The Duchess of Malfi

ANTONIO.  Indeed, I must persuade one.
DUCHESS.                                Very good:
I hope in time 'twill grow into a custom,
That noblemen shall come with cap and knee
To purchase a night's lodging of their wives.
ANTONIO.  I must lie here.
DUCHESS.                    Must!  You are a lord of mis-rule.
ANTONIO.  Indeed, my rule is only in the night.
DUCHESS.  I 'll stop your mouth.
[Kisses him.]
ANTONIO.  Nay, that 's but one; Venus had two soft doves
To draw her chariot; I must have another. —
[She kisses him again.]
When wilt thou marry, Cariola?
CARIOLA.                        Never, my lord.
ANTONIO.  O, fie upon this single life! forgo it.
We read how Daphne, for her peevish [flight,][80 - Qq. read SLIGHT.]
Became a fruitless bay-tree; Syrinx turn'd
To the pale empty reed; Anaxarete
Was frozen into marble:  whereas those
Which married, or prov'd kind unto their friends,
Were by a gracious influence transhap'd
Into the olive, pomegranate, mulberry,
Became flowers, precious stones, or eminent stars.
CARIOLA.  This is a vain poetry:  but I pray you, tell me,
If there were propos'd me, wisdom, riches, and beauty,
In three several young men, which should I choose?
ANTONIO.  'Tis a hard question.  This was Paris' case,
And he was blind in 't, and there was a great cause;
For how was 't possible he could judge right,
Having three amorous goddesses in view,
And they stark naked?  'Twas a motion
Were able to benight the apprehension
Of the severest counsellor of Europe.
Now I look on both your faces so well form'd,
It puts me in mind of a question I would ask.
CARIOLA.  What is 't?
ANTONIO.               I do wonder why hard-favour'd ladies,
For the most part, keep worse-favour'd waiting-women
To attend them, and cannot endure fair ones.
DUCHESS.  O, that 's soon answer'd.
Did you ever in your life know an ill painter
Desire to have his dwelling next door to the shop
Of an excellent picture-maker?  'Twould disgrace
His face-making, and undo him.  I prithee,
When were we so merry? – My hair tangles.
ANTONIO.  Pray thee, Cariola, let 's steal forth the room,
And let her talk to herself:  I have divers times
Serv'd her the like, when she hath chaf'd extremely.
I love to see her angry.  Softly, Cariola.

Exeunt [ANTONIO and CARIOLA.]

DUCHESS.  Doth not the colour of my hair 'gin to change?
When I wax gray, I shall have all the court
Powder their hair with arras,[81 - Powder of orris-root.] to be like me.
You have cause to love me; I ent'red you into my heart

[Enter FERDINAND unseen]

Before you would vouchsafe to call for the keys.
We shall one day have my brothers take you napping.
Methinks his presence, being now in court,
Should make you keep your own bed; but you 'll say
Love mix'd with fear is sweetest.  I 'll assure you,
You shall get no more children till my brothers
Consent to be your gossips.  Have you lost your tongue?
'Tis welcome:
For know, whether I am doom'd to live or die,
I can do both like a prince.
FERDINAND.                    Die, then, quickly!
Giving her a poniard.
Virtue, where art thou hid?  What hideous thing
Is it that doth eclipse thee?
DUCHESS.                       Pray, sir, hear me.
FERDINAND.  Or is it true thou art but a bare name,
And no essential thing?
DUCHESS.                 Sir —
FERDINAND.                        Do not speak.
DUCHESS.  No, sir:
I will plant my soul in mine ears, to hear you.
FERDINAND.  O most imperfect light of human reason,
That mak'st [us] so unhappy to foresee
What we can least prevent!  Pursue thy wishes,
And glory in them:  there 's in shame no comfort
But to be past all bounds and sense of shame.
DUCHESS.  I pray, sir, hear me:  I am married.
FERDINAND.                                      So!
DUCHESS.  Happily, not to your liking:  but for that,
Alas, your shears do come untimely now
To clip the bird's wings that 's already flown!
Will you see my husband?
FERDINAND.                Yes, if I could change
Eyes with a basilisk.
DUCHESS.               Sure, you came hither
By his confederacy.
FERDINAND.           The howling of a wolf
Is music to thee, screech-owl:  prithee, peace. —
Whate'er thou art that hast enjoy'd my sister,
For I am sure thou hear'st me, for thine own sake