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

SCENA IIII.
Cardinall, Pescara, Malateste, Rodorigo, Grisolan, Bosola, Ferdinand, Antonio, Servant.
Card.
You shall not watch to night by the sicke Prince, His grace is very well recover'd.
Mal.
Good my Lord suffer us.
Card. Oh, by no meanes: The noyse, and change of object in his eye, Doth more distract him: I pray, all to bed, And though you heare him in his violent fit, Do not rise, I intreate you.
Pesc.
So sir, we shall not,
Card.
Nay, I must have you promise Upon your honors, for I was enjoin'd to't By himselfe; and he seem'd to urge it sencibly.
Pesc.
Let our honors bind this trifle.
Card.
Nor any of your followers.
Mal.
Neither.
Card.
It may be to make trial of your promise When he's a sleep, my selfe will rise, and faigne Some of his mad trickes, and crie out for helpe, And faigne my selfe in danger.
Mal.
If your throate were cutting, I'll'd not come at you, now I have protested against it.
Card.
Why, I thanke you.
Gris.
'Twas a foul storme to night.
Rod. The Lord Ferdinand's chamber, shooke like an Ozier.
Mal.
'Twas nothing but pure kindnesse in the Divell, To rocke his owne child. Exeunt.
Card.
The reason why I would not suffer these
About my brother, is, because at midnight I may with better privacy convey Julia's body to her owne Lodging. O, my Conscience! I would pray now: but the Divell takes away my heart For having any confidence in Praier. About this houre, I appointed Bosola To fetch the body: when he hath serv'd my turne, He dies.Exit.
Bos.
Hah? 'twas the Cardinalls voyce: I heard him name, Bosola, and my death: listen, I heare ones footing.
Ferd.
Strangling is a very quiein death.
Bos.
Nay then I see, I must stand upon my Guard.
Ferd.
What say' to that? whisper, softly: doe you agree to't? So it must be done i'th' darke: the Cardinall Would not for a thousand pounds, the Doctor should see it. Exit.
Bos.
My death is plotted; here's the consequence of murther. "We value not desert, nor Christian breath, When we know blacke deedes, must be cur'de with death.
Serv.
Here stay Sir, and be confident, I pray: I'll fetch you a dark Lanthorne. Exit.
Ant.
Could I take him at his prayers, There were hope of pardon.
Bos.
Fall right my sword: I'll not give thee so much leysure, as to pray.
Ant.
Oh, I am gone: Thou hast ended a long suit, In a mynut.
Bos.
What art thou?
Ant.
A most wretched thing, That onely have the benefit in death, To appeare my selfe.
Serv.
Where are you Sir?
Ant.
Very neere my home: Bosola?
Serv.
Oh misfortune.
Bos.
Smother thy pitty, thou art dead else: Antonio? The man I would have sav'de 'bove mine owne life? We are meerely the Starres tennys-balls (strooke, and banded Which way please them) O good Antonio.
I'll whisper one thing in thy dying eare, Shall make thy heart breake quickly: Thy faire Dutchesse And two sweet Children.
Ant.
Their very names Kindle a little life in me.
Bos.
Are murderd.
Ant.
Some men have wish'd to die. At the hearing of sad tydings; I am glad That I shall do't in sadnes: I would not now Wish my wounds balm'de, nor heal'd: for I have no use To put my life to: In all our Quest of Greatnes; (Like wanton Boyes, whose pastime is their care) We follow after bubbles, blowne in th'ayre. Pleasure of life, what is't? onely the good houres Of an Ague: meerely a preparative to rest, To endure vexation: I doe not aske The processe of my death: onely commend me To Delio.
Bos.
Breake heart:
Ant.
And let my Sonne, flie the Courts of Princes.
Bos.
Thou seem'st to have lov'd Antonio?
Serv.
I brought him hether, To have reconcil'd him to the Cardinall.
Bos.
I doe not aske thee that: Take him up, if thou tender thy own life, And beare him, where the Lady Julia Was wont to lodge: Oh, my fate moves swift. I have this Cardinall, in the forge already, Now I'll bring him to th'hammer: (O direful misprision:) I will not Imitate things glorious, No more than base: I'll be mine owne example. On, on: and looke thou represent, for silence, The thing thou bear'st. Exeunt.
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