# The Tragedy of the Dutchesse of Malfy/Act V, scene v

SCENA. V.
Cardinall (with a Booke) Bosola, Pescara, Malateste, Rodorigo, Ferdinand, Delio, Servant with Antonio's body.
Card.
I am puzzell'd in a question about hell: He saies, in hell, there's one materiall fire, And yet it shall not burne all men alike. Lay him by: How tedious is a guilty conscience? When I looke into the Fish-ponds, in my Garden, Me thinkes I see a thing, arm'd with a Rake That seemes to strike at me: Now? art thou come? thou look'st ghastly: There sits in thy face, some great determination, Mix'd with some feare.
Bos.
Thus it lightens into Action: I am come to kill thee.
Card.
Hah? helpe: our Guard.
Bos.
Thou art deceiv'd: They are out of thy howling.
Card.
Hold; and I will faithfully devide Revenewes with thee.
Bos.
Thy prayers, and proffers Are both unseasonable.
Card.
Raise the Watch: we are betraid.
Bos.
I have confinde your flight: I'll suffer your retreyt to Julias Chamber, But no further.
Card.
Helpe: we are betraid.
Mal.
Listen.
Card.
My Dukedom, for rescew.
Rod.
Fye upon his counterfeyting.
Mal.
Why, 'tis not the Cardinall.
Rod.
Yes, yes, 'tis he: But I'll see him hang'd, ere I'll goe downe to him.
Card.
Here's a plot upon me, I am assaulted: I am lost, Unlesse some rescew.
Gris.
He doth this pretty well: But it will not serve; to laugh me out of mine honour.
Card.
The sword's at my throat:
Rod.
You would not bawle so lowd then.
Mal.
Come, come: lets's goe to bed: he told us thus much aforehand.
Pesc.
He wish'd you should not come at him: but beleev't, The accent of the voyce sounds not in jest. I'll downe to him, howsoever, and with engines, Force ope the doores.
Rod.
Let's follow him aloofe, And note how the Cardinall will laugh at him.
Bos.
There's for you first: 'cause you shall not unbarracade the doore To let in rescew. He kills the Servant.
Card.
What cause hast thou to pursue my life?
Bos.
Looke there:
Card.
Antonio?
Bos.
Slaine by my hand unwittingly: Pray, and be sudden: when thou kill'dst thy sister, Thou tookst from Justice her most equall ballance, And left her naught but her sword.
Card.
O mercy.
Bos.
Now it seemes thy Greatnes was onely outward: For thou fall'st faster of thy selfe, then calamitie Can drive thee: I'll not wast longer time: There.
Card.
Thou hast hurt me:
Bos.
Againe:
Card.
Shall I die like a Levoret Without any resistance? helpe, helpe, helpe: I am slaine.
Ferd.
Th'allarum? give me a fresh horse: Rally the vaunt-guard: or the day is lost: Yeeld, yeeld: I give you the honour of Armes,
Shake my Sword over you, will you yeilde?
Card.
Helpe me, I am your brother.
Ferd.
The divell? My brother fight upon the adverse party? He wounds the Cardinall, and (in the scuffle) gives Bosola his death wound. There flies your ransome.
Card.
Oh Justice: I suffer now, for what hath former bin: "Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.
Ferd.
Now you're brave fellowes: Cæsars Fortune was harder than Pompeys: Cæsar died in the armes of prosperity, Pompey at the feete of disgrace: you both died in the field, The paine's nothing: paine many times, is taken away, with The apprehension of greater, (as the tooth-ache with the sight Of a Barbor, that comes to pull it out) there's Philosophy for you.
Bos.
Now my revenge is perfect: sinke (thou maine cause Of my undoing) the last part of my life, Hath done me best service. He kills Ferdinand.
Ferd.
Give me some wet hay, I am broken winded. I do account this world but a dog-kennell: I will vault credit, and affect high pleasures, Beyond death.
Bos.
He seemes to come to himselfe, now he's so neere the bottom.
Ferd.
My sister, O my sister! there's the cause on't. Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, Like diamonds, we are cut with our own dust.
Card.
Thou hast thy payment too.
Bos.
Yes, I hold my weary soule, in my teeth, 'Tis ready to part from me: I do glory That thou, which stood'st like a huge Piramid Begun upon a large, and ample base, Shalt end in a little point a kind of nothing.
Pes.
How now (my Lord?)
Mal.
Oh sad disastre.
Rod.
How comes this?
Bos.
Revenge, for the Duchesse of Malfy, murdered By th' Aragonian brethren: for Antonio,
Slain by this hand: for lustfull Julia, Poyson'd by this man: and lastly, for my selfe, (That was an Actor in the maine of all, Much 'gainst mine owne good nature, yet i'th'end Neglected.)
Pes.
How now (my Lord?)
Card.
Looke to my brother: He gave us these large wounds, as we were strugling Here i'th' rushes: And now, I pray, let me Be layd by, and never thought of.
Pes.
How fatally (it seemes) he did withstand, His owne rescew?
Mal.
Thou wretched thing of blood, How came Antonio by his death?
Bos.
In a mist: I know not how, Such a mistake, as I have often seene In a play: Oh, I am gone, We are onely like dead wals, or vaulted graves, That ruin'd, yeildes no eccho: Fare you well, It may be paine: but no harme to me to die, In so good a quarrell. Oh this gloomy world, In what a shadow, or deepe pit of darknesse, Doth (womanish, and fearefull mankind live? Let worthy mindes, nere stagger in distrust To suffer death, or shame for what is just, Mine is an other voyage.
Pes.
The noble Delio, as I came to th' Pallace, Told me of Antonio's being here, and shew'd me A pritty gentleman his sonne and heire.
Mal.
Oh Sir, you come to late.
Del.
I heard so, and Was arm'd for't, ere I came: Let us make noble use Of this great ruine; and joyne all our force To establish this yong hopefull Gentleman In's mother's right. These wretched eminent things Leave no more fame behind 'em, than should one
Fall in a frost, and leave his print in snow,
As soone as the sun shines,it ever melts, Both forme, and matter: I have ever thought Nature doth nothing so great, for great men, As when she's pleas'd, to make them Lords of truth: "Integrity of life, is fames best friend, Which noblely (beyond Death) shall crowne the end.Exeunt.
FINIS
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