The Duchess of Malfi

Again.  Why didst thou not pity her?  What
An excellent honest man mightst thou have been,
If thou hadst borne her to some sanctuary!
Or, bold in a good cause, oppos'd thyself,
With thy advanced sword above thy head,
Between her innocence and my revenge!
I bade thee, when I was distracted of my wits,
Go kill my dearest friend, and thou hast done 't.
For let me but examine well the cause:
What was the meanness of her match to me?
Only I must confess I had a hope,
Had she continu'd widow, to have gain'd
An infinite mass of treasure by her death:
And that was the main cause, – her marriage,
That drew a stream of gall quite through my heart.
For thee, as we observe in tragedies
That a good actor many times is curs'd
For playing a villain's part, I hate thee for 't,
And, for my sake, say, thou hast done much ill well.
BOSOLA.  Let me quicken your memory, for I perceive
You are falling into ingratitude:  I challenge
The reward due to my service.
FERDINAND.                     I 'll tell thee
What I 'll give thee.
BOSOLA.                Do.
FERDINAND.                  I 'll give thee a pardon
For this murder.
BOSOLA.           Ha!
FERDINAND.             Yes, and 'tis
The largest bounty I can study to do thee.
By what authority didst thou execute
This bloody sentence?
BOSOLA.                By yours.
FERDINAND.  Mine! was I her judge?
Did any ceremonial form of law
Doom her to not-being?  Did a complete jury
Deliver her conviction up i' the court?
Where shalt thou find this judgment register'd,
Unless in hell?  See, like a bloody fool,
Thou 'st forfeited thy life, and thou shalt die for 't.
BOSOLA.  The office of justice is perverted quite
When one thief hangs another.  Who shall dare
To reveal this?
FERDINAND.       O, I 'll tell thee;
The wolf shall find her grave, and scrape it up,
Not to devour the corpse, but to discover
The horrid murder.
BOSOLA.             You, not I, shall quake for 't.
FERDINAND.  Leave me.
BOSOLA.                I will first receive my pension.
FERDINAND.  You are a villain.
BOSOLA.                         When your ingratitude
Is judge, I am so.
FERDINAND.          O horror,
That not the fear of him which binds the devils
Can prescribe man obedience! —
Never look upon me more.
BOSOLA.                   Why, fare thee well.
Your brother and yourself are worthy men!
You have a pair of hearts are hollow graves,
Rotten, and rotting others; and your vengeance,
Like two chain'd-bullets, still goes arm in arm:
You may be brothers; for treason, like the plague,
Doth take much in a blood.  I stand like one
That long hath ta'en a sweet and golden dream:
I am angry with myself, now that I wake.
FERDINAND.  Get thee into some unknown part o' the world,
That I may never see thee.
BOSOLA.                     Let me know
Wherefore I should be thus neglected.  Sir,
I serv'd your tyranny, and rather strove
To satisfy yourself than all the world:
And though I loath'd the evil, yet I lov'd
You that did counsel it; and rather sought
To appear a true servant than an honest man.
FERDINAND.  I 'll go hunt the badger by owl-light:
'Tis a deed of darkness.

Exit.

BOSOLA.  He 's much distracted.  Off, my painted honour!
While with vain hopes our faculties we tire,
We seem to sweat in ice and freeze in fire.
What would I do, were this to do again?
I would not change my peace of conscience
For all the wealth of Europe. – She stirs; here 's life: —
Return, fair soul, from darkness, and lead mine
Out of this sensible hell: – she 's warm, she breathes: —
Upon thy pale lips I will melt my heart,
To store them with fresh colour. – Who 's there?
Some cordial drink! – Alas!  I dare not call:
So pity would destroy pity. – Her eye opes,
And heaven in it seems to ope, that late was shut,
To take me up to mercy.
DUCHESS.  Antonio!
BOSOLA.             Yes, madam, he is living;
The dead bodies you saw were but feign'd statues.
He 's reconcil'd to your brothers; the Pope hath wrought
The atonement.
DUCHESS.        Mercy!