The Duchess of Malfi

Follow the wars:  I 'll be your maintenance.
BOSOLA.  And I your loyal servant:  but I cannot
Leave my calling.
JULIA.             Not leave an ungrateful
General for the love of a sweet lady!
You are like some cannot sleep in feather-beds,
But must have blocks for their pillows.
BOSOLA.                                  Will you do this?
JULIA.  Cunningly.
BOSOLA.  To-morrow I 'll expect th' intelligence.
JULIA.  To-morrow! get you into my cabinet;
You shall have it with you.  Do not delay me,
No more than I do you:  I am like one
That is condemn'd; I have my pardon promis'd,
But I would see it seal'd.  Go, get you in:
You shall see my wind my tongue about his heart
Like a skein of silk.

[Exit BOSOLA.]

[Re-enter CARDINAL]

CARDINAL.              Where are you?

[Enter Servants.]

SERVANTS.                              Here.
CARDINAL.  Let none, upon your lives, have conference
With the Prince Ferdinand, unless I know it. —
[Aside] In this distraction he may reveal
The murder.

[Exeunt Servants.]

Yond 's my lingering consumption:
I am weary of her, and by any means
Would be quit of.
JULIA.             How now, my lord! what ails you?
CARDINAL.  Nothing.
JULIA.               O, you are much alter'd:
Come, I must be your secretary, and remove
This lead from off your bosom:  what 's the matter?
CARDINAL.  I may not tell you.
JULIA.  Are you so far in love with sorrow
You cannot part with part of it?  Or think you
I cannot love your grace when you are sad
As well as merry?  Or do you suspect
I, that have been a secret to your heart
These many winters, cannot be the same
Unto your tongue?
CARDINAL.          Satisfy thy longing, —
The only way to make thee keep my counsel
Is, not to tell thee.
JULIA.                 Tell your echo this,
Or flatterers, that like echoes still report
What they hear though most imperfect, and not me;
For if that you be true unto yourself,
I 'll know.
CARDINAL.     Will you rack me?
JULIA.                           No, judgment shall
Draw it from you:  it is an equal fault,
To tell one's secrets unto all or none.
CARDINAL.  The first argues folly.
JULIA.  But the last tyranny.
CARDINAL.  Very well:  why, imagine I have committed
Some secret deed which I desire the world
May never hear of.
JULIA.              Therefore may not I know it?
You have conceal'd for me as great a sin
As adultery.  Sir, never was occasion
For perfect trial of my constancy
Till now:  sir, I beseech you —
CARDINAL.                           You 'll repent it.
JULIA.  Never.
CARDINAL.  It hurries thee to ruin:  I 'll not tell thee.
Be well advis'd, and think what danger 'tis
To receive a prince's secrets.  They that do,
Had need have their breasts hoop'd with adamant
To contain them.  I pray thee, yet be satisfi'd;
Examine thine own frailty; 'tis more easy
To tie knots than unloose them.  'Tis a secret
That, like a ling'ring poison, may chance lie
Spread in thy veins, and kill thee seven year hence.
JULIA.  Now you dally with me.
CARDINAL.                       No more; thou shalt know it.
By my appointment the great Duchess of Malfi
And two of her young children, four nights since,
Were strangl'd.
JULIA.           O heaven! sir, what have you done!
CARDINAL.  How now?  How settles this?  Think you your bosom
Will be a grave dark and obscure enough
For such a secret?
JULIA.              You have undone yourself, sir.
CARDINAL.  Why?
JULIA.           It lies not in me to conceal it.
CARDINAL.                                          No?
Come, I will swear you to 't upon this book.
JULIA.  Most religiously.
CARDINAL.                  Kiss it.
[She kisses the book.]