The Duchess of Malfi

Let me not know thee.  I came hither prepar'd
To work thy discovery; yet am now persuaded
It would beget such violent effects
As would damn us both.  I would not for ten millions
I had beheld thee:  therefore use all means
I never may have knowledge of thy name;
Enjoy thy lust still, and a wretched life,
On that condition. – And for thee, vile woman,
If thou do wish thy lecher may grow old
In thy embracements, I would have thee build
Such a room for him as our anchorites
To holier use inhabit.  Let not the sun
Shine on him till he 's dead; let dogs and monkeys
Only converse with him, and such dumb things
To whom nature denies use to sound his name;
Do not keep a paraquito, lest she learn it;
If thou do love him, cut out thine own tongue,
Lest it bewray him.
DUCHESS.             Why might not I marry?
I have not gone about in this to create
Any new world or custom.
FERDINAND.                Thou art undone;
And thou hast ta'en that massy sheet of lead
That hid thy husband's bones, and folded it
About my heart.
DUCHESS.         Mine bleeds for 't.
FERDINAND.                            Thine! thy heart!
What should I name 't unless a hollow bullet
Fill'd with unquenchable wild-fire?
DUCHESS.                             You are in this
Too strict; and were you not my princely brother,
I would say, too wilful:  my reputation
Is safe.
FERDINAND.  Dost thou know what reputation is?
I 'll tell thee, – to small purpose, since the instruction
Comes now too late.
Upon a time Reputation, Love, and Death,
Would travel o'er the world; and it was concluded
That they should part, and take three several ways.
Death told them, they should find him in great battles,
Or cities plagu'd with plagues:  Love gives them counsel
To inquire for him 'mongst unambitious shepherds,
Where dowries were not talk'd of, and sometimes
'Mongst quiet kindred that had nothing left
By their dead parents:  'Stay,' quoth Reputation,
'Do not forsake me; for it is my nature,
If once I part from any man I meet,
I am never found again.' And so for you:
You have shook hands with Reputation,
And made him invisible.  So, fare you well:
I will never see you more.
DUCHESS.                    Why should only I,
Of all the other princes of the world,
Be cas'd up, like a holy relic?  I have youth
And a little beauty.
FERDINAND.            So you have some virgins
That are witches.  I will never see thee more.

Exit.

Re-enter ANTONIO with a pistol, [and CARIOLA]

DUCHESS.  You saw this apparition?
ANTONIO.                            Yes:  we are
Betray'd.  How came he hither?  I should turn
This to thee, for that.
CARIOLA.                 Pray, sir, do; and when
That you have cleft my heart, you shall read there
Mine innocence.
DUCHESS.         That gallery gave him entrance.
ANTONIO.  I would this terrible thing would come again,
That, standing on my guard, I might relate
My warrantable love. —
(She shows the poniard.)
Ha! what means this?
DUCHESS.  He left this with me.
ANTONIO.                         And it seems did wish
You would use it on yourself.
DUCHESS.                       His action seem'd
To intend so much.
ANTONIO.            This hath a handle to 't,
As well as a point:  turn it towards him, and
So fasten the keen edge in his rank gall.
[Knocking within.]
How now! who knocks?  More earthquakes?
DUCHESS.                                 I stand
As if a mine beneath my feet were ready
To be blown up.
CARIOLA.         'Tis Bosola.
DUCHESS.                       Away!
O misery! methinks unjust actions
Should wear these masks and curtains, and not we.
You must instantly part hence:  I have fashion'd it already.

Exit ANTONIO.

Enter BOSOLA

BOSOLA.  The duke your brother is ta'en up in a whirlwind;
Hath took horse, and 's rid post to Rome.