruelly beguil’d,
To the confusion of life, soul, and honour,
All of one woman’s murdering! I'd fain bring
Her name no nearer to my blood than woman,
And ’tis too much of that. O, shame and horror!
In that small distance from yon man to me
Lies sin enough to make a whole world perish.— [Aside.
’Tis time we parted, sir, and left the sight
Of one another; nothing can be worse
To hurt repentance, for our very eyes
Are far more poisonous to religion
Than basilisks to them: if any goodness
Rest in you, hope of comforts, fear of judgments,
My request is, I ne’er may see you more;
And so I turn me from you everlastingly,
So is my hope to miss you: but for her
That durst so dally with a sin so dangerous,
And lay a snare so spitefully for my youth,
If the least means but favour my revenge,
That I may practise the like cruel cunning
Upon her life as she has on mine honour,
I'll act it without pity.
Hip. Here’s a care
Of reputation and a sister’s fortune
Sweetly rewarded by her! would a silence,
As great as that which keeps among the graves,
Had everlastingly chain’d up her tongue!
My love to her has made mine miserable.
Re-enter Guardiano and Livia.
Guar. If you can but dissemble your heart’s griefs now,—
Be but a woman so far.
Liv. Peace; I'll strive, sir.
Guar. As I can wear my injuries in a smile:
Here’s an occasion offer’d, that gives anger
Both liberty and safety to perform
Things worth the fire it holds, without the fear
Of danger or of law; for mischiefs acted
Under the privilege of a marriage-triumph,
At the Duke’s hasty nuptials, will be thought
Things merely accidental, all’s[1106] by chance,
Not got of their own natures.
Liv. I conceive you, sir,
Even to a longing for performance on’t;
And here behold some fruits.—[Kneels to Hippolito and Isabella.] Forgive me both:
What I am now, return’d to sense and judgment,
Is not the same rage and distraction
Presented lately to you,—that rude form
Is gone for ever; I am now myself,
That speaks all peace and friendship, and these tears
Are the true springs of hearty, penitent sorrow
For those foul wrongs which my forgetful fury
Slander’d your virtues with: this gentleman
Is well resolv’d[1107] now.
Guar. I was never otherwise;
I knew, alas, ’twas but your anger spake it,
And I ne’er thought on’t more.
Hip. [raising Livia] Pray, rise, good sister.
Isa. Here’s even as sweet amends made for a wrong now,
As one that gives a wound, and pays the surgeon;
All the smart’s nothing, the great loss of blood,
Or time of hindrance: well, I had a mother,
I can dissemble too. [Aside.]—What wrongs have slipt
Through anger’s ignorance, aunt, my heart forgives.
Guar. Why, thus[1108] tuneful now!
Hip. And what I did, sister,
Was all for honour’s cause, which time to come
Will approve to you.
Liv. Being awak’d to goodness,
I understand so much, sir, and praise now
The fortune of your arm and of your safety;
For by his death you’ve rid me of a sin
As costly as e’er woman doated on:
'T has pleas’d the Duke so well too, that, behold, sir,
[Giving paper.
Has sent you here your pardon, which I kiss’d
With most affectionate comfort: when ’twas brought,
Then was my fit just past; it came so well, methought,
To glad my heart.
Hip. I see his grace thinks on me.
Liv. There’s no talk now but of the preparation
For the great marriage.
Hip. Does he marry her, then?
Liv. With all speed, suddenly, as fast as cost
Can be laid on with many thousand hands.
This gentleman and I had once a purpose
To have honour’d the first marriage of the Duke
With an invention of his own; ’twas ready,
The pains well past, most of the charge bestow’d on’t,
Then came the death of your good mother, niece,
And turn’d the glory of it all to black:
’Tis a device would fit these times so well too,
Art’s treasury not better: if you’ll join,
It shall be done; the cost shall all be mine.
Hip. You’ve my voice first; ’twill well approve my thankfulness
For the Duke’s love and favour.
Liv. What say you, niece?
Isa. I am content to make one.
Guar. The plot’s full then;
Your pages, madam, will make shift for Cupids.
Liv. That will they, sir.
Guar. You’ll play your old part still.
Liv. What is it? good troth, I have even forgot it.
Guar. Why, Juno Pronuba, the marriage-goddess.
Liv. ’Tis right indeed.
Guar. And you shall play the Nymph,
That offers sacrifice to appease her wrath.
Isa. Sacrifice, good sir?
Liv. Must I be appeas’d then?
Guar. That’s as you list yourself, as you see cause.
Liv. Methinks ’twould shew the more state in her deity
To be incens’d.
Isa. ’Twould; but my sacrifice
Shall take a course to appease you;—or I'll fail in’t,
And teach a sinful bawd to play a goddess. [Aside, and exit.
Guar. For our parts, we’ll not be ambitious, sir:
Please you, walk in and see the project drawn,
Then take your choice.
Hip. I weigh not, so I have one.
[Exeunt. Guardiano and Hippolito.
Liv. How much ado have I to restrain fury
From breaking into curses! O, how painful ’tis
To keep great sorrow smother’d! sure, I think
’Tis harder to dissemble grief than love.
Leantio, here the weight of thy loss lies,
Which nothing but destruction can suffice. [Exit.

SCENE III.

Before the Duke’s Palace.

Hautboys. Enter the Duke and Bianca richly attired, attended by Lords, Cardinals, Ladies, and others: as they are passing in great state over the stage, enter the Cardinal meeting them.

Car. Cease, cease! religious honours done to sin
Disparage virtue’s reverence, and will pull
Heaven’s thunder upon Florence: holy ceremonies
Were made for sacred uses, not for sinful.
Are these the fruits of your repentance, brother?
Better it had been you had never sorrow’d,
Than to abuse the benefit, and return
To worse than where sin left you.
Vow’d you then never to keep strumpet more,
And are you now so swift in your desires
To knit your honours and your life fast to her?
Is not sin sure enough to wretched man,
But he must bind himself in chains to’t? worse;
Must marriage, that immaculate robe of honour,
That renders virtue glorious, fair, and fruitful
To her great master, be now made the garment
Of leprosy and foulness? Is this penitence
To sanctify hot lust? what is it otherwise
Than worship done to devils? Is this the best
Amends that sin can make after her riots?
As if a drunkard, to appease heaven’s wrath,
Should offer up his surfeit for a sacrifice:
If that be comely, then lust’s offerings are
On wedlock’s sacred altar.
Duke. Here you’re bitter
Without cause, brother; what I vow’d I keep,
As safe as you your conscience; and this needs not;
I taste more wrath in’t than I do religion,
And envy more than goodness: the path now
I tread is honest, leads to lawful love,
Which virtue in her strictness would not check:
I vow’d no more to keep a sensual woman;
’Tis done, I mean to make a lawful wife of her.
Car. He that taught you that craft,
Call him not master long, he will undo you;
Grow not too cunning for your soul, good brother:
Is it enough to use adulterous thefts,
And then take sanctuary in marriage?
I grant, so long as an offender keeps
Close in a privileg’d temple, his life’s safe;
But if he ever venture to come out,
And so be taken, then he surely dies for’t:
So now you’re safe; but when you leave this body,
Man’s only privileg’d temple upon earth,
In which the guilty soul takes sanctuary,
Then you’ll perceive what wrongs chaste vows endure
When lust usurps the bed that should be pure.
Bian. Sir, I have read you over all this while
In silence, and I find great knowledge in you
And severe learning; yet, ’mongst all your virtues
I see not charity written, which some call
The first-born of religion, and I wonder
I cannot see’t in yours: believe it, sir,
There is no virtue can be sooner miss’d,
Or later welcom’d; it begins the rest,
And sets ’em all in order:[1109] heaven and angels
Take great delight in a converted sinner;
Why should you then, a servant and professor,
Differ so much from them? If every woman
That commits evil should be therefore kept
Back in desires of goodness, how should virtue
Be known and honour’d? From a man that’s blind,
To take a burning taper ’tis no wrong,
He never misses it; but to take light
From one that sees, that’s injury and spite.
Pray, whether is religion better serv’d,
When lives that are licentious are made honest,
Than when they still run through a sinful blood?
’Tis nothing virtue’s temples to deface;
But build the ruins, there’s a work of grace!
Duke. I kiss thee for that spirit; thou’st prais’d thy wit
A modest way.—On, on, there!
[Hautboys. Exeunt all except the Cardinal.
Car. Lust is bold,
And will have vengeance speak ere’t be controll’d. [Exit.

ACT V. SCENE I.

A great hall in the Duke’s Palace.
Enter Guardiano and the Ward.
Guar. Speak, hast thou any sense of thy abuse?
Dost thou know what wrong’s done thee?
Ward. I were an ass else;
I cannot wash my face but I am feeling on’t.
Guar. Here, take this caltrop[1110] then [giving caltrop], convey it secretly
Into the place I shew’d you: look you, sir,
This is the trap-door to’t.

Ward. I know’t of old, uncle, since the last triumph;[1111] here rose up a devil with one eye, I remember, with a company of fireworks at’s tail.

Guar. Prithee, leave squibbing now: mark me, and fail not;
But when thou hear’st me give a stamp, down with’t,
The villain’s caught then.

Ward. If I miss you, hang me: I love to catch a villain, and your stamp[1112] shall go current, I warrant you. But how shall I rise up and let him down too all at one hole? that will be a horrible puzzle. You know I have a part in’t, I play Slander.

Guar. True, but never make you ready for’t.

Ward. No? my clothes are bought and all, and a foul fiend’s head, with a long, contumelious tongue i' the chaps on’t, a very fit shape for Slander i' th' out-parishes.

Guar. It shall not come so far; thou understand’st it not.
Ward. O, O!
Guar. He shall lie deep enough ere that time,
And stick first upon those.
Ward. Now I conceive you, guardianer.
Guar. Away!
List to the privy stamp, that’s all thy part.

Ward. Stamp my horns in a mortar, if I miss you, and give the powder in white wine to sick cuckolds, a very present remedy for the headach. [Exit.

Guar. If this should any way miscarry now—
As, if the fool be nimble enough, ’tis certain—
The pages, that present the swift-wing’d Cupids,
Are taught to hit him with their shafts of love,
Fitting his part, which I have cunningly poison’d:
He cannot ’scape my fury; and those ills
Will be laid all on fortune, not our wills;
That’s all the sport on’t: for who will imagine
That, at the celebration of this night,
Any mischance that haps can flow from spite? [Exit.

Flourish. Enter above[1113] Duke, Bianca, Lord Cardinal, Fabricio, other Cardinals, and Lords and Ladies in state.

Duke. Now, our fair duchess, your delight shall witness
How you’re belov’d and honour’d; all the glories
Bestow’d upon the gladness of this night
Are done for your bright sake.
Bian. I am the more
In debt, my lord, to loves and courtesies
That offer up themselves so bounteously
To do me honour’d grace, without my merit.
Duke. A goodness set in greatness; how it sparkles
Afar off, like pure diamonds set in gold!
How perfect my desires were, might I witness
But a fair noble peace ’twixt your two spirits!
The reconcilement would be more sweet to me
Than longer life to him that fears to die.—
Good sir—
Car. I profess peace, and am content.
Duke. I'll see the seal upon’t, and then ’tis firm.
Car. You shall have all you wish. [Kisses Bianca.
Duke. I've all indeed now.
Bian. But I've made surer work; this shall not blind me;
He that begins so early to reprove,
Quickly rid him, or look for little love:
Beware a brother’s envy; he’s next heir too.
Cardinal, you die this night; the plot’s laid surely;
In time of sports death may steal in securely,
Then ’tis least thought on;
For he that’s most religious, holy friend,
Does not at all hours think upon his end;
He has his times of frailty, and his thoughts
Their transportations too through flesh and blood,
For all his zeal, his learning, and his light,
As well as we, poor soul, that sin by night. [Aside.
Duke [looking at a paper]. What’s this, Fabricio?
Fab. Marry, my lord, the model
Of what’s presented.
Duke. O, we thank their loves.—
Sweet duchess, take your seat; list to the argument.
[Reads.
There is a Nymph, that haunts the woods and springs,
In love with two at once, and they with her;
Equal it runs; but, to decide these things,
The cause to mighty Juno they refer,
She being the marriage-goddess: the two lovers
They offer sighs, the Nymph a sacrifice,
All to please Juno, who by signs discovers
How the event shall be; so that strife dies:
Then springs a second; for the man refus’d
Grows discontent, and, out of love abus’d,
He raises Slander up, like a black fiend,
To disgrace th' other, which pays him i' th' end.
Bian. In troth, my lord, a pretty, pleasing argument,
And fits th' occasion well: envy and slander
Are things soon rais’d against two faithful lovers;
But comfort is, they’re not long unrewarded. [Music.
Duke. This music shews they’re upon entrance now.
Bian. Then enter all my wishes. [Aside.

Enter Hymen in a yellow robe, Ganymede in a blue robe powdered with stars, and Hebe in a white robe with golden stars, each bearing a covered cup: they dance a short dance, and then make obeisance to the Duke, &c.

Hym. To thee, fair bride, Hymen offers up
Of nuptial joys this the celestial cup;
Taste it, and thou shalt ever find
Love in thy bed, peace in thy mind.
Bian. We’ll taste you, sure; ’twere pity to disgrace
So pretty a beginning.
[Takes cup from Hymen, and drinks.
Duke. ’Twas spoke nobly.
Gan. Two cups of nectar have we begg’d from Jove;
Hebe, give that to innocence, I this to love:
Take heed of stumbling more, look to your way;
Remember still the Via Lactea.

[Ganymede and Hebe respectively offer their cups to the Duke and Cardinal, who drink.

Hebe. Well, Ganymede, you’ve more faults, though not so known;
I spill’d one cup, but you’ve filch’d many a one.
Hym. No more; forbear for Hymen’s sake:
In love we met, and so let’s part.[1114]
[Exeunt. Hymen, Ganymede, and Hebe.
Duke. But, soft; here’s no such persons in the argument
As these three, Hymen, Hebe, Ganymede;
The actors that this model here discovers
Are only four,—Juno, a Nymph, two lovers.
Bian. This is some antimasque[1115] belike, my lord,
To entertain time.—Now my peace is perfect,
Let sports come on apace. [Aside.]—Now is their time, my lord: [Music.
Hark you! you hear from ’em.
Duke. The Nymph indeed!

Enter two Nymphs, bearing tapers lighted; then Isabella as a Nymph, dressed with flowers and garlands, carrying a censer with fire in it: they set the censer and tapers on Juno’s altar with much reverence, singing this ditty in parts: